#none of my friends have gotten to the plot twist in like chapter 5 or whatever the college friend reunion one is

[disastergay]

anyway. one of these days, royce's updates are going to kill me

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

[fun-with-colors]

Persona 5 Royal and “Poe’s Masquerade”

I recently (read: a few minutes ago) saw a post about how Beneath the Mask is a brilliant and tragic character study of Joker, and I felt compelled to talk about some of the awesome references in Persona 5 Royal (not sure if they’re all in the vanilla game, never played it.)

So, in Beneath the Mask, there’s the line “I’m a shapeshifter, at Poe’s Masquerade,” right? Which is a reference to Edgar Allan Poe’s The Masque of the Red Death. Seems like a pretty cut-and-dry thing, it ties into the theme of there not being anything beneath the mask, as was the case in Poe’s Masque. Well, I am here to tell you that that particular reference is anything but simple. It’s brilliant. 

Fair warning: this is gonna be a long post.

First off, some context on The Masque of the Red Death. It’s a short story where, basically, there’s this plague going on. It’s called the Red Death, it makes you sweat blood and die in less than an hour. Terribly contagious, the Red Death. So this rich guy gathers up all of his friends and allies to hole up in his abbey, and locks the gates behind them. A few months in, they decide to throw a rocking masquerade party. 

The party is structured as such: 

There are 7 rooms in order, each color-coded. Blue, then purple, then green, then orange, and then violet. The last room is black, and lit up by red lights. There’s a big imposing clock in the last room, and whenever it chimes the hour everyone stops partying until the clock is done, and then resumes. 

Everything’s going great while people are dying outside until midnight, when this new guy shows up in a gaudy red costume that looks like a corpse killed by the red death. The host chases this guy down with a dagger. They go through all the rooms, and once they reach the last room the host finally looks the mysterious stranger in the face, and instantly dies. The guests panic and remove the mask to see who it was, only to find that there was nothing there. The guests then all also die to the Red Death. 

Grim, right? Well, it also has a lot of striking similarities to Shido’s palace.

The basic premise of some rich asshole trying to save only his friends from the plague on the land, only this time the plague is one that he himself has orchestrated: the mental shutdowns. Those on his ship are safe from being permanently cancelled, while those who aren’t (like the Shujin principal) are not. 

The letters of introduction parallel the 7 rooms, since all of that preparation is in the eventual goal of unlocking the final room.

The guests on the ship are all wearing masks that look a heck of a lot like masquerade masks. 

The intruder, ie: the thieves. 

 as a last-ditch effort to kill the thieves, Shido takes a pill that will temporarily kill him, mirroring the moment when the host dies in The Masque of the Red Death. 

But wait! We’re not done!

That is just the first layer of references

This is why I said that it was gonna get super long. Strap in folks, because those references aren’t even an original choice that the game made. They’re INHERITED references. Also I have a lot to say, and am bad at being succinct. Well, they say that if you can’t be concise, you can at least be interesting, and I hope that I’ve managed that. 

Some more context:

Akechi is based off of the famous Japanese detective Akechi Kogoro. The author of the Akechi Kogoro stories is a man by the pen name of Edogawa Ranpo. If that name sounds familiar, it should. It is, as wikipedia puts it, “A rendering of [Edgar Allan] Poe’s name.” 

There is one Akechi Kogoro story, called Gold Mask (Or The Gold Mask, or The Golden Mask), that is especially relevant here. In it, Akechi goes up against the mysterious Gold Mask, who turns out to be none other than Arsene Lupin. 

It should not be surprising how many similarities there are, but I am somehow surprised nonetheless. 

These are some insane connections, y’all. I’m basically just gonna retell the events of the story because it’s mostly relevant anyways. It’s not even all about the red death thing. Also I just really like this section of the story. This is gonna get rambly, but bear with me here. 

Ok so first plot twist: this book also references The Masque of the Red Death. Big time. Like, there is a chapter titled “The Masque of the Red Death.”

The setting: a masquerade ball put on by the French Ambassador (The Count de Rouzieres). The ball takes place in seven chambers, in the same color order as in the original story. This time, however, they are set up so that one can only see one room at a time. Do note that the final room is described as making things look as though they are “somehow not of this world.”

The inevitable twist

Guess who shows up unannounced at the moment the clock strikes midnight? Ding ding ding! That’s right, it’s the Gold Mask. 

(The next chapter is called “The Gold Death”)

The investigator who had been Akechi’s sidekick (more on that later) chases after the Gold Mask, along with the Count and one other dude. 

I’m just gonna quote the book’s description of the third man. 

“It was impossible to identify the man on account of his eccentric costume. [...] He wore a form-fitting black shirt and trousers, black shoes, black socks, a black cloth on his head, the ends of which rose sharply into two long horns, and, of course a face mask.”

...Yeah. I was way more surprised to find out that that design is straight out of the source material than to find out who that mysterious third man was. (more on why akechi was disguised in a bit)

The Count is the first into the final room with the Gold Mask. No sooner does he enter than the other two men hear a gunshot. They run in, fearing the worst. 

Turns out it’s the Gold Mask who’s been shot by the Count. They pull off the mask and discover... the Count’s interpreter. One of the investigators declares that the interpreter must be the gold mask, and this all can be called off. The guy’s dying, everything’s fine. 

Suddenly, the man with the black mask starts laughing. They demand he removes his mask, he does so and reveals himself as Akechi Kogoro. Akechi insists that this man cannot be the Gold Mask, because Arsene Lupin is the gold mask.

Everyone else thinks he’s ridiculous, until he gets the dying interpreter to confess that yes, he was working for Arsene Lupin.

Now. The part that makes this all really funny is that as the interpreter is dying, he points out to Akechi who Arsene Lupin is (since Lupin has so many disguises as to not fundamentally have a true identity). The interpreter points to (dun dun duhDUH) The Count of Rouzieres, the French Ambassador to Japan. 

Obviously the police commissioner is finding that hard to believe, but when Akechi produces an envelope that he claims is evidence, he orders that the rest of the investigators and guests leave the room, so that it’s only him, the POV character, Akechi, and the Count. 

The letter is apparently from another well-known detective familiar with Arsene Lupin, full of evidence that proves that the Count of Rouzieres is actually Arsene Lupin. Incriminating stuff, blah blah blah. 

Arsene admits to being, well, arsene, and then proceeds to have a superficially amicable conversation with Akechi. He then pulls his gun out of nowhere and threatens to shoot akechi. Suddenly, the detective who supplied Akechi with the note (his name is Weber) jumps out of the clock mechanism behind Arsene and confiscates his gun. Arsene Lupin is about to be arrested, with no way out. One of the investigators pulls out his own gun on Arsene, and both Akechi and the police commissioner are very experienced in making arrests. Even beyond that, there’s an entire crowd of investigators waiting outside the only door. 

We cut to the aforementioned crowd of investigators, who have just noticed that the voices from inside the room have gotten very quiet. After knocking and hearing only silence, they decide to open the door.

The room is empty. 

We cut back to Arsene, who is acting very confident despite his precarious circumstances. He says that he has the power to create such a catastrophe as to make it impossible for them to arrest him, before calmly walking out of the only door in the room. 

The detectives call for the police officers outside to arrest Arsene, but... there doesn’t seem to be anyone there to do it. He locks the door to the room from the outside, and flees out of an open glass window and down a fire escape to his waiting allies. (very similar to the way Joker attempts to escape from the Casino, and VERY similar to how he ultimately escapes from the interrogation room.)

It turns out that the “black-velvet room” was actually a cleverly disguised elevator, with the mechanism in the clock. Arsene used the elevator to separate the detectives from the rest of the investigators, and to make his escape for real. It is SHOCKING to me that of all the things in persona 5, the interrogation room escape is ENTIRELY true to the source material. It’s wild. 

Anyways, I’ll stop there. I’ll probably make another post with all of the miscellaneous connections between the Gold Mask and Persona 5, since there are a lot. I’ve had this topic sitting in my brain for a while. 

Edit: I forgot to get to why Akechi was disguised. Well, it turns out that’s another connection: Akechi had been presumed dead. Everybody thought he had been shot. Turns out it was just a fake version of himself, a trick taken from Sherlock Holmes. (and one that shows up in Persona 5 Royal). He was taking advantage of the fact that everyone thought he was dead to get more info without being suspected. 

[johnandrasjaqobis]

1, 19,22,25 for the writers meme

1: Tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it? [vague gestures at my mess of google docs] there are. so many. That Fallout 4 fic is probably my biggest as far as fics go. Definitely the longest thing I’ve ever written by A Lot and there is still. So much to go. As the series description says it is following Carly’s game plot, but (at least in part 1) it isn’t from her POV, so we get to see the whole mess from Deacon’s perspective. Including his accidentally forming Attachments, entirely against his will. And listen, listen, I adore this fic. It’s definitely some of my best writing, from the actual technical standpoint as well as the character arcs and the fleshing out of the setting that Bethesda was so often very lazy with. I love it so much. I have so many plans for it. I need to actually get back to writing chapter 21.

There is also Spacecapades, my original baby. The worldbuilding I proudly hold aloft and pretend I know what I’m doing with it. There is a plot to Spacecapades, 5 books worth because it started as 1 and then Donny got kidnapped so it became 3 and then I realized I could not do an entire war with that so now it’s 5. And it’s my baby. Any OC I have ever created (and most of Kayla’s and smatterings of other friends’) are somewhere in the sandbox that the Aradin system has become, and I am also very proud of character arcs through the plot and some of the twists and I have practically none of it actually written out. But I love it.

19: Is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?) catch me ctrl+f for the word ‘actually,’ I have gotten so much better about it but hoo boy that was a bad habit for a while. Found Family is my jam, along with like. a good number of himbos. I know I’ve got some actual repeated...patterns? Artist signatures? and of course now I can’t pinpoint specific ones. I’m sure I’ll come up with something like, an hour after I finish this fjdksl

22: Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them? my old fics are my bedtime stories very frequently bc yes hello I am a good writer and like 75% of my motivation for writing a ton of what I do is because I want to read it. It’s about like...I think 2012 and earlier stuff has the tendency to make me cringe a little bit, but even then I appreciate it for what it is and how much I’ve improved since, so. I love my old stuff. Even the super cliche ones that had summaries ending in a question.

25: What part of writing is the most fun? Dialogue, babey. I love dialogue. I love getting specific character voices down and the back-and-forth banter, I thrive with dialogue.

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ upd8 2020-01-17

Alright, morningblogging yesterday’s 2020-01-17 upd8 to Homestuck^2 let’s go!  Spoiler-free again.  I kinda don’t want even the next chapter names image-spoiled above the cut anymore so I’m going to have to figure out WHAT to put above the cut in these liveblog posts for visual reinforcement... a unique silly icon?  Going back once I’m done with the upd8 and posting something non-spoilery but weird-looking out of context?

Eh, can’t be assed.  Just know that after this I’m going to pony up for the Patreon commentary and skim it for anything plot-useful to y’all (in a separate post).  Let’s get started.

Okay, what’s next:  Any bonuses?  Oh, none!  Phew.  Unless those are coming faster too and just staggered differently, which would mean I gotta overcome my irrational pre-Homestuck-reading anxiety even MORE often.  :T

No Homestuck you don’t GET to ask how my-- ah, right.  :P

(FYI, HS^2 has been good to my emotions so far, quite a balm for the epilogues, so once I START reading I’m usually fine; but after being hurt so badly how could I possibly convince my lizard brain to trust it until it’s right in front of me?  Seriously, just hearing that the upd8 has landed messes me up a bit until I come fix it by reading w/ y’all here.)

Okay, so whose feelings?  As much as I’ve been waiting for Jade, I hope this isn’t about Jade.

> ==>

Ah fuck, we’re finally with the Pursuit Crew.  Bracing myself.  That means we get to see probably sleeping Jade ( :C ), full-swing DaveKat (approving nod), the first canon onscreen look at masculine-mode Roxy (<3), a probably pretty pissed off Kanaya (possibly either the feelings target, the one Saying How Are Your Feelings, or both), and uh... did they drag Callie along?  Or leave her back there with her meta freakout?  Probably left her back there, but... hm.

Let me turn up the brightness on this screen to sear these next pages into my retinas.  (Also, it feels odd to still be using a four-person “==>” for these, although if Jade is still asleep the numbers might fit on both ends... :c )

> ==>

I don’t think Dad is in the spacefaring business, so this is probably one of Jake’s shittier spaceship designs.

> ==>

...well that’s a touch disturbing.  Is that a Jade-occupied bed or are those just pillows?

Oh what the fresh fanfic’y heck is this command.

> i enter.

Okay that’s great.  I got a kick out of that.

JADE [in calliope red]: the prince’s power grows.

--but that’s not.  That explains the narrative command text, it’s alt!callie talking through a still conked-out Jade.  Please let her wake up between speak-throughs, please tell me you’ve learned that trick??  I already know you’re gonna pull an “oh she was asleep pretty much all of those THREE YEARS OF TRAVEL” thing on me and that’s hard fucking enough to deal with.

KARKAT: JESUS CHRIST!

He’s actually using the full curse correctly, huh?

...These commands.  Guess part of the puzzle is how much alt!Callie is being typically morbid and how much she might actually be wising up enough to get a kick out of this.

> the knight of blood falls.

DAVE: dude can you chill for like even a single fucking second DAVE: also are you ok

Has CallieJade chilled for even a single second this entire trip??  Is he asking just if Karkat’s okay or Jade too???

--yeah I’m overblowing things out of nervousness.  Just wait and see a bit, boots.

Alt!Callie has at least learned to be more of a smartass:

> karkat is characteristically appreciative of the alarm call.

Shirt trade Karkat, nice.  And uh, Jade’s dress sure is a... dress.  Hm.

(Did alt!Callie alchemize adjustments to did she just luck out to have a red-symbol’d Bec belt and accent leggings?  I’d prefer the former, because as much as it would be acceptable within Homestuck proper, using the transition between the epilogues and this new-author’d work to just HAPPEN to give her a fitting outfit without an excuse via providence is kind of lazy.)

KARKAT: OH, PARDON THE FUCK OUT OF ME FOR OVERREACTING A LITTLE WHEN MY GOOD FRIEND "POSSESSED JADE" BUSTS INTO MY RESPITEBLOCK AT 5 AM! KARKAT: NEXT TIME I’LL JUST PULL THE COVERS BACK AND LET HER CLIMB IN! JADE: i am uninterested in that scenario. KARKAT: GREAT! POSSESSED JADE ISN’T EVEN HORNY! HOW FUCKED UP IS THAT?

...please let that mean he’s not used to her being possessed all the time and she wakes up sometimes.  PLEASE.

DAVE: but im pretty sure i locked that door JADE: i unlocked it with my mind. DAVE: fuck KARKAT: FANTASTIC. JADE: the prince’s powers are growing, but so are mine.

Dave, I’m pretty sure regular-ass no-Green-Sun Space powers can flip a few lock tumblers too.  (--though, I guess from context this was a Jakeship technolock.  Confirmation on the ship’s bad taste in design.  --I think I’m foggily remembering it said in the Epilogues that they took one of Jake’s ships just like Dirk did, too... man, being depressed so much by the Epilogues sure took a lot out of my ability to recall them decently.)

KARKAT: LIKE YOU DON’T FLOAT AROUND LIKE A CREEPY PIECE OF SHIT ALL DAY AS IT IS?

God DAMN IT she’s been asleep and possessed the whole fucking time.

> sleep is abandoned, coffee sought.

More obligatory DaveKat being cute, somehow only emphasized by the embarrassing glowing-with-power observer who doesn’t really get any of it.

Ah, here we go:

> the rogue is also awake.

Oh huh.  Cool!

Hero outfit, understated...  her his choice of heart-shades color-coded to stand out from Dave more to avoid further mistaken identity cases.  Works well!  (Holy shit I only JUST remembered at the end to go back and correctly gender Roxy as him, that was close. I blame the epilogues for a lack of visual reinforcement; I shouldn’t have as much trouble soon enough.  Seriously, I don’t remember ANYTHING without visual reinforcement, I think that’s why I remember so much of Homestuck proper so clearly.)

KARKAT: OH SHIT, THERE SHE IS! I DIDN’T EVEN HEAR HER FOLLOW US! ROXY: sometimes a girls just got to get her drift on i guess ROXY: it be like that

ilu roxy.

I missed Roxy so much, you guys.  I need more of him remarking on all this crazy shit if I’m gonna stay sane though all this.  (And I need more of him and AWAKE JADE kicking ass independently or together if I’m going to continue to believe there’s justice in the world.)

> ==>

We rarely saw Rose drinking anything but the rare coffee in canon, but I think Kanaya would have gotten her plenty into tea, yes.  Or at the very least, wanting the aesthetic of drinking tea with Kanaya would have gotten Rose into tea even if it never crossed Kanaya’s mind to try the stuff.

ROXY: well i mean who knows what she drinks now ROXY: dirk probs tossed the coffee machine out the space window right away ROXY: dude doesnt "believe" in "substances" > the prince is contemplated for a moment in silence.

FUCK, Dirk can see the narrative all the way out here???  No wonder alt!Callie’s forced to have possession turned on 24/7.  That’s fucking disappointing.  How the hell are we going to get any proper Jade time with THAT hanging over our heads?  She’d only be able to do anything when Dirk’s knocked out, and maybe not even THEN!

I was virtually promised more of actual non-asleep Jade getting shit done in HS^2.  Now there’s an even longer wait on it than I expected.  This sucks.

(EDIT: BOY did I misread that link line. Thinking “is contemplated” meant is sitting contemplating, when it meant "is being contemplated by everyone here". That was dumb of me.)

*clicks that next link*

Oh my goodness, Roxy joined the Bird Hair Crew.  It makes him look like a fucking asshole but I kind of love it.

KARKAT: IS THERE MILK?

I can’t believe Karkat is okay with drinking milk.  --yes, culturally Trolls are more comfortable with animal excretions than we are, but you would’ve thought years of railing against Equius would have purged any tolerance the idea of milk from his psyche.

I guess Dave introduced him to cereal, and it was all over from there.

DAVE: this is more like a castle DAVE: a castle of idk DAVE: twenty something ennui

Sounds like a relatable mood.  Especially considering Dirk probably decided to conquer reality out of almost nothing but twenty-something ennui.

Alright.  You aren’t going to turn Kanaya into an alcoholic or anything on us are you?

> the knight of time seeks a sylph...

--this is the shittiest shipboard starship aesthetic.

> ...and finds her, momentarily.

WOW that looks fucking depressed.  :(

> ==>

...okay you know what?  Never mind.  That outfit has wrapped straight back around into Trying Too Hard and is now hilarious.

DAVE: you ever feel like our whole lives are eventually gonna end up like this DAVE: just blasting through space on a sweeps long journey to ""somewhere"" chasing after or running from some vague enemy thats sometimes a god modded pet dog and sometimes your dad DAVE: without the faintest fucking idea of whats going to happen when we get there DAVE: thats a little specific but you know what i mean

Why do you think the epilogues upset us so much?  We thought we’d won free of that bullshit.

