#okay back to not writing any actual words for my thesis ugh

[running-in-the-dark]

okay I love Fast Car, just like everyone else, but I just heard For My Lover for the first time and now I'm so mad I didn't buy this album on vinyl that one time I almost bought it (I had it in my hands!! I'm so stupid) 😫 oh my god.

[polutrope]

Number 23 (Going from a hot tub/sauna into snow/cold water), Galadriel and Celeborn (romantic or pre-romance, up to you)

For the modern AU holiday prompts! Here you are, Anon: ~1100 words of Galadriel meeting a cute boy at her 19th birthday party. (I received this same prompt for another couple, so there will be a part 2 of this with more actual snow jumping😉). Warnings for several f-bombs, some other swear words, and a millennial writing Gen Z. Sorry, besties.

Knotting her plush white robe loosely around her waist, Galadriel led the parade of her girlfriends onto the flagstones of Nevrast Nordic Spa.

Her friends chattered behind her.

“Yo, this place fucks.”

“For real.”

“Ahhh! Gal, it’s snowing!”

“Ugh, this is so boujee. I can’t believe I’m here.”

“Hey, sis,” Galadriel whirled on the last speaker. “No bad vibes, remember?” The other girls laughed. “Yeah, my rules, cause it’s my b-day, bitches!” She threw her arms out in a V-shape and struck a pose.

Edhellos lifted the phone dangling from her hand by a gold finger-loop and snapped a photo. “Ahh queen! You look so cute!” she said, looking at it, and hurried over to Galadriel to show her. Then she gestured to the others. “Come on, come on, babes, let’s get one of all of us.”

All four of Galadriel’s best friends huddled around her while Edhellos held her phone out as far as possible for a selfie.

“Okay, okay,” Galadriel said, and they all hushed. “So the way it works is you go hot, then cold, then relax. Hot pool or sauna, then cold pool or cold shower, then chill for fifteen minutes. And we're supposed to be quiet.”

They all nodded, except Nellas, who was a little removed from the group with her arms crossed over her chest. “I think I’ll just sit and read.”

“Oh come on, Nelly!” Edhellos whined. Evranin shushed her.

“No, it’s fine, Nel,” said Galadriel, and smiled. “Join us whenever.”

*

“I can’t believe we’re all nineteen now,” Lindis said a loud whisper as they lounged in the largest of the hot pools. “We’re so old.”

“Oh, please, spare me. You have no idea what old is,” said Evranin, who was all of twenty-one.

“Hey, I’m still eighteen for two weeks!” Edhellos protested. This time, Lindis shushed her.

Galadriel examined her pruny fingertips. “I don’t know. I’m kind of excited to get older. Maybe my dumbass family will stop treating me like a baby.”

At the mention of her family, Edhellos’ eyes lit up. “Oh hey, how’s Angrod?”

“Oh my god, Los,” said Lindis, “stop thirsting for her brothers!”

“Brother,” Edhellos corrected.

“I dunno.” Galadriel shrugged. “Maybe just ask him out already.”

Edhellos sputtered. The other girls giggled.

“I think Finrod is hotter,” Evranin said casually.

“He is way too old for you!”

“Isn’t he gay?”

“What? No! Galadriel said he had a girlfriend in Valin, remember?”

“The one he dumped?”

“No, she dumped him.”

While her friends debated the relative attractiveness and past relationships of her older brothers, Galadriel sank lower, rolling her shoulder blades back and forth over a water jet. She hummed contentedly and let her eyes fall shut. She’d been all nerves the last month with final exams and papers, but she was finally able to relax.

Just that morning her grades had come in: four A+ and one A (at least she was well above class average the last one). She’d also been taken off the waitlist for a seat in The Paranormal Mind. Thank fuck.

Everyone at Ondolindë University wanted to take that course, but Galadriel needed it if she was going to have any chance of doing her honours thesis with Melian Goel. Evranin, who was President of the Psychology Student Association, said that that Dr. Goel was planning to retire soon and might not be taking new students. Oh pleasepleaseplease, Galadriel thought, please take me.