> ==>

Oh jesus christ that’s the most depressingly sad I’ve ever seen Kanaya drawn.  :C

--Karkat got you to watch Serendipity?  That’s amazing, Dave.

KANAYA: You Arent Reminding Me Of Her As I Rarely Think Of Anything Else KANAYA: I Close My Eyes And I See Her KANAYA: I Keep Them Open And I See Her

Fuck.

Y’know how little showing these two in love and actually HAPPY together we’ve seen in this entire comic and its subworks?  Despite them having spent at least a few happy years together we only saw in tiny screenclips?  And how Candy alluded super hard that they most likely couldn’t get that in this real timeline where shit’s going down?

Seriously, FUCK.  You could at least pretend to give us some hope, here.

Oh no, don’t ask for the nursery story, Dave.  Unless it turns out to be a funny one or a Rose twist on an old story or something.  Which it probably is, I should stop worrying.

> ==>

KANAYA: Oh Its A Wriggler Story About A Young Prince And The Beloved Flower He Loved And Lost DAVE: flower DAVE: like a plant KANAYA: Its A Fairytale Dave DAVE: right KANAYA: A Singular Wild Rose He Failed To Cherish When He Had Her KANAYA: And His Journey Of Discovering What She Meant To Him All Along KANAYA: Culminating In A New Quest To Find Her And Win Her Back

Dirk you PIECE OF SHIT did you rewrite the narrative of the fucking STORIES SHE TOLD CHILDREN?!??  Does the fact that alt!Callie is only in the present mean he can rewrite ANY past event we didn’t literally SEE???  FUCK you.  Seriously fuck all of this.

Please tell me she was kidding just then, or realizes there’s fucking something wrong with what she’s saying and getting angry or.

(EDIT: shoutyourporpoise replied: "Hey, idk If you picked up on this, but the 'nursery story' Rose told to the wigglers is just The Little Prince, which is maybe a BIT early for them to read, but I don't think that's a case of Dirk changing the narrative; its just Rose being Too Adult as usual." Oh, damn, I didn't even CATCH that it was that story. That makes all of this a lot more forgivable, even if pretty unforgivably leaning into the fiction that Dirk used to brainwash and kidnap her. Maybe that's exactly why it worked -- fiction, a story so blazed into the public consciousness? Hm. Thanks, shoutyourporpoise.)

KANAYA: But In A Way I Feel As If It Is the Greater Universe Trying To Tell Me Something

Mother fuck I’m even going to have to see our protagonists warped by Dirk when they’re ostensibly FULLY SHIELDED aren’t I.  There’s only so much of that I would be able to take, you know.

KANAYA: It May Simply Stem From My Longing To See Her Again And How Much Is Indicative Of Something More Sinister KANAYA: She Is A Goddess Of Light And The Only Of Her Kind We Know Is Alive After All KANAYA: Maybe Shes Wrested Dominion Of The Entire Concept In All Its Appearances Within This Frame Of Reference

Hm.  Well, it being a product of Rose’s ascension instead of Dirk’s is possibly a more charitable take, with Ultimate Rose projecting the delusion enforced on her backward, visible to past Rose’s Sight when she isn’t paying attention and thus paving the way for Dirk to paradoxically exploit that “ideal” as something Lighty and Important and “Perfect”.  I still don’t fucking like it though.

> ==>

DAVE: sorry i know you say you got your badass monster powers but kanaya you look tired as hell DAVE: not that im tryna psyche you or whatever but youre waxing poetic in the dark which i guess is maybe on brand but still

Yyyep.

DAVE: unless terezi is lurking in the vents somewhere and now that i bring that up its actually not out of the question so im kind of gonna be thinking about that one for a while

Pffff.

DAVE: youre the only person i know whos still basically the same as when i met you

--Which is kind of going to have to change, right?  She’s got some other cosmic purpose ready to change her a little more than she changed pre-human-troll-meetup, you’d think.

> ==>

Cute as hell.

> ==>

KANAYA: How Are Your Feelings

There’s the title drop.  I’d think Dave’s doing pretty well, considering?  Still fucked over by Dirk betraying and tricking Rose away who he’s been close with all his life, but.

> ==>

DAVE: except sometimes your best friend disappears and your other best friend goes into a ghost coma and your third best friend fucks off to space with your dad DAVE: the dude youve spent the last 7 years convincing yourself isnt an egomaniacal anime villain DAVE: and who isnt actually lying in wait to completely decimate your life and your emotions and shit

Ah... yeah.  A little worse than my casual list, huh?  Forgot that Jade vanishing into a possession-coma for THREE FUCKING YEARS is going to be hard on people inside the comic too, fuck.

DAVE: maybe it was naive to think that a bunch of twenty something trauma victims could run a society

I was honestly surprised they TRIED to run society at all.  Jasp even just highlighted a big reason why not in the bonuses.

DAVE: cool how earth c existed for centuries then we show up and manage to ruin society in seven fucking years

:(

Well, the trolls got THEIR lesson on why they didn’t deserve to rule over their new universe like gods; I guess some of y’all needed that lesson too?

DAVE: every serious conversation i have inevitably falls apart into riffing on a casual acquaintances ass

True.

Dammit, Dave didn’t feel like he could just be Some Guy even on Earth C.  :(

> ==>

...don’t think I’ve forgotten that nursery story, though.  I don’t want to think that it was something that ACTUALLY past happened, especially not without manipulation.  Like maybe past Rose was foreseeing the false purpose that Dirk wrote for her or the like, a cooperative misunderstanding between the two instead of Dirk or Rose literally reaching back in time.

> meanwhile...

KARKAT: WAIT, WHY THE FUCK AM I EVEN ASKING? HE’S OBVIOUSLY NOT FINE. KARKAT: ARE ANY OF US? ARE YOU? ROXY: not rly KARKAT: EXACTLY.

:(

--Oh right.  I remember that Callie and Roxy were going reasonably steady in Meat even though it was only alluded to, she didn’t freak out and stay awol or what have you.  That’s good to remember.  But it means Roxy deliberately left her behind to go on this dangerous quest, for years.  :C

KARKAT: KANAYA BARELY EVEN TALKS, CALLIOPE WON’T LEAVE THEIR CABIN, JADE JUST FLOATS AROUND LIKE A CREEPY BALLOON THAT’S MOSTLY MADE OF HAIR.

Oh, SHIT.  I should have read one line further.  They DID bring her.  Alt!Callie being here too must really FUCK with her.  ...maybe she can actually learn to accept that alternate way her life might’ve played out, though?

KARKAT: THE REALLY FUCKED UP THING IS I MIGHT BE THE MOST OKAY OUT OF ALL OF US, WHICH IS HOW YOU KNOW SHIT HAS REALLY GONE GLOBES UP.

Quite true.

ROXY: ur kinda an intense dude anybody ever tell u that KARKAT: NO.

Pff.

> ==>

KARKAT: AGAINST PRETTY MUCH ALL ODDS, AND DESPITE ME NOT DESERVING ANY OF IT, I ENDED UP GETTING PRETTY MUCH EVERYTHING I WANTED. KARKAT: OVER AND OVER AGAIN. KARKAT: SOMETIMES IT ALMOST FEELS LIKE WHATEVER SLATHERING MONSTROSITY OF A COSMIC HELLBEAST THAT PUT ALL THIS SHIT INTO MOTION...ACTUALLY LIKES ME?

Well, if you want to blame Lord English for instance... we never saw Caliborn and Karkat interact much, but the parallels between the two were drawn so severely that Caliborn was basically the idealized, multiverse-threatening Ultimate Kismesis that he’d always dreamed of.  And operated against him without him even ever quite realizing it.

If a level of “respect” went from Caliborn to Karkat, too, from his Lord-Englishy vision nigh-omnipresent, then this outcome isn’t very surprising at all.

> ==>

(I don’t quite feel I get why Roxy shifted to this exasperated-Dave expression, but I get logically that he’d been waiting for Karkat to make a breakfast choice... Homestuck proper rarely pulled a “last line said corresponds to next-panel’s expression” without either leaving the conversation blank or having the NEXT lines of the conversation reinforce it, to prevent this inelegant misunderstanding.  Andrew was really damned talented in getting his point across visually, in that regard.  Just like, that careful visual intent delivery.)

Alright, I guess that’s it for this short upd8!  Meeting the pursuit crew was both more and less difficult than I expected.  Hopefully I get desensitized a bit as the characters continue to feel semi-almost-sorta-fine.

I have NO idea how this group is gonna work as a proper crew when we get to whatever weird other-players’ session this shit is going down in, though.

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Scarlet Fever Ch. 1 Princess Justice

LoganLight, AO3

Summary:

Papillon Écarlate has managed the impossible. He's akumatized Marinette. Now with an army of supervillains and no Ladybug to stop him victory seems inevitable.

Unless Adrien can stop him. But will he be enough when his own mentor doubts him?

Notes:

Who can resist an akumatized Marinette? Girl needs to be allowed to feel. (Looking at you Gabriel!) Yeah, I really like What if's and this was just asking for it.

Chapter Summary:

A single stroke of luck in a series of misfortune.

Notes:

What if Catalyst hadn't collapsed and Gabriel could execute his plan? Spoilers for the Ladybug episode.

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"Verity Queen, Princess Justice. I am Papillon Écarlate. Since the innocent isn’t to be believed in anymore, I’m giving you both the power to expose the truth. As for you my desperate loyal ones, disappointed by she who you once admired so much, I’m glad to have you back. In return, you will bring me Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous.”

 Marinette reached up and removed her earrings; Tikki vanishing in a flash. "Yes, Papillon! Here is the Miraculous of the Ladybug!"

Adrien stared, wide eyed with horror. "Marinette!?" No, it couldn't be her! It couldn't be! His classmates echoed Adrien's shock. Alya denied the possibility of Ladybug being akumatized and Chloé denied the possibility of Marinette being Ladybug.

But none mirrored Adrien's surprise like Papillon Écarlate. "You!? Ladybug!? Oh, this is delightful news!" He grinned at the unexpected gift the universe had given him. "With Ladybug out of the picture I only need Chat Noir's Miraculous! And without his precious Lady he has no chance against me!"

Adrien couldn't move. He had to move! He couldn't just stare as Ladybug, as Marinette, handed the only hope they had of stopping this to their mortal enemy! He tensed his body like a spring.

Marinette held out the earrings, offering them to the unseen adversary while the akumatized waited for instructions. They were unaware of anything for the moment save Papillon's commands. The unaffected students stood frozen as Marinette's identity sunk in.

Adrien launched himself at Marinette. Sprinting past the scarlet villains he snatched the Miraculous from her grasp.

"Stop him!"

Adrien bolted from the lockers. The door slamming in his wake. The akumatized gave chase. All save Marinette and Sabine. They turned their gaze to the un-transformed students that remained.

Marinette glared at Lila. The self satisfied smirk the liar had worn throughout this disaster finally slipping as she realized what was about to happen. Lila reached for an akuma.

Marinette was suddenly there, gripping Lila's wrist. "No, you don't," she growled through the other girls cries of fear.

Dark red mist covered Marinette as the other students backed away. Their escape blocked by Sabine's own transformation. The terror of witnessing these last two transformations allowing one of the remaining akuma to possess Ivan.

When the mist cleared Princess Justice and Verity Queen stood revealed.

Princess Justice wore a Roman-style knee-length crimson dress. Her face was obscured by a butterfly shaped mask with tear-like markings coming from her glowing, pure white eyes. Her hair came down in waves with a rose gold tiara on her head. A rope-like belt the same color as her tiara circled her waist. The bag that held her akuma hung at her side.

Verity Queen wore a scarlet chángpáo with a golden dragon as it's design. Her blue skin made a sharp contrast. She had no mask and was the same short height. But the dual blades she pulled from her back held a mother's wrath.

Princess Justice floated above the floor, keeping one hand around Lila's wrist she reached into her bag and pulled out a handful of dust.

Lila struggled harder to free herself. "Wait! You can't do this to me! I didn't do anything wrong! I-"

"Lila Rossi! You are accused of lying to those that trust you and framing Marinette Dupain-Cheng!" Princess Justice held the dust from her bag close to her face and blew it at Lila.

The liar cried out as the dust clung to her.

"How do you plead!" Princess Justice commanded as she let go.

Lila struggled against the curse to tell a lie, any lie! But to no avail. "I- I- I did it! I framed Marinette for everything! You shouldn't have gotten in my way! You should've just rolled over like the rest of your pathetic friends!" Lila slapped her hands over her mouth.

The un-transformed students stared at her in shock. Alya in particular froze at the admission. Lila lied, Marinette was telling the truth. And Alya had doubted her. Alya's guilt surged and the circling akuma took advantage of it.

"Lila Rossi!" Princess Justice pulled her belt out, revealing it to be a whip, and raised the weapon up to strike. "You are found: Guilty!"

The whip struck Lila across her arms as she raised them to protect herself. But that didn't stop her from feeling the full weight of Justice.

Lila screamed as she felt Marinette's rage at her manipulation. As she felt Adrien's suppressed disgust at her unwanted attention. As she felt her classmates' despair and disappointment over Marinette's 'fall'. Lila felt every negative emotion she'd ever inflicted.

Lila collapsed from the weight of her sins, unconscious.

Princess Justice stared at the liar's prone form, the barest hint of a smile on her ruby red lips. Next she turned to Chloé and Sabrina.

"Chloé Bourgeois! You are accused..."

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

In his lair Papillon waited with increasing impatience for his villains to find Adrien. They'd lost track of him and were now combing the rooms. Zombizou and Princess Fragrance converting the school as they went.

Catalyst was no less worried. "The akumatized are not known for their restraint. What will they do with Adrien?"

Papillon twisted his grip on his sword-cane. "He shouldn't have interfered! Ideally Princess Fragrance will use her perfume on him and then she can deliver him here along with the Miraculous!"

Catalyst didn't voice any objections to this. "And the Ladybug girl?"

Papillon grinned as he viewed through Princess Justice's eyes. She'd just rendered Chloé unconscious. "Even without her earrings she could still prove invaluable to us."

"Enough of that, Princess Justice! You have more valuable sinners to judge."

Princess Justice paused in her verdicts and guessed which enemy her master wanted gone. "Will you send me to judge Chat Noir?"

"No, I send you to judge the Guardian!"

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

Adrien crouched next to the inner window of the classroom he ran into immediately after exiting the lockers. The akumatized ran right past his hiding place in their rush. He felt his heart pounding against his ribs.

Plagg zipped out of Adrien's overshot. "Kid, their gone but they're gonna double back. You have to transform and get outta here!"

"... Marinette is Ladybug..." Why was it so obvious? It couldn't be anyone else. Yet, he hadn't seen it. And now she was akumatized like he'd been. He hadn't protected her. He'd failed.

Plagg touched the boy's cheek and Adrien started at the touch. When had he started crying? "Kid. We have to go. You're no good to anyone if you get yourself akumatized again. We gotta save your lady-love."

Adrien rubbed the tears from his eyes as he wrestled his emotions under control. "R-right! We-" A thought stopped Adrien in his tracks. "Plagg... Marinette knows how to find Master Fu."

Plagg's eyes widened in fear.

"Plagg, transforme-moi!"

Chat Noir leapt from the second story window and sprinted across the rooftops. His grip so tight on Ladybug's earrings he felt them prick even through his gloves. He didn't slow down until Françoise Dupont was far behind. Until the frantic beating of his heart was more exertion than terror.

He opened his palm and gazed at the familiar earrings. They flashed and a familiar kwami gazed at him with wide, frightened eyes. Chat Noir swallowed the sob that threatened to escape. He had practice suppressing his emotions and now wasn't the time to stop.

Chat Noir focused on the task at hand. "Tikki, where's Master Fu?"

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Ch.2  Ch.3  Ch.4  Ch.5

Notes: ... Lila has Ladybug-level Plot Armor. There's no piercing that unless the writer's on board. :)

[femslashhistorian]

Alpha/Beta/Omega (A/B/O) Supercorp AUs (short f/f fic rec)

Warning: A/B/O is controversial and clearly not for everyone (not sure what A/B/O is? see fanlore).

This short Supercorp AU fic rec exclusively features Alpha/Beta/Omega (A/B/O) or omega verse stories; including g!p (girl penis).

If you are not comfortable with this, than stop reading now - you can look at the dozens of femslash fic recs that I have done that feature neither.

If you like Supercorp and heard of A/B/O and were thinking of giving it a try, then this is for you.

This is not a full rec post, just a short and quick rec list - with some thought thrown in for some of the fics.  

All fics are smutty and mature or explicit. Don't forget to check the tags and author's warnings. Regarding story, there is everything from PWP to deep and meaningful stories - and everything in between. 

While Alpha!Kara is more popular (clearly the majority of the stories on AO3) I like Alpha!Lena just as much, in fact I think it is an interesting dynamic. Thus I have included both.

Alpha!Lena / Omega!Kara

The Need by TheEvangelion

[Completed, 1 chapter, 10k words, 2019]

Alpha Lena/Omega Kara — Kara has just had a baby and their first heat postpartum is coming fast and hot. Creative problems require creative solutions for the couple, and Lena is anything but gentle with her woman of steel. (Anal, lactation, knotting, biting.)

This one is pretty sweet - in addition to smut.

 Heat Wave by Kendrene

[WIP, 5 chapters, 18k words, 2019]

Nobody expected Kara to present, but when she turns out to be an Omega and loses control of her powers at the same time, Alex has no choice but to have her locked away inside the D.E.O.

However, when it becomes clear that her heat may last longer than a human one without an Alpha to take care of things, Alex's ex-girlfriend, Maggie, comes up with a plan. A plan involving none other than Lena Luthor, Kara's friend, and secret crush.

After all, asking your best friend to knot and mate you so you don't end up killing anybody isn't a big deal, right?

Usually it is Alpha!Kara who get locked up inside the DEO, but in this fic it is Omega!Kara. Interesting premise, with background Sanvers

 Sweetest Goodbye by Slysupercorp

[WIP, 4 chapters, 14k words, 2019]

Supergirl comes across Lena Luthor at a very inopportune moment and the consequences force out the truth. Can they find a way to forgive each other?

Alpha!Kara / Omega!Lena

Don’t Make It A Habit by Aspidities

[Completed, 6 chapters, 25k words, 2019]

When Kara goes into unexpected and unpleasant rut, Lena offers a helping hand. Because what else are friends for, right?

This one is really well written. Combines A/B/O with FWB. First part of an ongoing series. Kara is Supergirl

  A Dangerous Attraction by Kendrene

[WIP, 3/4 chapters, 12k words, 2019]

Lena Luthor may be an omega, but she will stop at nothing to achieve what she considers to be the greater good. Not even if it puts her right onto Supergirl’s hit list, and especially because, unbeknownst to everyone else, she has the alpha wrapped around her finger.

Of course, she’ll never admit that she’s in love with her archenemy either.

 Evil!Lena (sort of?), very interesting premise. I love this one.

 Strange by mid_sweettalk

[Completed, 1 chapter, 7k words, 2018]

Lena knew there was something different about Kara--well, aside from being an alien. Lena was used to being "on edge" around Kara, but it had gotten to the point where all Kara had to do was walk into the room and Lena's underwear would be soaked through. Something very strange was happening to Lena, and Kara Danvers was the one with the answers.

Different premise again. In this one Lena was originally not an Omega. And Kara is really very, very sorry.

 SuperAlpha by TheEvangelion

[WIP, 26 chapters, 70k words, 2017-2019]

Alex and Maggie have been taking bets since they were first mated over whether Kara is an Omega or an Alpha. Twenty-three years old and she has still yet to present as either. But when Kara turns up to the DEO starting her rut, panic ensues over what the Woman of Steel will be capable of doing in her desire for an Omega. Until Alex can trust Kara around human Omegas during her rut, she makes the decision to put her sister in a cell until she can figure out what to do.

To no surprise, the only Omega that Kara has been around, Lena Luthor, is coming into her heat and desperate in her search for Kara. This mess, along with a damn Luthor who refuses to be told no, is the last things Alex needs. After all, she's hiding a pretty big secret of her own...

Then again, Alex isn't the only one with a secret or two.

A really long one that starts with Kara getting locked up. Background Sanvers.

  Flagrare by Ryaninthesky

[WIP, 2 chapters, 7k words, 2017]

Kara is trying very hard to suffer through her heat alone, far away from the woman she's helplessly attracted to. Of course, Kara going radio silent just makes Lena more determined to see her, and even though humans don't have Alphas or Omegas like Kryptonians do, Lena's still in trouble when Kara's pheromones affect her too.

Porn with feelings? And the tiniest hint of exposition.

Incomplete and the last update was quite a while ago but worth reading.

 Strangers with Benefits by smutaboutyou

As I had written about this one before (Supercorp AU Fic Recs Part 3) I re-used the text.

Setting: Supergirl TV 2015 (DCU), AU (Alternate Universe) g!p, ABO, College/University, no powers

Relationship: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor (Supercorp) (f/f)

5 Chapter, 33k words (as of 2019-01-06, incomplete)

Published: 2018

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Additional Warnings/notes: PWP, ABO, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, g!p, Girl Penis Kara Danvers

“It’s not like I wouldn’t return the favor.” “Return the favor?” Kara’s brow crinkles. “Yeah, you know… You pound me silly during my heats. And I'll ride you till you break during your ruts,” Lena says in a breezy tone. Kara promptly chokes on her coffee.

a.k.a. A fic where two (almost) perfect strangers agree on a mutually beneficial sexual relationship, but end up falling in love like losers.

a.k.a. A classic FWB AU with an omegaverse twist.

I rarely rec ABO stories (not sure if I ever have) but if I recommend only one it should be this one. Additionally it is also a WIP fic which I also rarely recommend, but I need to include it here because it is brilliant.

It is an ABO / omegaverse story - but it is probably not a lot of things you might think of when you read this. It is also a no powers college/university AU. This is a pretty "normal", modern society that is dealing with the "issues" of an omegaverse in "civilized" and rational ways (e.g. there is medication available). There is no dubious consent and similar aspects often found in ABO stories. The basics of an omega verse however do remain. There are Alphas, Betas and Omegas. Kara is a female Alpha (also g!p/girl penis) and Lena is an Omega.

Told from Lena’s POV this is a wonderfully written strangers to friends with benefits to lovers story. To quote one of the author's tags: "Porn with hella plot".

One of the things I love about this story is how well it blends Supercorp into an Omega verse and how much it turns many Omega verse tropes around: Kara is shy and an awkward alpha. Lena is assertive and strong and she really cannot stand the hormone suppressants that she needs to take once a month. She really prefers the "traditional" way.

 This was cross-posted to Pillowfort, tumblr and my WordPress blog

If you liked this, you might enjoy

US President AU femslash fanfic rec (Xena AU, Supergirl, General Danvers, SuperCat) [tumblr] [WordP]

8+3 Great Black Hill (Natasha / Maria, MCU) Fics [tumblr] [WordP]

Supercorp AU Fic Recs Part 1 - Distorted Realities: of Time Travel, Amnesia and Black Mercies [tumblr] [WordP]

[worddevdealswithml]

The Prince’s Bride

Chapter 13:

Nathalie’s expression faded back to its eternal neutrality.

She seemed to flow down the steps into the Pit of Torment, her right hand tapping lightly at the fan which was holstered at her side.

And there was Marinette, with the same black suit, and the same restraints.

Nathalie was pleased to note that the restraints on her arm had worked, especially considering the fact that her left hand was still healing from her attempt to remove the ring.

Best that she didn’t have the chance to use it.

“Have you been enjoying your stay?”

Marinette managed a smile of false confidence.  “Of course.  It’s great down here.”

“Hm,” she said, as some trace of amusement prickled at her.

“I’m sure you have some conception of what I’m capable of by now.”

“You transform people.”

“I summon their emotions into a solid form,” she corrected.  “Though, of course, that does manifest as a transformation.  I’ve been perfecting my craft for almost 5 years, now, and I believe I’m getting close to my goal.”

“Which is?”

She gave Marinette an impassive look.

“I’ll make you a deal; wait a few seconds, and I will answer you.”

Marinette blinked at her.

She withdrew the fan with a practiced motion, and, with an even more practiced motion, snapped it open.

Her hand tensed as the pain hit her, and there was a strange, unnatural noise, like lightning, as the fan’s feathers twisted, broke, regrew before her.

She powered through the pain, and focused on her target.

 Marinette, not entirely certain what Nathalie was doing, felt like she was sick, as if her whole body was going to throw up.

Her breathing shook, her stomach unsteady, as long, long seconds passed.

And then, suddenly, the sensation vanished.

She tried to focus her vision, her eyes failing to obey her, and then…

She blinked in the sudden light, and looked at Nathalie again.

There was no new light.

Nathalie looked emotionlessly at her.

“Interesting,” she said.

“What?”

“Control,” she said.

“Wh-  What?”

“My goal.  You asked.”

A smile curled unsettlingly across Nathalie’s face, as she looked directly into Marinette’s eyes.

“This Miraculous is meant to create guardians out of emotions, but it’s broken.  It’s meant to create them outside of the person the emotion is from.  Instead… It overwrites them.  I could, of course, simply annihilate your soul now, but I see no reason to do that.  It’s far more useful to both of us if I do this properly, so, for both of our benefits, what did you feel as I began?”

“I- I…  I…”  The words weren’t flowing properly.

Nathalie watched her flounder.

“Interesting.”

 Gabriel had been telling the truth when he’d said that he was swamped; The Gilded Kingdom had subtly different marriage laws, and he was on a time-crunch, which they were trying to use to force him into a bad deal.  That, coupled with the fact that he’d had to step out to send messages to his fake assassin, and again to handle a rowdy decorator…

When his chief enforcer walked in, it almost didn’t matter that Gabriel himself had summoned him.

“Sir?  You called for me,” he said, his voice a light drawl.

Mentally, Gabriel regeared himself for the conversation.

“I did.”  He stood up, and looked over.  “Close the door.”

The man gave him a questioning look, but complied.

As the comparative silence struck them, Gabriel looked him dead in the eye.

“As my chief enforcer, you are the only one with whom I will entrust this secret; I have reason to believe there may be assassins in the Thieves’ Forest plotting to kill Adrien on his wedding night.”

He let the words sink in, and then…

“There are even whispers that it is a plot by the Gilded Kingdom.”

The man stared.

“Sir, my spy network has heard no such thing.”

Gabriel was about to make some statement about how he had other sources, but was spared the trouble by Adrien’s entry.

Barely even noticing the enforcer, Adrien looked directly at Gabriel.

“Have you heard anything from Marinette?”

“You would have heard about it if I had,” he said, his expression carefully neutral.

“She will come for me.”

He didn’t say a word, as Adrien left again.

That was the second time he’d done that, and Gabriel was starting to get tired of it.

He turned back to his enforcer.

“I will not see him hurt.  On the day of the wedding, the Thieves’ Forest must be emptied, and the inhabitants arrested.”

“Many of the inhabitants will resist.  My regular enforcers will be inadequate.”

Gabriel shrugged.  “Then form a brute squad.  I will willingly supply additional power if you need it, but the Thieves’ Forest must be emptied before the wedding.”

“It will still be difficult, sir.”

Gabriel looked around at the paperwork.

“Believe me.  I understand difficult.”

...

The day of the wedding had arrived.  The brute squad had their hands full carrying out Gabriel’s orders, but with a bit of elbow grease, the chief enforcer had already gotten a wagon full of the Forest’s occupants, which, at a glance, had just about everyone…

“Is that everyone?” asked the enforcer to an assistant who was shimmering with the power of one of Gabriel’s butterflies.

“Almost.  There’s a woman with a Miraculous who’s giving us some trouble.”

“Well then.  Give her some trouble right back, why don’t you?”

The brute blinked blankly at him, as the wagon receded into the distance.

He turned towards the hovel of a meeting house that doubled as an inn in this tiny settlement.

“Give her some trouble right back,” he mimicked, and scoffed.  “What did you think we were doing?”

Because, the problem with this particular woman was…

He opened the door into the inn.

It was full.

Well, not actually full, but there were orange figures everywhere, and a pair of bewildered enforcers.

The enforcers were trying to clear her out, but none of the figures seemed to be, and every time they swung their clubs through one, it disintegrated, only to be replaced moments later by another.

As he entered, her voice rose up from some indeterminable place in the room.

 “Is that you, Lila?  You should have been back days ago.”

There was a flicker in the figures, and they moved erratically for an instant, and then all turned to look at him.

“Ho there,” he said.

There was a dismissive noise from a figure by the bar, “keep your ‘ho there’, I already told the others, I’m not moving.”

“Gabriel has given his orders.”

“Well I don’t answer to him,” came the voice, much nearer, and to his surprise, one of the figures stood up, and walked vaguely towards him, swaying unnervingly, a flute in her hand.  “When a job goes wrong, you go back to the beginning.  This is where we got the job, so it’s the beginning, and I’m staying here until Lila gets here.”

Surely this couldn’t be the real one.  Then again, surely he couldn’t pass up the chance if it was.

He pulled back his club, and let fly-

It bounced off of nothing in front of her.

She blinked at her continued survival, and the shimmer of green in front of her.

“Oh,” she said, flatly.

“What,” he said, and then felt a presence behind him.

“Alright dude,” came a man’s voice, “c’mon, get out of here.”

He spun, club flailing wildly at what seemed to be another person who wasn’t supposed to be here.

He yelped, dropping his weapon at the shock of hitting something solid and unyielding.

He was face to face with a man who also seemed to be using a Miraculous, whose shield had effortlessly blocked his club.

“I don’t think we’ll be sticking around here anyway,” he said, turning to the other enforcers.  “I figure I collect my friend, we head out, and nobody gets hurt.”

“You have to be arrested,” said one of the enforcers in the back.

“Alright, I hear one vote for fighting,” said the man, pointing at the one who'd spoken, “any more?”

He had a job to do, and if he didn’t do it, Gabriel would know, if he was paying even a lick of attention.

He surreptitiously picked up the club, as the other enforcer dithered.

“C’mon, dude,” he said to the woman, as she staggered a bit closer.

One more time, he pulled back the club, and swung-

The club ricocheted off another of those transparent green barriers, and back into his face.

The one who had opted for combat tried to take advantage of what should have been a distraction, rapidly received a shield to the throat, and collapsed, struggling for breath.

The remaining enforcer thought better of it, and slipped out the back.

“Alright, that’s everyone,” said the man, as his friend finally made it to him, “let’s get going.”

He tried to claw his way to his feet again, but he seemed almost concussed, and couldn’t quite make his limbs do what he was trying to tell them to.

 Nino, holding on to Alya’s arm, led her easily out of the building.

“You don’t look so good,” he said, at her visibly lack of steadiness on her feet.

“Just a bit tired,” she said, “I’m fine…”

“Yeah, you don’t sound so good either.”

“No…  No, I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

He let go of her.

She took a step forward…

And then fell on her face

“Yeah…  That’s about what I expected.”

[your-high-lady]

Realisation

Summary: This story is about Feyre. She has a couple of small dreams she wants to achieve but turns out it isn’t as easy as she imagined it would. Trust me, the story is better than the summary. Modern AU. Feysand.

Chapter 1  Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4  Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't anything except for the plot. All credit goes to Sarah J Mass. That woman is fucking amazing.

Chapter 6: First Glimpse

Art History. Remind me again, why I chose this class. Oh, that's right. Because I thought it'd be interesting. How wrong I was. I shake my head at my own thoughts before crossing the threshold that would lead me into my next passage of life: college.

But why does Art History have to be the first class I ever took in college. Couldn't it be something like yoga, which I also happen to enjoy?

After almost an hour and a half of the balding male professor droning on and on, the rustling of students and scraping of chairs being pushed back awakened me from my half-unconscious state and I stood up to pack my bag. The next class, Visual Art was the total opposite. I found what the teacher was saying so interesting and barely two sentences into the class, and I was hooked. As I doodled—Miss Berger, a middle-aged woman who had a very good sense of style, light brown hair and huge glasses covering most of her face, had given us free time after explaining what we'd be learning over the semester and what our syllabus was—I thought about it all: I hadn't really known what I'd wanted to do during the first couple of months in Year 13, and I'd started getting a bit worried. And then the rape happened. Exactly two weeks after the incident, it had randomly hit me. I'd just been painting random things on a spare canvas I'd been able to salvage from my mess of a closet when I realised what I wanted to do. I wanted to teach. I wanted to teach people how to paint. Specifically, people who were mentally disturbed due to some incident in their life. I hadn't painted at all during the last couple weeks and today was one of the first times I'd even tried putting something onto a canvas. I didn't want that to happen to other people. I wanted to help them channel their grief into their painting, to create something new. I wanted to see if I could teach them to heal through their art, rather than stopping it altogether, as I had even it was only for a short time. I wanted to make my own business that did exactly that. And that is exactly why I took all the classes I had.

After Visual Art was over, I decided to go for a short walk. I had an hour before my next class, which was with Mor. Business—my only class with her. I was glad I had the class with her, but there was also the fact that Rhys and his friends were in that class too. The thought instantly brought butterflies to my stomach. Mor had messaged me halfway through Art telling me to come ten minutes early so that she could introduce me to him and his friends. Reading the message had immediately brought a picture to the front of my mind. A picture of Mor's cousin and his friends, who incidentally were also friends with Mor. The thought of seeing them made my skin crawl. It wasn't that I didn't want to see them. I was just a bit nervous. I'd only recently started getting used to the presence of men—though, I still shuddered and got all sweaty if I noticed someone with particularly golden or dark features—but I knew that the second I saw them, I would go back to square one where I was still a quivering mess. They were just so handsome. All three of them. As if God himself had handpicked each of their features and carefully put them together to create the closest thing he could to someone as overpowering as he was himself, in every sense. Plus, all of them had features that reminded me of that night. Rhys's dark blue hair reminded me of the shadows that had been in that dark alley; Cassian's golden skin reminded me of how beautiful and smooth Tamlin's had been under his clothes; and Azriel's hair, though not holding the same darkness in them, was still black. Too much like Dagdan's. Just thinking about them gave me a cold sweat so I quickly kicked all the horrid thoughts out of my head and started imagining the type of car I might want to get, and before long, I was swapping my art diary for a couple of textbooks and heading off to Business.

—

After having nearly asked ten people where my class was, I finally found it. And there they were. The class was half full, some people looking down at their phones or books while others chatted among themselves. But no one was as loud as Mor. She was practically shouting. But then my attention went towards the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. Rhys. Sensing my gaze, he turned to look at me, and I blinked in astonishment, a silent gasp escaping my mouth. I took a couple of steps back, wanting to run away but then Mor turned her head, following Rhys's gaze, and exclaimed, "Feyre, you're here!" She jumped out of her seat, grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me back into class. I was pretty sure at least one of my ankles were sprained judging by the number of times I tripped over my own feet as Mor dragged me in, by the time we reached Rhys and his friends. Moving to stand behind me she pushed me forward before standing on her tippy toes and peeking over my shoulder. "Guys, this is Feyre. Say hi." Mor drawled. Strangely Rhys just stared at me but, thankfully, Azriel replied before he could say anything. "Hello, Feyre. I'm Azriel." He stuck his hand out, and I stared at for the shortest second.

In that second, a hundred things went through my mind: the rape, the emotions I went through afterwards, me flinching at my father's touch, me promising myself that I would stop that. Azriel's handsomeness. Because he was handsome. All three of them were. But each of them was also so different in their own way. Azriel's face was straight and void of any emotion—though a small smile lit up his face, every time he looked at Mor—and he was tall and mysterious with his black hair and hazel eyes. His skin was tan, the planes of his face elegant. Peaking above the neck of his long-sleeved t-shirt I could see a swirling mass of night-blue coloured tattoos. If I was being honest with myself they were a big intimating but despite that, strangely enough, he made me feel… safe. As if he would protect me no matter what. It gave me some solace because I had always trusted my gut. And right now my gut was telling me that he was good. So I shook his hand.

And then it happened. I flinched.

Thankfully it wasn't big enough for Azriel to notice, but it still made me angry. Why didn't my body understand that I was safe now, or at least as safe as I could be? Tamlin was back in Auckland. Far, far away from here, from me.

Taking a couple of subtle deep breaths, to calm myself down, I took my hand out of Azriel's and moved my eyes to look at Cassian. Whereas Azriel made me feel safe, Cassian made me feel…happy. It took a couple of seconds for me to realise that but when I did, I knew that that was in fact what I was feeling. Happiness. It was something so foreign to me now. But it was impossible to not feel happy when I looked into Cassian's hazel eyes and saw humour and laughter and happiness. His rough-hewn features that reminded me of wind, earth and fire had been twisted into a giant smile. His black shoulder length hair brushed his shoulders on which I could also see tattoos similar to the ones on Azriel's body. A quick glance at Rhys told me he also had the blue swirls. Maybe they'd gotten them together at the same time?

Cassian gave me a wave in greeting, his smile widening. "Cassian." He said, in introduction. I waved back, forcing my mind to stop thinking about the flinch. But it was impossible. I turned to find Rhys's hand outstretched. Ignoring it, I looked up at his face. His eyebrows raised slightly as I took in his heartbreakingly handsome face, my eyes widening a little. The pictures I'd seen did him no justice at all. None. His hair was a strange shade of blue and black, cut short. They reminded me of a raven's feather. His violet eyes had flecks of silver in them making it seem like stars in the night sky. He was also tan like the other two, though unlike Cassian and Azriel, there was a tightening in his muscles. I could see it in the ways his shirt tightened around the shoulders. Other than that, lines also made his otherwise-perfect face, a little flawed, though if I was being honest to myself, even the lines made him handsome.

I don't know why I noticed such an odd and minuscule thing, but it bothered me. Someone like Rhys shouldn't have lines caused by months, if not years, of stress and grief marking his face. Someone cleared their throat, and I blinked, then quickly shook my hand with Rhys which was still expectantly waiting. But I hadn't thought about it. And because I hadn't thought about it, I flinched. Harder. Not much more than before, but enough that he noticed. A line formed between Rhys's brows and his head tilted a little to the side in silent question. I shook my head just enough so that he noticed, but the others didn't. I slipped my hand out of Rhys's and Mor started babbling about things that passed right over my head, though I did hear a few words like "art", "passion" and "own business". I guessed that Mor was telling them about me as a person. But even as Mor was talking, I could feel a set of eyes on me. I turned to look at Rhys, who was staring at me. In those stunning eyes of his, I could see it as he'd written it across his forehead. His eyes told me that he was surprised by the flinch and would not let it go. I cursed at myself silently, for letting the flinch get through my defences. Soon the professor came in, and we all took our seats.

But still, I felt those eyes burning two giant holes into the back of my head. I tried convincing myself that I was just imagining it, that he had no reason to stare at for me for so long, but when I turned around to look, I found them. Every single time. And each time, I whipped my head back around, blushing. It made me think: Rhys had no reason to be staring at me; what was he thinking about?

But running along with those thoughts, were also the thoughts about how he made me feel. Physically. Because, though I don't want to admit it, he made me feel… hot. Right down there, in my core. I'd never thought I could feel something like that. Not after what Dagdan did to me. Yet here I was, flinching at the surprise of feeling aroused.

But then, of course, I was.

—

The professor released us, and as we were packing our bags, Cassian suggested we hang out on Saturday. Mor piped up with, "Ooh, ooh, can we go to that mini golf place that stays open really late? We can have dinner somewhere, first, and then go there! Please, please, please?" She says turning to Rhys, and she brings her hands together as if praying and jumps up and down in excitement. He smiled, nodding causing Mor to squeal and give her cousin a tight hug.

—

"But I don't want to go!" I whined. Mor shushed me and strutted a couple of steps ahead of me before turning around to look at me. As she walked backwards, she said, "But why don't you want to go? Give me one good reason. Just one." And damn me, I said nothing, just breathed deeply in and out of my nose. I shook my head, defeated and she smiled at me before linking her arm in mine and skipping sway, dragging me along with her.

The truth was, I did have a reason. I just couldn't tell her. It was Rhys. I just knew he was going to do something that would either annoy the heck out me, offend me, or in worst case scenario blow my cover. Nobody knew about my flinching problem other than Dad and Rhys, and neither of them knew why. And I wanted to keep it that way. But something told me Rhys wouldn't let that happen.

Ugh.

AN: I really, really hoped you like that. Did I describe the boys properly? Do you like them? Are you happy? Do you have any feedback or advice for me? Tell me everything. I love it so much when you write to me telling me what you think of my story. It really makes my day and also motivates me to keep writing. Thank you so much for reading and I hope to see you again.

Thank you again. So much. XOXO

[kookiesbadhabits]

My Firsts [M] no. 1

gif credit

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6?

SUMMARY: three hot boys. one girl. college!au.

PAIRING : vminkook x reader

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

GENRE: fluff, introduction

Part 2 (real plot) coming 5.21.18-5.23.18 

Description

A love... square? I love me some maknae line okay?

So this might be the ONLY story I have ever made a draft for with an ONGOING series in mind, instead of just a smutty oneshot. Don't get me wrong, there's going to be a whole lot of sin, but expect minimal porn logic, but real plot. These boys' characters are based on my life, but in not wanting it to hit too close to home, I'm adding a bit of a twist. 

Based on a true story: that is my mess of a love life (like seriously my life can seem very fanfiction with the level of drama with these three boys. also minus the smut in my life of course, i wish my sex life were this exciting, but maybe in a world with almost no risk of contracting STDs or a world with effortless straight As in university courses) The characters are inspired by some past loves in my life, so this should be a fun little ongoing series I want to try out. 

Also, for context, all three boys plus reader are the same age. 

Opening/Prologue?:

*READER POV*

Boys in general sure are dangerous, but god, these three in particular are on a whole other level. How did I earn such luck to find myself with our paths all intersecting at once?

THE BOYS:

Kim Taehyung was my first everything. Well, every "first" a clueless 8-year-old could comprehend. The first crush, the first boy to push me on the swing, the first guy best friend, the pure-and-filled-with-curiosity-and-confusion first kiss, the first boy I asked to be my boyfriend after all my classmates started asking each other out. He was the first to make me laugh the hardest I ever thought I could; the first to make me cry the hardest I ever could. The first boy to break my heart: my first "almost love". That was who he was to me from elementary to junior high. 

Can you blame me for taking the emotions so seriously? I was just a young, ignorant tween with all my hormones out of whack. None of that should matter anymore, it was a small piece of my past, a small milestone in life, it should have been completely irrelevant to who I became and where would bring me, or us. I guess I was a fool to think it would be entirely irrelevant, we are attracted to what we're familiar with after all. 

Nevertheless, Taehyung was such a blurred fragment of my past, I was already a completely different person by the time we ran into each other for the first time in six years, right there on our university's orientation day. So why did bumping into him and slowly recognizing him feel like a truck against my chest? Seeing him shouldn't have struck such a heavy chord with me, so why?! 

The least of my worries should be none other than Park Jimin, I know this for sure. He was my high school sweetheart, my first real boyfriend, first real kiss . . . first to be intimate with. Two years of growth well spent, back when neither of us had developed a sliver of personality. Our relationship had its fair share of cataclysmic moments, but it was worth it in knowing how well we existed together in that snippet in time. 

We fought frequently due to the difference in our values and passions, and our clashing personalities in general. He was my exact opposite, aloof, childish, an improviser, clueless, innocent and hopeful. I was reserved, serious, ambitious, a careful planner, too mindful for my own good; a realist. I was aware that our relationship had slim chances of keeping its strength after graduation, with him not enrolling to the same post-secondary school. Not to mention, our relationship had been kept a secret from my family for its entirety due to my parents and their rules to keep me focused on my studies. 

As I predicted, after high school graduation we had grown stagnant in our relationship, no longer growing as people. He was a safe anchor, a source of unconditional love, so unconditional that neither of us worked to help improve the other anymore. I loved him but I outgrew him, so naturally I broke up with him on the worst possible day: the day after our 23rd month together, the same day as his father's first death anniversary. I knew it would paint me as the worst person in his eyes, but maybe that's just how I wanted it.

Finally, there is the most dangerous of all, in that I cannot deduce why I feel such a strong pull towards him. He is exactly not my type and it doesn’t add up. I was introduced to him as I was being absorbed into a friend group by my first uni friend, he instantly became the first man in uni to have an energy that effortlessly drew me towards him. This man is Jeon Jungkook, a cheeky flirt clearly hiding behind the mask of a self-fulfilled prophecy as an asshole. 

In the first instances we had met, Jungkook spent two hours pining for my attention, like a child scrambling towards a shiny new toy. Killing time in the library, our "study" group played a bootleg version of Cards Against Humanity. I had read him enough to know what would make him laugh, and he proved so in his verbal praise on my anonymous answers. The whole while we felt connected, we met after all. In just meeting, I knew the universe had already shifted for us. He spent the whole rest of the day finding excuses to continue to spending time with me, actually the whole rest of the term. 

Sadly, I knew he spelled nothing but trouble. Fortunately, it was the kind of trouble I was longing for.

Anyways, enough blathering on about these three boys with such vague air to it, why don't I start from the beginning? I'm ________, 18 years old, in the middle of my first year of university, and had no idea what I was about to get into.

Chapter 1 - Chance Meetings

“CHILDHOOD FRIEND: THE FIRST CRUSH”

"Hey ______," an unfamiliar and rather deep voice calls out to me as I brushed past a small huddle of friends in the crowded university centre.

I instinctively replied hey back, only to stop in my tracks in realizing I didn't recognize the voice. Stunned, and a little confused, I glance over only to lock eyes with a complete stranger with a small friendly smile walking away in the opposite direction.

With a perplexed look plastered on my face, the stranger brushes past his group of friends towards me. My curiosity compelled me to stay put. My eyes, and head naturally tilted up slightly to keep eye contact. He was tall. His sweater was from some high school other than mine, so he couldn't be an old classmate. He just kept smiling at me, beaming like he had met an old friend.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" I finally asked politely. 

He chuckled, "You don't remember me?" gesturing towards himself, pausing as if waiting for his appearance to sink in with my memories. I was still stumped no matter how long the pause, and honestly it was getting too awkward to bear for someone like myself, who doesn't usually voluntarily make small talk with people, much less with strangers.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I do?" I replied, furrowing my brows trying to will some kind of familiarity still looking up at him and his big boxy smile. 

"You look great though!" He continued, practically disregarding my current confusion. "You here for orientation too? This little scavenger hunt is pretty lame, don't you think?" 

Not wanting to be rude, I put on my best socializing voice. "Aww, thank you!" I replied, matching his friendly energy. "I'm actually not. My sister brought me to give me the tour herself, she told me how boring orientation would be."

As we carried on, I kept thinking about who the heck this mans could possibly be? We ended up talking about high schools, he went to XX high, and I mentioned I went to YY high. I noticed his hoodie was not just any school sweater, he was in vocal jazz. 

"So he sings," I thought as I pondered who I knew as a friend that was a good singer. 

Finally, his goofy smile sinks in, and my eyes grew wide and lips pursed into a small 'o' 

"Oh my god, Taehyung?!" I exclaimed, he only laughed at my reaction, though pleased I finally recognized him.

"Most people call me V now but hearing you call me that is so nostalgic," he smiled softly. 

I blushed a little recalling that he had said I looked great, what with the onrush of memories hitting me like a truck. Holy shit, he looked good, grew his hair, parted down the middle, but somehow he was making it work. 

We had talked a little more, asking for bits and pieces on the last couple of years we had been out of each other's loop. That's right, he moved after 7th grade, it had really been nearly 6 years, he had no social media, and our social circles never overlapped. 

We could only talk a moment more before realizing he was keeping his group waiting, and I, my sister. 

Before he could end up out of my life again, I impulsively asked, "What's your number? We should keep in touch!" 

"Wow, _______ since when did your introverted ass have the balls to utter such words?" I thought to myself, mentally biting my tongue, but what's done was done. 

He smiled warmly but with some slyness in his eyes, "I already follow you on Instagram, no worries." 

I was stunned once again, "His name had never shown up on my follower list?" I thought. Before I could say anything, he had jogged to catch up to his group and so I turned to my sister. 

“HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEART: THE FIRST BOYFRIEND”

As usual, my last bus home from campus had to be unbelievably delayed due to the heavy rain. I was on the phone with my ex-boyfriend, now awkward best friend. 

"Are you sure about it? I can really just wait for another bus," I spoke into my phone as I huddled in the roofed shelter of the bus stop, the chilly night air starting to bite through my jacket.

It had gotten pretty dark, despite it only being six in the evening. However, the shadiness of downtown undoubtedly had me on alert.

"It's really no problem, I'm already finished my classes today," Park Jimin replied on the other end. "I don't like the idea of you being alone this late, downtown of all places."

I could hear in his voice that he was already getting up from bed to pick up his keys and head for his car. He already had his mind set and there was little I could do to stop him. He could tell from the pause in my voice I was unsure about the whole thing. The breakup may have been amicable, but it still hurt a little to be with him not being able to instinctively reach for his hand for comfort. In fact, I had been careful not to give him opportunities to come and see me. Yet, here we are.

A drunkard was already beginning to babble out in the streets, with people doing good to veer past him. I watched him warily, slouching to lessen the prominence of my chest, tucking my hair in the folds of my jacket to lessen chances of easily being pulled by the strands. 

"I guess that would be best," I admitted. "Please drive safely." 

"Keep the call on, okay?" Jimin requested with the usual soft concern. "I need to know you're safe there, too."

I smiled, "We couldn't be together anymore, but I'm really happy this is where our relationship led up to," I thought.

In less than twenty minutes, I could see a familiar car approaching towards my stop.

"Get in quickly, _______." he said, also alert by his surroundings now full of potential threats.

I scurried over to his car, and got in quickly, greeted by his familiar welcoming smile. I kept my hand from doing its conditioned action of opening to await his fingers to interlock with mine. He kept his hand on his gear-shift, despite never doing that before and with his car not being manual.

"This is a decent compromise," I thought and smiled to myself, letting my lids bat lightly, the day's events catching up with me. 

Slowly, I let myself fall asleep as usual in our drives, and he woke me gently upon nearing my complex. My roommate, Jean, waited patiently for me to get home safely, leaving a light on. 

Jimin and I exchanged a brief hug at the door, and I thanked him again for his kindness. I watched him walk away as I slowly closed the door. As I thought, there's still a bit of melancholic air in his smile when we see each other.

"I'm sorry, Jimin." I whispered under my breath with him too already too far away to hear. Not that he hadn't already heard that enough times before.

“THE STRONG PULL/NOT-MY-TYPE TYPE: THE FIRST MAN ”

"Oh yeah, since I'm practically absorbing you into my friend group, you've met Jin already but this is Jungkook," Kim started as I sat next across from her in our usual study spot in the library. 

I looked to him, establishing eye contact to give him a sup nod with a smile, he laxly raised a hand and raised his brows to acknowledge the greeting. 

I had met all Kim's guy friends from high school, but none of them piqued your interest in this way. Before even sitting down, I had already spotted him after my eyes found Kim. He was an unfamiliar and attractive individual, emanating energy with a distinct warning written all over it: "TROUBLE".

Nonetheless, I couldn't resist initiating the game that started the moment the universe decided to shift in tune with our meeting. 

In spending no more than half an hour with them, I found Jungkook persistently trying to shift my attention towards him whether it be to tell a witty remark or to try and make me laugh with poorly constructed jokes I had already read off the internet over five years ago. The cool air had to be a facade, all I could see was a dorky squish, spoiled for some attention.

I giggled none the less, to humour him (literally) and to end up one-upping him in the comedy department when we decided to play an app that was practically a bootleg of Cards Against Humanity. 

The phrase was "The worst thing to scream at my grandma's funeral" and my answer had been a blank where I typed, "RIP girl may your bingo wings flap your soul to heaven."

Jungkook, being the judge, burst into laughter mid-way into reading my answer out loud. 

"Whoever put that, good one," he said as he banged a hand against the table with his nose still crinkled in amusement. 

I raised a hand laxly, and he blinked at me, his eyes twinkled with a glint of further intrigue and curiosity. 

Jin ended up winning all the games, and when time came for Kim and I's class, Jungkook quickly got up with us. 

Growing tired of the library scene, Kim and I moved to go to the university centre to get some food. Jin and Jungkook naturally tagged along behind us. I don't know how they did it, but Jin and Kim disappeared for god knows what counselor, leaving me alone with Jungkook. 

We sat with no more and an inch separating us and he looked to me with the same curiosity and intense gaze. I had voiced my discomfort about being left alone. 

"Why are you scared to be alone with me?" Jungkook asked bluntly. "I don't bite."

"Ah, I'm not afraid of you, I'm afraid of being alone with people I just met," I corrected him. "Don't flatter yourself."

By this time, we had easily established some playful banter between us, with him every now and then joking about not being able to handle too much of gaze. Before I knew it, he was telling me a bunch of stories about parties and trips to Paris I didn't ask about.

"Yeah, I woke up with just some girl's bare ass bouncing on my jeans." He continued, trying too hard to show how admired he was by the ladies. 

"We get it, hun, you're hot," I thought through a split-second of lidded eyes before raising my brows again to politely portray my interest in his stories. 

As he was finishing up a story about a flock of French girls crowding him during his class trip to Paris, I sighed in relief to see Kim and Jin approaching. Jungkook was cute, but he was still a boy in my eyes, needy and arrogant. I was fascinated by his character nonetheless, I had never met someone who could sound so full of himself, yet  still seem like just some dorky squish.

Kim and I got up to start walking towards our class building.

"Aw man, it's probably rush hour so I can't drive home even if I wanted to," he spoke to himself aloud. "What class do you guys have?"

"Psych," Kim replied as he pulled the other strap over his shoulder. 

"I might as well sit in your class," Jungkook spoke casually, as if not to sound like he actually wanted to spend more time with us.

"You do you," Kim nodded as she gestured for me to follow her. 

It was only 2:15 pm. I looked over my shoulder to Jungkook, we locked eyes again, I swear I could see his pupils dilate in those big brown eyes. I gave him a small smile before following ahead.

He ended up sitting in our class, beside me the whole time trying to jokingly distract me every now and then. Many times, he showed signs of wanting to leave, leaning over into my ear to whisper.

"When does this class end?" His voice was low and hushed and too close to my ear.

I refused to give him any reaction for satisfaction though and simply whispered back, "Not for another 45 minutes."

He ended up pulling out a book, piquing my interest even more, "A boy into reading on his spare time?!" I screamed in my head. I, _______, had never in my life seen a boy reading a book for pleasure. 

We carried on with class this way, and I just smiled thinking to myself, "Silly Jungkook, everyone knows rush hour isn't until 4pm, you're not fooling anyone you squish."

~ END OF CHAPTER 1 ~

A/N: Ho man 2/3 of these stories are 100% true tbh I may as well have said their real names. It's 2:30 AM now that i've finished this. Worth it. I am so inspired by the comeback and have been craving to start writing again. So I can't wait to get to putting my ideas for this series into ink.

[ritacaroline]

In The Light          Jimmy Page Fan Fiction            Part 41

A Relaxing Birthday

The next day, Jill and Jimmy slept in really late. Finally when they awoke, Jill looked at him and said, “Good morning. Happy Birthday, Jim !” He got a sweet smile on his mouth and stretched out his arms and kissed her. He surrounded her with his arms and hugged her. “It’s so great seeing your face in the morning. Just makes me feel good. ”

Jill asked, “Would you like to rest here more and I could make you breakfast for your birthday and bring it up to you.”

“Thanks, but no, I want to go downstairs with you and eat together. Mrs. Kelly will make us breakfast, she usually makes something special for my birthday.”

“Alright then.” said Jill. “How do you feel after last night ?  A lot of drinking and craziness went on.”

“Eh, not too bad. I’m not gonna say I feel fantastic, but I’m sure I’ll feel better off once I get breakfast.  How about you, angel. Feel ok ?” he asked while petting her hair.

“I feel fine. Still a little motion happening in my stomach from the drinking plus staying out so late. But, I’ll be fine.” Jill remarked.

“Well, if you need anything just let me know. Or you can always ask Mrs. Kelly. She keeps a lot of things on hand for if you’re not feeling well.” he said.

“You are so sweet, birthday dude.” she said. And he laughed at that comment.

“You always make me smile.” he said. They were hugging for awhile.

A minute later he intercommed Mrs. Kelly to say they would be down for breakfast in about 15 minutes. So they got washed up and dressed and went downstairs.

After breakfast, Jill asked him if he wanted to do anything special for his birthday. It was pretty ice cold outside and snowing a little. They decided to go to a movie. He chose the movie which was a horror movie. Kind of a psychological thriller type as opposed to bloody violence. It was fascinating and they loved it, it was a thinker. They went to a pub for a few drinks and snacks afterwards.  They spent a lot of time at the pub discussing the various twists in the plot of the movie. It was a fun thing to discuss and Jill was impressed by his explanation of it, versus her interpretation. Two very different but at the same time, two very possible ways to explain it.

Jill thought of Jimmy as a very intelligent, deep thinking person. She thought of him as a sexy fascinating genius. One with the cutest ass she ever saw. They were drinking Long Island (New York) Iced Teas and getting pretty hammered. They were both laughing their heads off. Luckily Roland was at Jimmy’s planning to pick them up when he was called, or they wouldn’t have gotten so wasted.

At one point , Jill sat back against the booth very hard by accident. She said, “ oh, no, I really hurt myself here.”

“Where is it ?” Jim asked her.

“Right here, my scapula.” she said.

“Your what ?” he asked, with knitted brow.

“ My scapula, right here,…you know, shoulder blade.”

“Ooohh. Why didn’t you say that, then ?“  he said.  “I don’t know all those words that you know.”

“Oh, babe, I’m sorry. I’m just used to hearing and using those words, I guess ever since college and work. Most all friends that I have, use those type of words. I didn’t even think you might not know them. But I’m sorry and don’t feel bad or anything. I wouldn’t know any of the words you use in the music business, either.”

“Okay, I don’t feel bad. But use some more, it’s pretty sexy. My girl is really smart.” he said and gave her a few kisses on her mouth and face.

So, she said, “well, alright, here are some bones in our bodies, well  let’s see,…humurus, tibia, fibula, scapula, sternum, mandible, maxilla, clavicle, femur, radius, ulna, carpals, phalanges, metacarpals, cranium….

“Okay, okay. Wow. I know none of those words, but god, you’re sexy as hell.”

She answered, “I’m not smart, it’s just part of my field, I need to know that type of thing for my work. No big deal, but, I’m completely blown out of the water by your superhuman talents and knowledge of music. I’m in awe of you. And by the way,…you’re as sexy as it gets.“  He was loving her words of praise toward him. He really wanted her admiration.

A few minutes later, a guy came walking by with a few friends with him, and said, “Hey, Jimmy ! how are you, old friend !”

“Jimmy said, "Oh wow, hey, Paul !” and Jimmy stood up and he and Paul grasped onto each other. “Hey, you look really well, mate.” said Jim.

“And you as well !” said Paul. 

“Jill, this is Paul Rodgers, you probably know him from the band Free and more recently from Bad Company, he sings.” Jill said, “Oh wow, Paul, great to meet you. Of coarse I know your bands. How awesome.”

Jimmy said, “Paul this is my girl, Jill, she’s a New Yorker.  And she lives here now, with me.”

Paul said, “Oh, fantastic Jill, so good to meet you.  Have you been here before ? Or is this your first visit ?”

She answered, “First visit. It’s been great so far. ”

Paul said, this my mate Terry, he’s a guitarist as well, and here’s Joy, his girlfriend.“

"Good to meet you.” said Jimmy.  “Want to join us ? Have a seat.”

“Sure, love to.” said Paul. So the three sat down, grabbing a chair each. Jimmy put his hand up and asked what they would like, they responded beer’s fine. Paul said, “Oh no, Jim, let me get it ”

Jim said, “No it’s fine. It’s my birthday.“

Paul said, "Happy birthday, buddy !” He said, and put his arms around Jimmy and kissed him hard on the side of his face, and squeezed him tightly.  Jill next put her arms around Jim and also hugged him and said “Happy Birthday, babe.” She kissed his lips, which they held for a minute. The pitchers of beer arrived with 5 glasses. There were also pretzels and pizza bites, and some fruit pieces. Soon, they were all drinking beer and having a party. Lots of old funny rock and roll stories were flying about and they were playing their own bands songs on a jukebox in there. Songs from the Yardbirds, Mott the Hoople, Bad Company, Led Zepp, Free, you name it. Everyone was singing along with their band’s song and it was more fun than you could imagine. Eventually Jim and Jill decided to call it a night and Roland picked them up. Once home again, they settled in by the cozy fire and lay down together, with Jill petting and running her fingers through his thick shining black hair. He was thoroughly relaxed, but exhausted.  Jill asked, “Did you have a good birthday, sweet angel ?” He said, “Yeah, baby. Better than ever. Can’t believe all those people came to my party last night, which I didn’t even know was gonna happen. Then I had a fantastic day together with you, just you and me. Then the movie, then the pub, then seeing my old buddy. Wow, a lot to digest. And now I have you all to myself, right against me for the night. Can’t think of another thing I could possibly want in this world. I’m unbelievably lucky.”

Next Part 42 :  https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/post/176325921851/in-the-light-jimmy-page-fan-fiction 

Chapter Index :

https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/Fan%20Fiction

[thumper-darling]

all the writer asks? and can you use your current story for the blank ones?

1. Favorite place to write.

My most productive nights writing were spent in hotel rooms with cheap black coffee and terrible lighting. It sets a very motivating vibe. 

2. Favorite part of writing.

Creating and developing characters. Character arcs?? are ?? my favorite??

3. Least favorite part of writing.

writing ™ 

4. Do you have writing habits or rituals?

Yeah, procrastinating for months. :’)

5. Books or authors that influenced your style the most.

Patrick Ness and Stephen Chbosky are pretty big idols of mine

6. Favorite character you ever created.

Cadence, she’s my hero 

7. Favorite author.

Rainbow Rowell or Patrick Ness

8. Favorite trope to write.

Coming of Age Angst ™ and realistic development for the main character

9. Least favorite trope to write.

Love triangles or over-dramatic and non-realistic romantic interests. 

10. Pick a writer to co-write a book with and tell us what you’d write about.

I’d love to work with Chbosky and write a spin-off of Perks of Being a Wallflower, or like a potential sequel? That would make my actual dreams come true. 

11. Describe your writing process from scratch to finish.

In the beginning, I print off a million character questionnaires and fill out every detail about my main characters. It’s funny, because my characters always come first, and the story soon follows. After I know my characters inside and out, I think in their mindset for days and write down notes about things I for sure want to include in my story whether it be a plot twist or just a small piece of dialogue. Once I find the character’s voice, I feel ready to start writing the story.

12. How do you deal with self-doubts?

I’m still not great with this, because I have a LOT of self-doubt, but I know that writing is what I want to pursue. I just remember that I have talent and I shouldn’t worry about the first draft because the first draft is almost always awful.

13. How do you deal with writers block?

I read. A lot. Reading helps spark ideas and un-stick my story.

14. What’s the most research you ever put into a book?

OH MY GOD. I would look at maps and historic timelines. I filled nearly 4-5 pages of a journal just with a timeline of events and it was lit. 

15. Where does your inspiration come from?

Literally anything. That bench on the corner? INSPIRED. Pulling out of a driveway? INSPIRED. That sandwich looks tasty. INSPIRED. No, but in all seriousness I just observe my surroundings at all times and in an average day I can pull an idea out of something. 

16. Where do you take your motivation from?

I just think of my future and what impact/ message I’d like to leave behind to anybody who reads my writing. 

17. On avarage, how much writing do you get done in a day?

None. Writing isn’t something I can do everyday. Some days I’m more inspired and motivated than others. If I try writing when I don’t have the energy, it turns out forced and choppy. I let the motivation come to me.

18. What’s your revision or rewriting process like?

I typically like to wait a week or two before re-reading and editing, that way I can have space from my writing. I do it gradually through out the story so I can draw potential ideas from what I have so far. 

19. First line of a WIP you’re working on.

Version 1: “The shop had been empty for a little over an hour, and Charlotte was beginning to grow restless.”

Version 2: “Charlotte had a look of determination set in the furrow of her eyebrows and curiosity in the gleam of her eyes.”

20. Post a snippet of a WIP you’re working on.

“Whenever Jordyn spoke, it was reminiscent of watching an old southern film. Her slight, hidden drawl was nothing less than soothing. Charlotte sometimes liked to picture her with obnoxiously tight ringlet curls and big, poofy southern belle dresses with frilly ribbons and lace. The thought brought a subtle snort from Charlotte.”

21. Post the last sentence you wrote in one of your WIP’s.

Version 1: “He just followed his feet, and they lead him to her.”

Version 2: “His only response was a smirk before he opened the door to the back alley.”

22. How many drafts do you need until you’re satisfied and a project is ultimately done for you?

At least a million

23. Single or multi POV, and why?

Single, I feel like it leaves for more mystery. That way the reader can interpret different POV’s for themselves. 

24. Poetry or prose, and why?

Prose, rhyming isn’t my forte 

25. Linear or non-linear, and why?

Depends on the story I’m trying to tell. Sometimes one way has more impact than another. 

26. Standalone or series, and why?

Standalones are beautiful for some stories, but others simply must be more than just one book long. Some stories exceed one book.  

27. Do you share rough drafts or do you wait until it’s all polished? 

I share drafts with people I trust to edit or give me feedback. 

28. And who do you share them with?

My friends that love stories. 

29. Who do you write for?

Mainly for myself, but also for anybody that needs to hear the message my story can offer them. 

30. Favorite line you’ve ever written.

“So, as a sign of letting go, I introduced my lips to his cheek and the sound of my skin meeting his was a melody playing a sweet goodbye.”

“Kissing him was like kissing air or water, it was so sweet and slow that it was a natural instinct to flow with it. However, kissing her was like fire because it was warm, inviting, and compelling, but had all the potential to burn him. Their love was like melting into each other, neither would make it out alive.”

31. Hardest character to write.

Side characters or the main character’s family. Because those characters are always important and meaningful, but I don’t want to write them only as a means of helping the main character. I hate flat characters and everybody deserves to have a story, you know?

32. Easiest character to write.

The sidekick ™ 

The one who always knows just what to say and how to say it. 

33. Do you listen to music when you’re writing?

Only for specific scenes that music could really inspire me for. Like if I’m writing a sad scene and I’m not really in that head space, I listen to depressing ass music so I can understand the scene better. 

34. Handwritten notes or typed notes?

Both. Here, have some of my notes.

Just some random dialogue drabbles:

 “So, can I find you here often?” “Jamie…I work here.” “Oh, yeah, right. Of course.”

“There’s nothing beautiful nor poetic about being an asshole, Jenny. Calm down.”

“Listen, you’ll always be a jalapeno bagel and strawberry cream cheese to me, but I sort of feel like I should know your name by now.” 

“Emma, have you ever been in love?” “I might have been. Then again, girls are easy to love, I’m pretty sure Jamie is a different story. If you want my advice Charlotte, date a girl.” 

35. Tell some backstory details about one of your characters in your story ________.

The main character is named Charlotte Caroline Tillman. She’s named after the city and state(ish) that her parents met in. She has an older brother named Chance and a calico cat named Sally Mae. Charlotte goes to an Arts Magnet High School and she has a troubled history with her father, and a lot of the story is about her accepting things she cannot change. Her best friend, Emma, is v gay and v hot. 

36. A spoiler for story _________.

Charlotte ends up leaving town and everyone she loves. All that’s left behind is a note and a phone number. She leaves her life behind. No closure and no goodbyes. She’s kind of a dick. 

37. Most inspirational quote you’ve ever read or heard that’s still important to you.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Everybody has a story, and every one is worth being told.” 

38. Have you shared your outline of your story ________ with someone? If so, what did they think of it?

Lol no, my outline isn’t even finished homeboy

39. Do you base your characters of real people or not? If so, tell us about one.

I usually base my side characters off of people I know or have met, even if only for a brief moment. For example, today at work I saw somebody and instantly knew that I needed her in my story. She is now the inspiration for my character Jenny. 

40. Original Fiction or Fanfiction, and why?

Both are equally fun and important. Fanfiction is an amazing starting point for beginners, and it helps them write. However, original fiction is so raw and new that it could inspire future writers. 

41. How many stories do you work on at one time?

Typically just one, but I always have other stories in the back of my head. I like to focus on one at a time though, that way I can keep characters and plot points straight. 

42. How do you figure out your characters looks, personality, etc.

Well, like I’ve said, my characters come first. So based on whatever kind of story I want to tell, my character has to portray that. So I pick and choose different tropes and arc ideas that could impact the story even further. 

43. Are you an avid reader?

I heckin’ try to be. Sadly, I don’t always get into stories easily. 

44. Best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.

I had an English teacher write a note on one of my writing pieces telling me that she knew I had talent and every teacher has one student where they think “That one…that one’s gonna be the one who makes it” I was that student for her. Oh, and my composition professor had my class read some of our writing pieces, and he told the next semester’s class about my writing. The next time I had him in class, he handed me a form for a writing contest. 

45. Worst piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.

I honestly probably blocked it out. Idk, probably that I use too many commas? Or that one of my chapters was written in a passive voice. 

46. What would your story _______ look like as a tv show or movie? 

OH MAN! It would be great and I feel like a lot of the stories I write would be 100 times better on the big screen. 

47. Do you start with characters or plot when working on a new story?

Characters. 

48. Favorite genre to write in.

Contemporary or science fiction

49. What do you find the hardest to write in a story, the beginning, the middle or the end?

The middle

50. Weirdest story idea you’ve ever had.

A coven of teenage witches that were randomly selected to be given magic. Some of them became corrupt with power, and the others found good use for them. 

51. Describe the aesthetic of your story _______ in 5 sentences or words.

Self love, friendship, denial, heavy, heartbreaking 

52. How did writing change you?

It opened my mind to endless ideas and helped me grow. I often didn’t know what I was feeling until I wrote about it. 

53. What does writing mean to you?

It means creating a million versions of yourself and turning it into a lesson or inspiration for other. 

54. Any writing advice you want to share?

Don’t stop. There are so many things you have to tell the world, so tell them. 

[thecupcakeconsumer]

Seeing Red pt. 5 - Infection

A/N: Okay! This isn't exactly a full chapter with a discernable plot so much as it is a series of scenes, but I really liked the quite welcome change. Drabbles, I'd call it, but they're all about 500-750 words, so it's more like short shorts. All filled exactly one letter-size page in 12 pt. font, that's the only deciding factor, and they do go in order of appearance! 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 (You are here!)

Request: Technically this wasn't asked for. But it contains some thoughts that I discussed with @writers-block0o0​. I'm sad to see this end, but, of course, I've got tons more ideas to pursue with this reader! Anyone can request them, or anything Virals-related, in my message box, asks, comments, I really don't care how you reach me!

Navigation: Masterlist is here.

Taglist: @writers-block0o0​, @imaginesbyemma​, I tag by request for pairings/series/fandoms.

Summary: You may have lost what made you different, but it's resurfaced, and the impacts haven't been buried. In interacting with others in your life, you find relationships redefined, as you share those close to you a part of yourself.

Warnings: Puns, feels, and fluff. All of the segments are puntitled, and we also have (entirely safe) underage driving. I may have, for once in my life, managed to have this entirely clean!

Word Count: 3,131

Other Notes: Female reader. Post-Terminal, pre-Spike. (It goes Shock, Swipe, Spike, Shift, right? It's Shock, Shift, Swipe, Spike. I'll never get that order right).

Furtively Different

“So, that's... that's how it is?”

Shelton narrowed his eyes at you.

The last one of your closest friends you had told, and the look he was giving you was making you start to regret – if only in the slightest – not choosing to keep Tory or Ben or Hi with you for support.

Instead, you had loaded it onto him at lunch, and only now, standing in the hallway outside of your tech classroom, could he react.

You had waited until everything resolved itself to choose to potentially widen the gap between you and the pack – because you weren't sure that you could have faced this divided.

Not that it had made much of a difference. Your flaring abilities had been stripped, experiments conducted, and none of you were near the same... though your infection had started to resurface in the strangest of ways.

Your flare color and abilities hadn't gone away, they had simply... changed. And by that, you meant that the red you had once had danced around the color wheel to a dark blue while Tory and her boys' flaring took the form of light blue eyes and communication almost without borders.

Though you wouldn't really know much about the telepathy. Just as your eyes were darker than the pack's now, the same abilities had been used for a darker purpose, taking advantage of the strength and the individuals but never with any of the same links that seemed to bring together your best friends.

“Yeah, that's how it is now,” you finally answered, bringing yourself back to the moment.

He let out a low whistle. “Tell me, does your Trinity know how to count?”

That was what he was commenting on?

“Ella, Will and Cole were the voluntary members,” you explained. “Chance was the unofficial orchestrator that Will didn't really like to acknowledge, and then I was pretty much the bargaining chip between the two. He got control over them, they got control over me.”

“I know where he lives.”

“So do I,” you added apprehensively. “Wait, what are you saying?”

“Nothing,” responded Shelton a little too quickly. “Nothing, Y/N. I just can't believe I wasn't invited to your girls' night with your boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Awww, Shelousy, I'll sit through all your One Direction albums with you to make it up to you.”

“Do that and I might just forget that you called me Shelousy.”

“Deal!”

Unable to resist the urge, you threw your arms around his neck in a hug.

“This is new. Do we usually hug?”

Despite his words, Shelton's arms tightened around your waist, returning the sentiment.

“We do now. Suck it up.”

He laughed. “Or what? You'll sink your canines into me?”

“Are you really pulling a Hi?” you asked, pulling back to stare fixedly at him. “I would say you're doggone mad.”

The hallway's artificial light glinting off his glasses, Shelton shook his head. “You're barking up the wrong tree.”

“Damn. This is really ruff.”

“Not feeling it here? I can take you to LIRI. You'd fit right in with the labs.”

“Oh, please, I'll have you eating your words so fast you'll be wolfing them down.”

“Just stop,” bemoaned Jason, causing you to startle as you remembered that you weren't the only people in the hallway. “Please. For the good of everyone.”

In perfect unison, you and Shelton retorted, “Don't hound us about it,” before high-fiving.

“But, come to think of it, we really should stop.”

“Agreed.”

“Oh, thank God.”

Driving Me Crazy

Tap, tap, tap.

Dark eyes, the cobalt blue of a deep ocean, regarded idly the repeated motion against the desk.

Heightened hearing could not only hear the tapping, but its resonance through the dark wood.

Your new control over your flaring had taken some getting used to, but you had gradually become more accepting of it.

Curious, how though accepting its effects and giving into the flare, you had never quite consciously come to terms with the fact that you would be forever biologically changed by it.

You couldn't just go to the doctor and have bloodwork done, nor could you ever consider yourself entirely human.

Human, there's a thought. “What's the difference between human and humane?”

“Deep.”

The voice, recognizable immediately, was easy for you to place in the room, and you threw the pencil at Chance without even having to look back from your comfortable seat in the office chair.

He moved out of the way. Damn.

“Can we talk?”

SNUP

Grateful for being able to quell your flare instantly now, you spun around. “About what?”

“Anything.”

“Anything?” you repeated. “Grab the keys.”

Chance, confused, nonetheless walked forward as you herded him out of your room and down the stairs, obliging your request as you pulled on your shoes.

“Where do you want to-?” “Pass the keys.”

“You can't drive. It's not even legal, you don't have a permit.”

When you didn't respond, he crossed his arms over his chest, affixing you with a stern look, in as close to a show of responsibility over you as he had ever gotten.

“Are you asking me to teach you to drive?”

“No. I'm telling you that if you want to talk it'll be about the gear shift.”

Chance continued his staring for just a moment longer before nodding. “Let's go, then.”

For as long as you had known him, you had never seen Chance in the passenger seat of his own car – which served to you as a sign that he

“What's brought this on?” you asked with a side glance, accidentally putting on the wrong turn signal and quickly correcting the mistake. “You're breaking the law to hang out with me.”

“Not my first time breaking the law,” he commented under his breath. “You're my sister.”

You raised your eyebrows at the stop sign ahead of you. “Did you do a genetics test, or...?”

“If I'm responsible for a human life, it's useful for that human to actually communicate. I've made mistakes. Huge mistakes. You were kidnapped. Once by a psychopath, once by the government.”

“And…?”

“And that wouldn't have happened if I had listened to you for once. So I'm here. And I'm ready to talk to you about anything.”

“Anything?” The word was dangerous. It should have been outlawed years ago.

“Anything.”

“Have you ever had gay thoughts for Jason Taylor?”

The glimpse you managed of his expression was priceless. “The hell kind of question is that?”

“Unless,” you added with a wide grin, “you'd like to start this new relationship by lying to me-”

“I haven't had gay thoughts for Jason Taylor!” he sputtered, then paused. “More than once.”

“So you have had them!” Lifting your foot off the gas at a stoplight, you raised the roof triumphantly. “Called it.”

Frying My Nerves

“Eyes on the road, Y/N,” muttered Chance, but the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile.

“Y/N! Over here!” You looked up curiously, seeing Tory stand and wave at your lunch table.

Approaching, you realized she was the only one there. “Where are-?”

“Oh, they're around. Somewhere. I just wanted to make sure you saw me.” She smiled.

“Tory. We always sit here, and in case you hadn't noticed, there's not that many redheads in this school,” you teased, but nonetheless sat down. “How's it going with you and Ben?”

Sighing, Tory asked, “Since when are you into girl talk?”

“No, we're talking about your boy, silly. Duh.” Leaning forward on your hands, you gave her your attention. “Tell me, does that darkness and mystery about him lend passion to your relationship?”

Her smile twisted downward into an oh, really? look. “Yeah, you're insufferable.”

“You didn't answer the question, unless – wait, you said yeah, was that my answer?”

The other girl didn't answer, only waggled her eyebrows. “It's… a little tense, but also intense.”

“Tense as in…?” you prompted.

“As in I literally made out with your-”

You covered your ears. “Ew, ew, ew! Disgusting! No more boy talk. Ever again. You ruined it.”

“No, we can still do boy talk. With the alarmingly small number of tolerable girls in this school,  I need to keep my options open.” Tory grinned nonetheless at your reaction. “He's not bad.”

“Who's not bad? And at what?” you asked, tilting your head to the side.

“They're both not bad at kissing.”

Groaning, you grit out, “Stop, stop, those are my brothers.”

“Brothers?” she repeated, copying your motion of tilting her head.

“Brothers. Friends. Same difference,” you scoffed, but you wouldn't take it back any time soon.

“It's just… weird.” Tory stole a fry off of your tray, waving it in the air as she spoke. “Ben and I. Normal boyfriends, you'd introduce them to your parents and then your dad would give them the whole what-are-your-intentions-with-my-daughter speech and you'd be super embarrassed. But he and Kit already know each other.” She put the fry in her mouth, brow furrowing. “We haven't really gone on any real dates, either. What did you and Hi do?”

“Well, Hi's never met my parents, if that's what you're asking,” you started, “and Chance doesn't really count, now, does he? They'd hate each other regardless of whether I was involved.”

“That's not what I meant. I meant, what did the two of you do for your first date?”

“I don't remember when it stopped being considered the two of us hanging out and started being dating,” you replied with a shrug. “He asked me to be his girlfriend in front of the Pineapple Fountain, I remember, and I almost shoved him in I was so surprised. I guess that would've been our first date.”

“Wait, he asked you to be his girlfriend there?” Tory snickered.

“What, you never knew? After that he started singing, 'Who's in front of a pineapple beside the sea? Hi's new girl-friend' and I broke up with him for all of five minutes.”

She stole another fry from the tray you hadn't touched. “So when Hi says he's been in more than one relationship with a beautiful girl more than once he's not lying?”

“I don't know. He might just be talking about his mother,” you mused in response with a laugh.

Tory's expression shifted. “You know, I think you're really strong and resilient and loyal.”

“What do you want?” you asked suspiciously.

“It just came to mind, with all that happened. And I'm glad you're willing to talk about it.”

Even so, you knew that part of the reason she forgave you so readily is because after what Ben had done to earn her affection, the grudge that Tory had held impacted her pack and her relationship.

She wouldn't let misunderstanding stand between her and the ones she loved again.

“Sure, sure, just make sure you call my cell and not the house phone next time you need me.”

“That was one time!” Her freckles were obscured by her furious blush.

“Yes, but the fact that you knew I was home and didn't consider Chance and started gushing about how I think I might have a problem, it's heavier than usual, it's painful and-”

“Shut up, shut up!”

Assailance at Sea

“Are you sure?”

Ben crossed his arms over his chest, raising both eyebrows. “Are you saying that I should leave you here on this beach alone, to whatever elements of nature, and your likely death?”

“Yes.” You laid in the sand, sprawling dramatically. “Leave me here. Let me die alone.”

“Get up, Y/N.” Stoic expression still in place, his voice betrayed his amusement.

“I won't burden you. I will become one with the sand. When you come back there will be naught to suggest my existence. You will walk on this beach and think of me, and wonder why.”

“I see why Hi and you mesh well together,” he commented, forcibly yanking you to your feet and onto Sewee. “I also see why he'll kill me if I let you die on this beach.”

“Awww, good to know, you're doing this for your own life and not mine.”

Ben's lips thinned. “That, and the fact that I want to talk to you.”

“Oh?” Your eyebrows arched, intrigued. “Recently everyone does. I should start charging.”

“Listen, I… you know Tory pretty well, right?”

“You want to talk about Tory? Really? First time alone with you in ages and you want to talk about your girlfriend? Honestly, you two are boring. Were Hi and I really this bad? Is this karma?”

“Yes,” he responded immediately, then adding, “Us two?”

“I will betray nothing of our private correspondences.”

“What if I offer you dirt on Hi?”

You didn't stop to contemplate for long. “She totally wants you to take her on a date.”

“He's thinking of asking you and Chance to dinner at his place with his parents.”

“No,” you breathed, eyes widening. “How do I know you're not lying?”

He shot you a blank stare. “Do you want to see the messages? “

“Wait, you have messages?” Lighting up, you proposed, “If you show me the messages I'll help you plan a date for Tory tonight on IM. Deal?”

“I'm betraying the integrity of the group chat in doing this,” he droned.

“Please. Like you care about the integrity of the group chat.”

“You know me so well.”

Ben passed his phone to you, and you lit up. “Wow. This is intense. So many messages.”

You frowned. “He really freaked out about this and proposed a role play while no one was on and then started acting as me, Chance, Linus and Ruth all by himself?”

“You know your drama queen.” He glanced over. “Wait, stop scrolling up!”

“You enabled me. You did this. This is international waters. I am bound by no law.”

“It's my boat. You're bound by the law of my fist.”

“Oh, Ben, you know exactly what to say to please a woman.”

Pretending to continue to scroll through the messages even as you had turned off the screen, you smiled to yourself, glad that the two of you were back to the way you always were.

You weren't sharing that much – Ben never had.

He was the closer-to-your-age and less frigid brother Chance wasn't, even if the story would probably be far different if the two of you lived in the same house and he had to drive you everywhere.

Still, he was like family.

“He's got characterization on point. Y/N: Wow, Mrs Stolowitski, these muffins are delicious. Hi: That's not the only delicious thing she's made. Chance: There's only so many things on this table.”

“None of us could read that. It was too painful.”

“It's like fanfiction. Can you imagine people making fanfiction about you?”

“You know Tumblr. It's a cesspool.”

“Morris Island is a cesspool. You're all criminals. Every one of you has committed a felony.”

“I guess we are.” Thinking you weren't looking, Ben broke out a grin. “Some of us steal hearts.”

“Benjamin Blue! You've been spending far too much time with Hi.”

“Any time is far too much time with that clown.”

Walking It Out

“Hey, sexy!”

You froze, hand at your side curling into a fist at the words, a voice you couldn't quite place.

“My beautiful babushka!”

Oh. It was only Hi. “You know that means grandma, don't you?”

Falling into step beside you, your boyfriend shrugged. “Doesn't matter. You'd make a beautiful grandma just like you make a beautiful girlfriend.”

“Oh, stop it.”

“You're blushing. I win!”

“I'm not blushing.” You rolled your eyes. “What's up? Did you just miss your ride home?”

“Worth it for you, but for the record, yes. Yes, I did. However, I have an excuse, and you're going to need to keep going straight here.”

“My house is to the right, though.” Tilting your head to the side, you chanced, “Are you high?”

“Yes, I am Hi, as a matter of fact. And you? Divine.” He grinned, a spring to his step as he half-tugged, half-dragged you in the wrong direction.

“I have a bag. I hope you aren't planning on taking me somewhere where they'll think I'm shoplifting. Or particularly far.”

Hi grabbed the bag off your shoulder. “Solved. Now I have you for as long as I want, right?”

“I finally convinced Chance to cook dinner, so you until my likely death by food poisoning.”

“When's he home?”

“Eight o'clock.”

“Plenty of time, plenty of time!” Your boyfriend smiled wider, if possible. “And I have your bag so you can't run away if you want to get your homework done.”

“Blackmail. Such lowliness you stoop to to get my attention.”

“Your attention is a sweet bliss as I do not deserve.” He grinned. “Guess where we're going?”

“There are so many places in downtown Charleston, I at least need a hint.”

“We've been there before.”

“Yeah, because that narrows down the options,” you drawled sarcastically, but soon processed your destination when one of two distinct fountains came into focus. “We're going to Waterfront Park?”

Hi applauded with a laugh. “You are indeed the genius that I gladly asked to be my girlfriend here. Yeah, we're going to Waterfront Park. You've been...” he drum-rolled on his thighs, “dated!”

“Tell me something I don't know.”

“You don't know that you're the most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on,” he replied.

Hi. Ever the charmer.

“Nor do you know that here – in the same park as the Pineapple Fountain, the Charleston symbol for hospitality and the accommodation of our small corner of the country, that which is south of the icy north's frigid and unwelcoming igloos and-”

“You're gushing because you're nervous about what you want to ask me, and you want specifically to ask me if I'll bring Chance – or, rather, he'll bring me – to your house to have dinner with your family because you feel our relationship has progressed enough that you would like me to meet your family, formally, as your long-term girlfriend and love.”

Now at a halt, it took several moments for Hi to regain control of his jaw to close his mouth.

When he finally managed to do so, his first words were, “What. The. Hell.”

Well, sorry, Ben, though it didn't seem that his first instinct was to blame one of the other boys.

“You're smarter than I thought. I mean, not that I didn't think you were smart. I thought you were smart – not smarter than Tory, I mean, I did but don't tell her that, and I guess you two are smart in different ways and-” He stopped, reaching a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “So, yes?”

“Yes, I'll have dinner with your family.” Smiling demurely, you added, “If Chance agrees.”

“I'll take my chances.”

He scrambled to find his footing as you attempted to push him into the fountain. “Assault!”

A/N: That’s done! I’m glad and sad at the same time. I’m working on something else for this world, and damn, I’ll get to work on a masterlist soon because this is most definitely getting intense. Thanks for reading!

[onceuponamirror]

the winged beast [6/12]

Fandom: Riverdale

Ships: Betty x Jughead, Archie x Veronica (background)

Chapters: 6/12

Summary:

This is how the world ends, she thinks. Not with a bang but with a motorcycle.

[serpent!au] [read on Ao3 from the beginning] [2] [3] [4] [5] [character design]

Betty, at least, was able to rule out Jason on Saturday morning, when she, without much delicacy, had asked Polly if she’d heard from Jason. Polly said she had; apparently he’d been drunk texting her all night and by breakfast, he’d sent an equal amount of flustered apologies. Her sister had said this all with pursed lips, and Betty filed away the reaction for later.

It’d been a huge relief; if it wasn’t Jason, it wasn’t her fault. Still, it was a reassurance she felt at odds with, given that just because Jason was okay, didn’t mean someone else was.

But she doesn’t have to wait long to find out; the news breaks on Saturday night.

When no one had heard from Moose Mason for 24 hours, Reggie Mantle had apparently confirmed it with the football team; he himself had tried resuscitating Moose until the paramedics arrived. Betty found out through Kevin, who already knew, but waited until it was publicly on twitter that Moose had been hurt before passing the news.

“I mean, I saw him like half an hour before,” Kevin says on the phone that night, his voice shaky. “I think he might’ve been trying to get me to have a threesome? Like? He was being so weird and out of it. I should’ve known something was up. I was so shocked that I just walked away but what if that was the last…” Kevin sucks in a gulp of air and trails off.

“It’s definitely not your fault, Kev,” Betty says softly, though she thinks about how stressed she’d been about Jason a few hours before and knows words probably mean nothing to Kevin right now. “There was no way you could’ve known.”

“Speaking of…none of us are supposed to know about this, by the way,” he adds, after a minute. His voice is stiff, and Betty can tell he’s probably still beating himself up. “My dad wants to wait for an official press conference. But he told me this morning. It’s…really bad, Betty.”

“Bad how?” Betty rolls over on her bed to grab her diary. She feels a sting of guilt with herself for jumping into journalist mode, but decides the truth is more important than tact. She raises her pencil to the paper.

Kevin pauses, choosing his words. When he speaks, his voice is very small. “He died, Betty. On the way to the hospital.”

She feels all the air leave her lungs and drops her pencil. “He…what? Died? I thought he was just…sick, or something. What happened? How?”

“My dad wouldn’t tell me, but I don’t think it was…uh, natural causes,” Kevin says. “Crap, I hear him coming. I gotta go, Betty. I’ll see you Monday. And don’t tell anyone,” he adds, and then the line is dead.

He died. Kevin’s words echo, almost mockingly. Moose Mason? Dead? It wasn’t as if she knew Moose particularly well, but she’s also known him her entire life. His entire life, she thinks with a sickening crunch to her stomach.

Betty closes her eyes and tries to retrace the moments at the base of the stairs. Joaquin running down the hall, someone yelling that Moose wasn’t breathing, Veronica and Archie arriving, the paramedics upstairs and shouting symptoms…they’d said something, a word she’d heard before. Some kind of medical term, maybe?

She exhales slowly, and when it finally feels like her lungs have nothing left in them, she blinks up at the ceiling. It doesn’t seem real. She saw him in class yesterday; she’d helped him spell the word scholastic. She feels sick; it’s one thing to abstractly investigate accidents and deaths on the other side of town, and it’s another to know someone taken by it.

Nibbling on her lip, she reaches over for her phone. She pulls Jughead up in her contacts and stares at the last conversation they’d had on Friday before the party.

Alright, I just watched 10 Things I Hate About You. It was so predictable!

That means you liked it :)

Does not

You like predictable

Can we keep the psychoanalysis off the table for once thank you very much

But then, a few minutes later, he’d sent:

I guess I see the appeal though

Betty stares at the exchange. Jughead does like predictability, despite whatever devil-may-care image he’s spent however long finely crafting. He may claim to be a cinema buff and a lover of creative integrity, but almost all of his favorite films have the exact same plot trajectory:

Character enters the mystery, then a reluctant partnership, a death or two halfway through to raise the stakes, followed by a big twist, followed by an ending that is somehow as satisfying as it is bittersweet.

She blinks back to the ceiling. If her life were a film, would last night have been the twist, or was the arc so obvious it couldn’t have been? Was this all foreshadowed by her obsession with finding the truth about the south side? Was this the moment that raised the stakes?

Or was a boy just dead?

The thought brings her soundly back into the moment. Her fingers hover over the keyboard of her phone, reading and rereading Jughead’s last text.

What she really wants to say is Hey, so what the fuck but that feels both too heavy and too joking somehow. Plus she’s not sure he’s ever heard her swear in the first place and the shock alone might distract him from the fact that she’s being serious.

But what would she say? Ask him what the hell Joaquin was doing fleeing the scene of what ended up being a death? That would feel accusatory and she doesn’t want to indict Jughead or even Joaquin of anything. After all Jughead opened up about people from the south side being stereotyped, and she just drops the blame on him or his friends without waiting for the full story?

No, she won’t insult Jughead by insinuating that.

So she settles on I have your leather jacket. She’s never seen him without it; she likes to imagine he has a closet full of them, like some cartoon character with only one outfit, but given the well-loved scuffing on this one, she doubts it. Anyway, she figures it’ll be easier to talk about this in person than try to navigate via text.

Do you want me to bring it to you? Meet at Pop’s?

About an hour later, and she still hadn’t gotten a response.

Or I’ll just bring it to school on Monday, whatever’s easiest.

Still nothing, and reluctantly Betty puts her phone aside to get ready for bed. Is he mad at her? Did she do something wrong? After her panic attack in the bushes of the Mantle mansion, the rest of the night had continued in such a haze that she barely remembers driving everyone home, but she tries to rack her brain for something she might’ve said to Jughead to upset him.

He’d tried to tell her something and she had shut him down, expecting it’d been the long-time-coming talk about boundaries and feelings. But Jughead doesn't seem like a guy who enjoys confrontation, and Betty would think he’d be relieved at dodging the “I have a girlfriend” talk.

Betty wonders if she should just be direct and ask him point blank if he knows anything. She remembers the terror on Joaquin’s face and Sabrina cursing madly down the stairs, but Jughead had seemed just as confused as she had been.

So why was he ignoring her?

She gets under the covers and pulls them tight up against her chin. There’s murmuring downstairs and the creak of her parents moving around, and Betty stares at the stick-on-stars on her ceiling and remembers tracing the constellations in the stars outside the party. She’d felt so happy then, if just for a fleeting moment.

She closes her eyes and thinks about Moose Mason.

.

.

.

Sunday drags on with glacial pace; this means two things. One, that no one else yet knows that Moose Mason, lovable high school linebacker, everyone’s All-American buddy, is dead.

Two, that her mother doesn’t know.

Part of her appreciates the day as the quiet before the storm, because once word reaches her classmates and especially once it reaches her mother and the town paper, it’s going to be hell. The north side of Riverdale has thus far happily kept horse-blinders on, but to lose one of their own is surely going to break the dam, especially if Moose didn't die naturally. 

Naloxone.

She sits upright in bed. The word comes to her in a flash, in a blinding memory of chaos and screams. “He’s hypoxic! Pupils dilated! Ready the naloxone!” The paramedic shouted, and Betty blinks. She hasn’t heard that word before, she’s read it.

She picks up her laptop and types it into the search bar. Naloxone, she reads, is the drug administered to people who have overdosed; it’s especially useful for those who OD on fentanyl because it’s so easy to over do.

Moose overdosed, she thinks, her mouth falling open. She clam shells her laptop shut and lets out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. On fentanyl? Moose Mason?

Fentanyl is not a drug typically found at the keggers of rich kids; it’s rough, and gritty. Cocaine, she could see. Prescription drugs, definitely. But her research has taught her fentanyl is typically cut into heroin, if anything, and that gives Betty pause, but she's not sure if it's her own unconscious prejudice about what an overdose should “look like” or if is this genuinely suspicious. 

She picks up her pencil and diary, her thoughts swirling. But after about ten minutes, Betty realizes she has just been staring at a blank page the whole time, and decides she’s not going to get anywhere with writing out her thoughts today, so she puts it aside and crawls over to her window perch.

Archie is sitting in his chair at his own window, spinning left and right as he juggles a worn-looking football between his hands. He looks up when Betty settles into her own seat, and moves to open his window. She does the same.

“How are you doing?” He asks, settling on his elbows.

With a pang of guilt, Betty realizes she’s been kind of neglectful of her friendship with Archie lately in lieu of time with the newspaper and, if she’s being honest with herself, with Jughead. But Archie has been equally busy with football and music and neither of them have made much of an effort lately. Betty makes a mental note to set aside some time for him.

“I’m okay,” Betty lies, forcing a light smile. “Thinking about Friday night though.”

“Me too,” Archie says, looking forlorn. “I keep trying to go through the people I saw at the party and the last time I saw them.” He pauses. “Who do you think it was?”

Betty bites her lip. Kevin had told her not to say anything and given the radio silence from Veronica too, she assumes he hasn’t told anyone but her. And she loves Archie, and while he’s decent at keeping secrets on his own, the minute someone presses him on it, he caves. He can’t lie to save his skin and telling him is too risky.

“I don’t know,” she says quietly, deciding not to pass the buck, “but I have a really bad feeling about this, Archie. Like it’s only going to get worse.”

Archie nods. “I feel it too. But I don’t…I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just…this weird heaviness, like it’s in the air or something. Does that make sense?”

It makes more sense than Archie probably realizes. Betty tucks her chin down and nods, glancing across the room to her wardrobe, where Jughead’s jacket is currently hidden, tucked away like some dark, living, breathing secret. She exhales, long and slow, and meets Archie’s gaze one last time. 

These violent delights have violent ends, she thinks.

.

.

.

Betty wakes earlier than normal on Monday morning; truthfully, her sleep was fitful and tossing, so it’s not too difficult to roll out of bed at 5 A.M. and dress for an early run. She slips out of the house and heads out into a jog around the block. She’s exhausted, but her heart hasn’t stopped hammering since Friday, and the anxiety masquerading as adrenaline pushes her steps into long, lean strides.

She pounds into the cement, hoping to chase a burn that will soothe her churning thoughts, but after about 40 minutes, she realizes she can’t literally outrun her feelings, and she heads back home.

Her mother is bustling about in the kitchen when she returns. Alice looks up when she hears Betty approaching. “You’re up early,” she says, in the pleased voice she always uses when she’s impressed with Betty pushing herself. “Get a good run in?”

“Yeah,” Betty says, still breathing heavily. “I’m gonna go shower.”

Her mother nods and returns to her morning mantra of preparing pancakes and coffee. Betty watches her mother work for a moment, almost robotically, like some kind of pre-Feminine Mystique housewife going through the motions.

As she's heading up the stairs, Betty hears the phone ring, followed by her mother answering it quietly. It's a little early for a phone call, Betty thinks, but dismisses it once she's out of earshot. 

After her shower, Betty forgoes breakfast and heads straight to school; she wants to get there early, before anyone else, to get some work done on the paper, because she has a feeling that the day is going to be nothing short of a tempest once school starts. The police won’t be able to contain this secret much longer.

When she arrives at the Blue & Gold, she checks her phone again, but there’s still nothing from Jughead. Sighing, she hangs his leather jacket on the coat rack. It’d barely fit in her backpack this morning, and practically weighed as much as her old cat, but there was no way she was gonna let her mother see her sneaking out the door with a big black leather jacket in hand.

Betty sighs and settles down in front of her laptop. She doesn’t really know what she’s looking for, and technically this is just her own theory, but something still feels very suspicious about the combination of an all-star football player and a dangerous drug like fentanyl. She spends the next hour or two reading up about rise in overdoses across the country—there apparently is no shortage of small town horror stories much like their own.

Riverdale isn’t special, she realizes, and then feels naïve for not looking at this as indicative of a larger, national problem. Still, there's not much that reassures her about the conflicting depictions of fentanyl use and the image of Moose Mason. 

After she’s read so many articles that her eyes start to cross, she slams her laptop shut and puts her forehead in her hands. She hears people mulling about outside the room; students have started arriving like a gathering flock of scavenging birds, circling ominously over a wounded animal.

Betty sighs, and decides to use the remaining minutes before the first bell to get a few things out of her locker. When she returns, there’s someone standing in front of the corkboard, and she has a brief moment of relief where she thinks it might be Jughead.

It’s not.

Agent Drew looks over his shoulder at her, his face serious, before glancing once more to the wall of clippings and index cards with theories. His eyes linger on the center card for FENTANYL.

He traces his eyes around the room, moving slowly, and reaches the collection of Nancy Drew novels stacked on a shelf. He runs his fingers over them contemplatively.

“You like Nancy Drew?” He asks with a small smile. Betty returns it awkwardly and nods, her mind still playing catch up with the fact that there’s an FBI agent in her newspaper office. “Me too. I always used to get teased for reading the Nancy books instead of the Hardy Boys, but, well, I liked her best.”

“Because of your last name?” Betty asks, without really thinking first.

“Sort of the other way around,” he says evasively, clearing his throat and straightening. “Anyway. Miss Cooper, when we last spoke, you mentioned a few things I would like to follow up on. Would you mind answering a few more questions for me? We don’t have to go to the station; we can do this right here.”

The first bell tolls between them, but neither move.

“I know my rights, sir,” she says, raising her chin in the air, in an act that looks more defiant than she feels. “You can’t question me without a parent.”

He smiles, and runs a smoothing hand over his already crisp suit jacket. In the warm yellow light of the Blue & Gold office, Agent Drew looks a lot younger and friendlier than he had on Friday night. “Miss Cooper—may I call you Elizabeth?”

“I go by Betty,” she says, in a shaky exhale.

“Betty, then. You’re not under arrest, or even in any trouble. This isn’t a custodial setting and we can stop at any time. If there were charges being laid, of course we would have a parent or a guardian present, but I just have a few qualifying questions.”

She shifts from one foot to another. He looks at her, eyebrows creasing. “Gauging from the generous collection of mystery novels and the set up on that corkboard, I get the sense that you’re someone looking for the truth. Well, I am too. That’s why I’m here.”

She considers him. She thinks about what Jughead would say if he were here; probably warn her about not trusting authority figures or something with a casual conspiracy theory about capitalist police states.

But Jughead isn’t here, and has been ignoring her for days now. Why should she care what he’d say? She stares at the coat rack where she’d hung his leather jacket this morning, thinking he’d want it back today.

“If you would like anyone here with you, you are more than welcome to it, and I’ll happily wait,” he adds, with a small smile.

“No, it’s okay,” she says hesitantly. Despite a growing wariness of law enforcement ever since Jughead entered her life, there is something trustworthy about Agent Drew. He doesn’t seem any less business-like, but in the light of day, he has almost a paternal air to him, despite the fact that he can’t be more than in his late 20s.

Agent Drew crosses the room to the door, which he closes gently. Betty takes her usual seat, and he slips into the one across from her; the place where Jughead usually sits. She’d been upset that he’d skipped school again today, but now she’s desperately hoping he doesn’t change his mind and stays away.

He hauls a heavy-looking briefcase onto the desk, and begins sorting through it. He pulls out a manila folder and that familiar little black notebook, and aligns them together so that they’re perfectly straight and parallel.

He opens up the folder and clears his throat. “As this information will be released to the public shortly, if not already, I should tell you that Mr. Marmaduke Mason, otherwise known as Moose, passed away in the early hours of Saturday morning.”

He glances up at Betty, watching her carefully for her reaction, so Betty feigns shock, her mouth falling open. She’s not sure she convinces him, because he narrows his eyes before moving on.

“This morning I received the toxicology report from the autopsy of Mr. Mason,” he says, and Betty feels a shiver at the word autopsy. “And, along with a few other things, there was a fair amount of the opioid known as fentanyl in his system. Now that I’m seeing your…er, corkboard, I’m wondering if you have anything you’d like to share with me in that regard. What made you suspect the overdoses on the south side were linked to fentanyl? As far as I know, that wasn’t published anywhere.”

“My friend Jughead suggested it,” Betty says cautiously. “He works with me on the school paper.”

“Ah,” Agent Drew sighs, opening up his little notebook and flipping through it. “Right, right. Mr. Jones. I ran the names that you gave me, and unfortunately, it poses a bit of a dilemma.”

Betty bristles. He reaches back into his briefcase and withdraws an identical envelope. He scans his eyes over the papers briefly and begins to read.

“Joaquin DeSantos, the one who you said placed the first 911 call, has been arrested on multiple accounts of vandalism over the years. Sabrina Spellman has been in so many fights it’s amazing she’s still upright. And your friend Jughead Jones was once held in juvenile court for trying to burn down his elementary school.”

He puts the folder down and crosses his arms over it. “All three are known Southside Serpents. I’m afraid that doesn’t bode well, given I’ve learned they fled the scene shortly after Mr. Mason was found and that Mr. DeSantos was seen leaning over Mr. Mason by a witness.”

He looks up at Betty, and she’s surprised to see he looks more resigned than anything.

Known Serpent, she thinks. All three are known Southside Serpents, she hears Agent Drew’s voice echoing. Trying to burn down his elementary school.

That couldn’t be right. Why hadn’t Jughead told her? How could he have kept that from her? Did he think she’d care? Judge him?

She feels hurt—beyond hurt, maybe—but she doesn't have time to unpack that. She tries to keep her attention on Agent Drew. Her nails breach the skin of her palms in an attempt at focusing.

“That might all be true, sir, but I don’t think it’s them or the Serpents who are selling the fentanyl. I think they’ve been getting targeted for refusing to. There have been a lot of motorcycle accidents and people being run off the road, and bricks going through windows, and—”

“Betty, please,” Agent Drew says calmly. “I’m not accusing the Southside Serpents of anything. To be frank with you, I know that the local police department here would very much like it to be that simple. It’d be a neat little bow to tie everything together and would get the mayor’s office off their backs. I’m a bit of an unpopular guy right now for suggesting otherwise, but I agree with you in that there seems to be a pattern here.”

He sighs, and busies himself with readjusting his files. “But I’ve gotten very off topic. Betty, the reason I actually wanted to speak with you today is because of your friend Veronica Lodge.”

Betty blinks. She pauses, not sure she’s heard him right. “What?”

“Betty, are you aware that Veronica’s father is currently awaiting trial in a federal penitentiary?” He asks, pen poised over the notebook once more.

“I mean…yeah, but for like, tax evasion, right? It’s not like he was arrested for murder.”

Agent Drew smiles, but it’s more of a grimace than anything. “That would be Al Capone. Though that’s not too far off base,” he adds, more to himself. He immediately looks frustrated with himself, and sighs, straightening. “Betty, has Veronica ever mentioned anything about her father to you?”

It’s one thing to help Agent Drew with the investigation into Moose’s death, and it’s another to start pointing fingers at her friends. She opens her mouth to tell him just that, but doesn’t get a chance to, because the door flies open with such a force that both of them jump in their seats.

“Elizabeth, stop talking,” someone says, and Betty looks up to see her mother storming across the room. She throws her purse down on a desk, her face red with rage. “Who the hell do you think you are, questioning my daughter without a parent or a lawyer in the room?”

“Mom, what the hell?”

Agent Drew bolts upright from his chair. “Ma’am, please, I just had a few questions for your daughter regarding my investigation. It’s perfectly within legal realms. I assure you she is in no trouble; I informed her that she had the option of awaiting guardianship—”

“I’d like to see some credentials,” Alice snaps. “And get your name, so that I can report it to your supervisor immediately.”

“Of course,” Agent Drew says, and quickly retrieves his identification badge. “Special Agent Charles Drew with the FBI.”

Alice stares at Agent Drew for a long, hard moment, her expression odd and pinched.

“Mom, how did you even know he was here?” Betty asks, and it’s as if a spell was broken. Alice inhales and turns to her daughter.

“I happened to have a meeting with Principal Weatherbee today regarding Homecoming. He mentioned to me that the FBI were on the grounds conducting interviews and, well, I saw you two through the door window.”

Betty knows her mother well enough to read between the lines; that means her mother pressed Weatherbee into a corner for information and then she immediately went stalking off for a scoop.

Alice turns to Agent Drew with appraising eyes. “What exactly is the nature of your investigation?”

“I’m sorry Mrs. Cooper, I’m afraid I can’t speak to the details of an ongoing case, however, beyond the fact that I’m now the primary investigator into Mr. Mason’s death this weekend.”

The revelation that a student died doesn't seem to shock Alice particularly, which means she must've learned about it this morning.

Betty looks at her. Her mother seems stuck between a rock and a hard place, perhaps warring with her instinct to needle for information and her desire to shelter her daughter from it. “And just how long has the FBI been involved here?” She asks, squinting at him.

“Details of the case will be made public after it’s closed, or until otherwise seen fit,” Agent Drew says, almost robotically. “Mrs. Cooper, I’ve done my research into this town, and I am aware that you and your husband run the town’s local newspaper, so unfortunately, you’ll have to wait for an official press conference to get your questions in.”

His lips twitch, just barely, and Betty realizes that actually might’ve been a joke.

“Fine,” Alice sniffs. “Now, if you have any more questions for my daughter, you can contact our lawyer. You’re done here.”

Agent Drew doesn’t seem particularly surprised that this is the conclusion of a helicopter parent storming into his interview. He gives her one last studying look before packing up his briefcase. “I’ll be in touch,” he says, and slips away.

Alice turns her eyes on Betty. “What was he asking you about?” She asks sharply. “I heard him mention Veronica Lodge’s name. I told you what I think of that girl. She’s not your friend.”

“Stop it!” Betty shouts. “You don’t even know her! Why are you so obsessed with this…witch-hunt with her and her family, when you should be talking about what’s really going on in this town?”

Alice crosses her arms and looks over at the corkboard. “What’s really going on in this town? You mean your flirtation with the high school newspaper? Elizabeth, please. Those gangbangers don’t care about you or any of us; why would you care about them? They made their bed and they’ll sleep in it as far as I’m concerned.”

Betty stares at her mother with horror. “Why are you like this?” She asks after a moment. “I mean, god Mom, what did they ever do to you?”

Alice just presses her lips together and looks back at the corkboard, her eyebrows creasing.

“People like you treat them like second-class citizens but they’re just as much part of Riverdale as we are. Just because they don’t fit into your Stepford fantasy doesn’t mean they aren’t,” Betty says, raising her chin into the air.

Her mother scoffs, though she looks noticeably ruffled. “Betty, this is hardly so Shakespearean. We’re not Capulets and Montagues. I’m perfectly sure there are some good people on the south side, but the fact of the matter is, I can say with certainty that a lot of them are gangbanging drug dealers. You of all people should know that by now, after what happened on Friday night, but you’ll see tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Betty repeats. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

“Your father and I are running a story about this boy’s death and the little Serpent that was seen standing over his body,” Alice says, staring out the window. She glances back at Betty sharply. “Or is that not what happened?”

“That—that’s you twisting it!” Betty sputters. “We don’t have all the facts, we have no idea what happened or how Moose got the drugs. You know, Jughead said—”

“Jug-head? Who is Jug-head?”

Betty realizes her mistake immediately. “He’s…he works with me on the school paper.”

“What an unusual name,” her mother muses suspiciously. “Hard to think there’s more than one Jughead in this town. Would he be the same Jughead Jones of south-side-proper that Reggie Mantle listed as being at the party?”

“He had nothing to do with what happened to Moose,” Betty says quickly. “He was with me all night.”

Alice hums; she has the same expression that Betty makes when she’s filing something away for later. Then she sighs, her whole posture deflating a little.

“Betty, you do remember that Reggie Mantle’s father owns half the share of the Register, correct? And then there’s party thrown by his son, apparently unbeknownst to them, and it ends in a boy’s death. Needless to say, it doesn’t look good for an upstanding family to have an overdose under their roof.”

“But...”

“Do you realize the kind of pressure Mr. Mantle is putting on us to write about the culprits who dealt the drugs or brought them onto his property?” Alice snaps, looking suddenly very tired. 

“But that doesn’t mean you should just start scapegoating the easiest target—”

Her mother turns to her, arms crossed. Her icy resolve seems to be melting a bit as she straightens.

“Betty, you wanted us to start talking about overdoses and drugs, and now we are. You wanted us to talk about the south side, and now we are. You don’t always get what you want the way you want it,” she says, and Betty is surprised to find the softness there, nestled in between a thoughtful frown.

Alice turns her attention back to the window. She almost looks sad now. “There are things I never wanted for you, honey, but I had to learn my lesson about Pandora’s box the hard way. And it seems you do too.”

.

.

.

[gray-anxiety]

No Sympathy Facts/ the chaos of my brain

I kept forgetting the damn name

Legit

Like “No… no wHAT????? Oh”

Aella is a name associated with storms and wind, so I gave her that name because I wanted someone who really did embody that

I kept wanting to spell Aella’s name allen smh

This book started when i finally got off my ass and convinced myself to do a mafia au. The entire plot was pulled out of my ass in a period of brainstorming that kept me up until 5:30 the next morning

I actually sketched out the apartment’s layout so I could see it better.

later I actually designed a messy version of what it’d somewhat be like in the sims

Karanese is actually a district in the Attack on Titan universe :)

Each chapter takes me like 2 hours to write simply because I play out each and every ending in my head and choose the best one I’d want to see in a story

Other times I legit just have a feeling like I absolutely know how a chapter plays out like Chapter 3’s murder fight scene. It just came to me and all I had to do was describe it like I had just watched a movie

Chapter one took a total of seven hours to write

The plot twists were created when I asked myself what cliche can I change?

(Except I kept a few just to make fun of it I.E. roommates and badboy x nerdy character because that shit is hilarious and can really show the dynamic of how different each character really is)

Chapter two bore me to death to be honest

An actual example of my brainstorming while writing down facts:

I have no idea what the fuck to do after chapter 3 help

I pretty much said fuck it to planning out a plot and just wung it

Where am I gonna place Hange and the others

What about Eren lol

OH SHIT I JUST HAD THE IDEA THAT HANGE AND AELLA WERE FRIENDS BEFORE AELLA WAS KICKED OUT AOUFHALIUEHFALIUEHF

THEY’D TOTALLY BE LESBIANS FOR EACH OTHER

How’d you come up with the name for No Sympathy?

hilarious answer, actually. I spent two damn hours laying on my bed googling “what’s your mafia nickname” to just messing around with broken languages on google translate until it just popped in my head. Pretty much I was like “oh shit that sounds lit and fearsome lets do it bois” and yeah

I’m actually making this list of fun facts while writing each chapter. I’m going to start working on chapter 4 tomorrow and hopefully get my shit together to make a somewhat good plot??

Lmao I lied I got really fucking lazy and wrote the chapter at 11 at night and published it at midnight

I wrote everything about no sympathy in one iCloud note and titled it “No sympathy; the complete chaos of making a book”

The true main character of No Sympathy is actually Levi since I feel like I understand him completely since I relate to him so much; making Levi the easiest character I’ve written about ever. Though, his true character (in my opinion) doesn’t necessarily shine through in the beginning chapters as Levi don’t get along with new people, but you can see him warm up to Aella by doing her homework, dragging her out of the party, etc.

I’ve realized I have a distinct writing pattern while writing No Sympathy: comma, semi-colon, double dash. (Chapters two and three really showcase it as I wrote those two back to back in the car)

Had I actually had the inspiration and the motivation to write this almost a year ago, I would’ve been writing about the mafia at 13, which is an absolute hilarious thought to think about when I look back to my previous fanfics. Then again, my dumbass 14-year-old self is just as clingy as my dumbass 13-year-old self lmaoo

I gave Aella the same birth day (not year lmao) as mine (September 10) so she’d be 17 during the first month of school and 18 for the rest of the book

Going off of that fact, Levi is exactly 1 year and 8 months older than Aella (I kept his original birthday)

My cat demanded that I gave him cuddles and attention so I had to stop writing for one entire day because he wanted cuddles

Normally my cat just lays on my chest while I write b u t n o he wanted cuddles

If Levi never came into the picture Aella would probably date Hanji (for all of those fellow LGBTQIA+ readers and readers that really love Hanji)

While writing chapter 1 I listened to Ghost by Halsey on repeat and I think if you read while playing the exact song it somewhat shows in the pace I set for readers.

The term ‘block class’ is actually derived from what my own high school (even though I’m not even fully considered a freshman yet jfc) uses when referring to a 90 minute class

The book Technically begins on a Saturday with Levi — the actual power duo meet that Monday (because unlike dumbass schools in real life, their first day of school was on a Monday instead of the Friday before.) on their first day. That Tuesday was chapter 4, Wednesday being chapter 5, Thursday being chapter 6 (we skip Friday because it doesn’t fucking matter in the story lmao), and Saturday being the day of the party.

Writing an x reader but without the reader was really fucking hard, honestly. I couldn’t just randomly say ‘Levi looked over at the H/C girl working on her homework across from him’ as it’d just be weird, so I thought of the next best thing and never described Aella — making her free for interpretation of her looks.

I was going to have Aella have a name reveal like ‘my real name is Y/N…’ but then I was like “No what? Fuck it. Levi already knew from the beginning after looking at her documents.”

No Sympathy was actually going to be an original story, but Levi’s character fit so well I decided to make it a fanfic.

I actually wanted to stop writing after chapter 3 because I didn’t know what to do with the plot, but I asked my friend for help coming up with the plot using the paragraphs of ideas I had to make an actual plot. So, I can successfully say I owe it to her for helping and the one sentence that kept me going in my head: “I want to make a story I’m proud of.” So I fucked up my (nonexistent, really lmao) sleeping and eating schedules and started working on this book everyday even when I didn’t post a chapter that day.

Though, it’s not really specified in the early chapters, Aella was bullied into being hated by the entire school — leaving her to be all alone, which actually happened to me and gave me PTSD after transferring.

Ironically, I gave Aella a ton of reactions and characteristics I would/ just generally have, but I see myself more in Levi, which is probably why I prefer writing about him over Aella.

As of writing this, chapter 5 is currently my favorite chapter as it is a mix of a filler chapter and a regular important chapter still just as important as the rest.

Depression and PTSD actually got in the way of writing so many times I actually am surprised I’ve written so much

As writing has always been my go to for letting out everything (as I have z e r o close friends lmao) I actually don’t realize when I’m done with each chapter until I realize I’m out of ideas for said chapter.

I don’t even realize I write about 2,000 words until it’s like “oh,,”

No Sympathy wasn’t just any fanfic for me, it was like I was actually Aella seeing the entire story unfold from beginning to finish

I tried to push myself to describe more, as I’ve noted while rereading my previous shitty fanfics — I struggled describing everything.

I tried to not have the basic “tch”, “brat”, and just random cursing from Levi unless it was at the exact wrong time (or I just put it in because I could totally see him saying that in said situation)

I tried characterizing Hanji as someone who wasn’t the basic overexcited dumbass most fanfics portray her as — instead I tried thinking of her as an actual person with reactions and different moods  and tried to embody that each time I wrote her

Character development is a huge thing Ive been trying to work on ever since I wrote A Valkyrie and a Mischievous God (though that character development and story sucked ass and I cringe at how popular it’s gotten), and a huge target for it was none other than Aella. At the beginning you could see she felt trapped in an endless cycle of stress and fending for herself, but when Levi came in and was like “lmao I have money you don’t have to stress” she felt like she was in an odd spot, and eventually after she reunited with Hanji she started to feel more free

Parents were completely cut out of this story because I genuinely don’t know how to write them as mine are either states away by choice or always working, so I just had Aella get kicked out and had her entire family gone.

My best ideas surface at 4 am when I’m trying to fucking sleep

Help me

But hey I now have a new passion for this book

I generally didn’t know how to end it

buT THEN I D I D

A huge thing for me, and my entire driving motion for writing this was a simple sentence: “I want to write something I’m proud of.”

Am I proud of this?

Eh. It’s not shitty, I suppose. I could always do better.

Characterization was so difficult for me. I wanted to stray from basic fanfics of an overly hyper Hange (though, I couldn’t help in some situations, but after watching an entire season and a half in one day, you notice personality changes) and write and more serious one — except I’m a damn shitty author with so many grammatical mistakes my ex-mentor would literally rip her hair out.

Writing a book has always been my goal, and I know this is the only thing that will ever come close to it.

I have another Levi x reader planned, but I always hate doing the basic ‘_____’ ‘Y/N’, etc because it literally drives my depressed self I n s a n e when writing

Most times for my outline summaries of the chapters I just put my name in place of Aella lmao

I actually struggled a lot when writing this; sometimes I even broke down thinking no one liked this book or I wasn’t a good enough author to write anymore.

My asshole self mainly spent my summer writing this rip

Currently, as it is July 2nd, I am literally hoping to Levi that I fucking get this done before August or else I’m so fucking screwed with beginning high school and shit.

Oh yeah btw, I’M NOT FUCKING READY FOR THE FINAL SEASON. I’LL BE A DAMN SOPHOMORE AND THAT IN ITSELF K I L L S ME

I don’t know if I’m actually going to continue with this book, but have these collected facts I started writing the moment the first chapter was out :,) It’s already September and my past dumbass was right

High school is kicking my ass

I have another story idea/plot written out and I really like it so idk. I think I’d stop halfway again because I’d think that no one would like it

[furlesspoop-blog]

DESTIEL/COCKLES FICS

Destiel/Cockles longer fics rec list (happy endings for all!)

(This is only a short list…only posting fics I’ve actually read so I know how much angst/whump/sex/fluff is contained, should be enough to tide you over for a while though, so enjoy >_<)

(Oh, my rec lists pretty much only ever contain fic NC-17 or above so if you don’t like the sex, the swearing and the violence then this is the wrong place for you my friend)

DESTIEL

300 Things - 76,500 WORDS. Dean’s life at twenty-four makes him feel like he’s forty–he works two jobs to help pay bills for his house and put his genius little brother through private school, and has spent six years (on and off, let’s be honest) working on his mechanical engineering degree at KU. With so much of his life devoted to his family, Dean has little time in his schedule for class and no time for social interaction. Then, while getting his classes together for the fall, he finds himself in a do-or-die situation: He must take his last literature class now, his spring already filled with those left for his major…except that none of the English classes will fit his schedule. A college AU. I generally assume every Destiel fan has read this, but just in case, here it is. It has love and angst and sex and a wonderfully happy ending. Go now. Read.

Tainted Love - 20 CHAPTERS. Castiel finds Dean in a strip club. Dean is surprised to discover he’s more interested in the angel then the strippers. Cash/Dean slash & eventual Balthazar/Sam slash, sexually graphic. This and the fic below are written by the same author, they writes Dean/Cas wonderfully, and the sex is…HOT, and the romance and love is so goddamn fucking perfect, but don’t worry there is plenty of angsting too. You just have to ignore that they think Sam has brown eyes and go with it.

Answering the Prayer - 12 CHAPTERS Cas answers Dean’s prayer. Sam finds Balthazar too tempting to ignore any longer. Slash, sexually graphic. Dean/Cas & Sam/Balthazar. IDGAF I fucking love Sam/Balthazar as a pairing, trust me, read it, you will too. Answering the prayer is one of my favs cause it has a tiny bit of Prayer loving in it and it’s a fav kink of mine.

Hummingbirds - 23,700 WORDS Castiel is rendered mute after being taught a painful lesson, but that enables Dean to learn a few lessons of his own while holding onto something important for him.Hurt/comfort; Castiel!whump; Dean!whump; porn. It’s very gory in places, so please be warned. And it’s also very, very soppy in others, so be warned for that, too. This is a wonderful fic, frustrated Cas is perfect. The whump is quite intense though, but that’s how this author writes, and it’s worth it.

The Melting Verse - 110,000 WORDS. The epic love story of Dean and Castiel told in 110,000 words. Stuffed to the brim with angel!porn, whump, angst, action, wing!porn and occasional soppiness, and Sam doesn’t get neglected either. (Although he doesn’t partake in the angel!porn, I should probably add.) Some of it’s really, really dark (with non-con), so be prepared for that if you’re just looking for a little schmoop. This fic is VERY dark in some places, but in others it is just…perfect, there are all kinds of love and porn involved and it is honestly my favourite, there were lots of tears (happy and sad) and the ending is fucking wonderful. The plot is so full on you’ll feel as though it’s canon.

Kissing it Bitter - 33,700 WORDS. Ever get the feeling the universe is trying to tell you something? This was originally a one-off in which I wanted Dean to save Castiel. And then Castiel ended up reciprocating, and then Lilith got involved, and, well, this happened. Contains much sexin’ and some violence… but, yeah, mainly sexin’. This is essentially an elongated fuck or die with a twist. It is spectacular though, in all the right ways. The past three fics are all by the same author, and there is A LOT more fics on their master listto read (some are just too angst for me…but do check them out, the one shots are fantastic too)

In Out of The Dark - 20 CHAPTERS A brother rotting in Hell, an angel hiding in Heaven, and a hunter consumed by the hunt…Dean tried to have a ‘normal’ life for Sam’s sake, but he couldn’t fight the hunt. It was as much who he was as taking care of Sammy. He’d failed at one; he couldn’t let himself fail at the other.It would take losing himself in the darkness and being dragged back into the light, before he accepted what he already knew …and maybe his angel would accept it, too. Plenty of angst, awesome Gabriel.

The Tripping Verse - 45,000 WORDS. What do you do when the Universe itself seems to have decided you belong with your very stoic, very angelic, very MALE hunting companion? Dean’s about to find out. This one’s wonderful. While the kissing happens pretty early on there is a lot of story before Dean and Cas properly get together, lovely build up. Oh, and the sex in chapter 10…UNF.

The Voice of the Turtledove - 60,645 WORDS Castiel was eleven years old when he first felt there was something wrong with him. He’s twenty-nine, a Roman Catholic priest in a small New England village, before Dean Winchester shows him that there isn’t. Ok, if you’re REALLY religious, and don’t approve of a 32 yo having sex with a 17 yo or priests misbehaving…do not read this fic. I hesitated at first, but honestly it’s a beautifully written (obstinatrix is fucking amazing) story and delicately handles all the issues in such a way that you really don’t feel even slightly irked. It’s only available as a PDF.

How to Destroy Angels - 5 LONGISH CHAPTERS.  Castiel is lost and hunted down. There’s a high priced on his head and of course … Everyone has to pay, right ? Except that his brothers want to kill him, and there are no places to hide. Really ? Dean finds broken and hurt, and none of them is ready : Castiel is not ready to fall and Dean is not ready to love. I honestly only started reading this because of the title (and my love for all things Reznor) but it is a great fic, a lot of Cas angst, but still sweet with a happy ending.

The Day the Whole World Went Away - 59, 658 WORDS. After being reunited with Sam and leaving Lisa, Dean is finding that adjusting back into the hunting lifestyle is harder than he thought it would be. When a particular hunt goes badly, he gets knocked out, only to awaken five years in the future. Things are definitely different; Castiel is a hunter, Sam is married and things between Dean and Castiel have gone somewhere Dean really hadn’t expected. And somewhere in all of this there is a lesson to be learned. Ok, never previously one for time travel fic, this completely blew me away. The Sam and Cas in this are to fucking die for. Also can I say how happy I am that Destiel writers love Trent Reznor as much as I do! fucking win.

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell -  31,600 WORDS. Sergeant Dean Winchester expects to hate whatever journalist they assigned to his team. Castiel Adams expects to hate the three weeks spent around nothing but military people. It goes nothing like they thought it would, and they find themselves growing closer by the minute. But will misunderstandings and fear break them apart? AU fic, a lot of Dean being a dick though, one of those ‘true love’ fics where it’s love at first sight…then life happens.

Peanut Butter-Pumpkin Wedding Cake - 31,000 WORDS. The good ones are sometimes assholes and always taken.Dean is a waiter in a strip club to put his kid brother through school. Castiel is dragged to the club as a part of his sister Anna’s bachelorette party. Dean and Cas hit it off, but Dean thinks Cas is the one marrying Anna. A romcom style fic with your classic romcom plot. It is quite wonderful in the end >_<

Face to Face With the Skies - 40,000 WORDS. (Set right after 4.22) Castiel was not killed by Raphael on the night of Lucifer’s release. Instead, he’s sent to the year 1996 and encounters the Winchesters. Unable to return to the present, Castiel resigns himself to traveling with them on their hunts across the state. Meanwhile in the year 2008, Dean has barely gotten used to being back in the land of the living when he gets the biggest shock of his life; the man he fell in love with when he was eighteen has seemingly come back from the grave as well, claiming to be an angel of the Lord. The thing is, he doesn’t have a clue who Dean is. Read this yesterday and fucking loved it. Young Dean and Sam are fucking awesome. Time travel fic done perfectly right.

Burning the Days - 25,000 words. When Dean and Cas show up in time to prevent Lilith’s death, Team Free Will are all set to settle back into a life of saving people and hunting things - but nothing’s perfect. Dean’s a jerk who can’t keep it in his pants; Cas feels there’s plenty of room in his for the both of them. Sam’s sure you can’t be fuckbuddies with an angel and he’s going to prove it - just as soon as he finishes scouring his eyeballs with soap.But when Cas becomes Heaven’s Most Wanted and the cops figure out the boys aren’t as dead as they should be, Dean and Cas may prove to be both more and less obtuse than expected. Basically this is one of those fics that’s main plot point is Dean being an emotionally retarded idiot and taking his sweet ass time to admit he loves Cas. It is great though, has awesome Sam, humor, and some sex too >_<

COCKLES

Worse Than Being Blind - 22,162 WORDS. To cope with the directing on the set of Stonehenge Apocalypse, Misha and his new best friend Hill, spend their nights drinking and trying to forget the fact that they’re on a ridiculous scifi B-Movie. It helps when the director yells that they should all have more intensity in the morning. And then, one night, Torri invites herself to their nightly drinking and Misha does not know that this has bad life plan written all over it because Torri can drink everyone under the table. Now Misha has to deal with an earnest and freaked out Jensen who flies to the set because he wants to talk about “the message” (complete with air quotes) that Misha left on his cell phone. Add a new cast that has made it their mission to make Misha as embarrassed as possible and Jared, who never met an innuendo that he didn’t like, and Misha wonders how his life ever got here. Oh, and they do still have a movie to film. Oh I do love this fic. Misha is so fucking clueless!

Orizuru -  47,000 WORDS. No matter how insignificant the question, Jensen has always craved answers. The origami birds scattered in his path are no exception - each accompanying message more obscure and more pointed than the last. As he slowly becomes the proud owner of a growing paper menagerie, Jensen has to decide whether to follow the clues or follow his heart. This one has a nice looooong ass build up to them getting together, plenty of UST, and to be honest…misha being a dick at times. I enjoy it because it’s from Jensens POV.

A Sort of Fairytale -  14 CHAPTER. Misha loves Jensen. Jensen is … getting there. The Misha in this is fantastic, and Jensen though he takes his sweet ass time is wonderful too >_<

Reconciling Hollywood -  32,000 WORDS, Misha has always prided himself on his mastery of the first impression - both giving and receiving. After all, people are easy enough to read if examined through the appropriate lens. For the last two years he’s stuck to his guns and his assumption that Jensen is just a good guy who made a dick mistake back when he thought Misha was disposable. Pushed him up against a trailer door and took because he could. But now, with Jared overseas with his new bride, Jensen around more than ever, and a decision weighing heavy on his conscience, Misha realizes that truly knowing Jensen might be nearly as impossible as knowing himself. In my opinion the best Cockles fic that currently exists. The characters are so lovable and the romance build is genuine. Must read.

And the North Wind Blows - 32,000 WORDS. Jensen is a ranger in the US Forest Service, on loan to the Canadians with the dual mandate of protecting the Boreal forest and a US logging outfit. He likes his solitary life collecting data and spending time in the luscious green forest that looms around his little cabin, until the day he gets a phone call: an eco-terrorist is protecting a tree the logging company wants to cut down. The terrorist in question, a young activist named Misha who climbs and swings through the trees like Tarzan, is not what he expects. Charged with getting him down and locking him up, Jensen has his work cut out for him, especially when it appears something more sinister is going on. What follows is a whirlwind of forbidden romance, lust and danger that turns Jensen’s once-quiet life upside down. And the most worrying part is he doesn’t think he minds. Fucking spectacular AU. Ranger!Jensen is all kinds of yes!

Usefull Illusions - 6 CHAPTERS. They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Wherein Jared innocently seeks to share his love of Blue Velvet and interesting things happen. Ok. This fic shifts from Jared, Jensen and Misha’s POV. The sex is hot, Jensen is a bit of a dick tbh, and there’s a Jared subplot that gets completely swept under the rug at the end (I feel the verse was abandoned unfinished?) BUT I’d still read it…for the sex haha.

Scotch Verse - 5 LONG CHAPTERS .  Jensen loves scotch, but every time he drinks it things happen. Misha encourages these particular things. As he’s wont to do. OK. basically this fic involves a lot of getting drunk on scotch and fucking. There is also a lot of relationship angst and FUCKLOADS of Jensen trust/intimacy issues. I still recommend a read though.

AND. That will do for now.

Here’s a link to the 2010 Dean/Cas bigbang masterlist with plenty of long ass fics there to read (I’m making my way through it one night duty at a time)

And my God am I gagging for the 2011 fics!