She exhaled slowly and intentionally released the tension building in her neck. This wasn’t the time for worrying.

Then her eyes flew open and she bolted upright as a surge of water splashed over her.

“What the fuck!” she shouted, swiping the backs of her hands over her eyes.

“Celeborn, you dumb shit!” a male voice cried from behind her before breaking up into laughter.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” The person who’d narrowly missed tumbling on top of her rose from the water with an expression of sheer terror. “I’m so, so sorry. Are you okay? Oh god, I’m sorry. I slipped, we were racing from the…" Catching the look on Galadriel's face, his nose crinkled sweetly. "I guess that’s a pretty dumb excuse, huh?"

“Yeah, it is.” Galadriel smirked and bit her lip. He was her type: tall, slender but well-toned, and a little timid. Which was far preferable to the blustering arrogance that most guys her age — no, scratch that: all ages — liked to use to hide their emotional incompetence.

“That’s a sick tattoo,” she said, gesturing with her chin to the elegant tree climbing its way up one bicep.

“Oh, really?” he said. “Thanks. It’s a beech. There are a lot of them where I grew up, and— never mind, doesn’t matter. Thanks. Hey, by the way," he held out a hand, “my name’s Celeborn.”

“Galadriel.” His handshake was firm, but not too firm. Long fingers, too. A little spark of excitement shot down her arm as she pulled back. “So, you were racing—?”

She was cut off by a whoop from his friend still standing on the flagstones behind them, which prompted Galadriel’s friends, who’d huddled by the small waterfall at the opposite end of the pool, to finally take notice of the interaction.

As Celeborn’s friends — the first now joined by two more — slid into the pool, Galadriel’s group drifted over like a train of ducklings lured by breadcrumbs.

“Hey, I’m Galathil,” the loud one said, “and this is Mablung, and Beleg. Celeborn here is my little brother.”

Galathil attempted to ruffle Celeborn's silver-blond hair, but it clung wetly to his head.

“Hi,” Galadriel waved coolly, then dragged her eyes from Celeborn to the empty space beside her, beckoning him to sit before someone else did.

He picked up on the cue, seating himself at a respectable distance; but to his right, Edhellos slyly shuffled over so that he too was forced to scoot closer to Galadriel.

“Yeah,” he said, in answer to her interrupted question. “We thought it would be fun to, you know, go from the sauna into the snow,” he pointed to the snow banks around the spa area, “and then from the snow to the hot tub.”

“Oh really?” Galadriel’s eyebrows shot up, and Celeborn looked sheepish. “You know you’re supposed to ‘relax’ in between the cold and going back to the hot?”

Several of Galadriel’s friends giggled.

“Huh?” said Celeborn.

“You’re supposed to go hot, cold, then relax for fifteen minutes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Galadriel smiled and smacked his arm lightly. “But the snow thing sounds fun.”

His face split into a dashingly handsome smile that dimpled his cheeks. “Yeah,” he said. “It is.”

“Hey fam,” she called to her friends. “Wanna jump in the snow?”

“What!” shrieked Lindis.

“Hell no,” said Evranin.

“Ahh so fun, yes please!” Edhellos squealed, and levered herself out of the hot tub. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Lit,” said Galathil to no one in particular, and followed her.

“Come on,” Galadriel said to Celeborn as the others squirmed and scurried out of the pool in various states of enthusiasm. “I’ll hold your hand so you don’t slip this time.”

[emwritesstuff]

housesitting | bucky barnes x reader

summary: Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything.

You can hardly see how Bucky Barnes stumbling into his apartment at 3 am with multiple wounds is one of them. But I guess it might be?

notes: this is my attempt at a more ~comedy centered one-shot, with some making out in the middle because uh, who doesn’t like that? In other news, reader is Chaotic. Canon mcu (Infinity War/Endgame) is non-existent in this.  (word count: 3K)

warnings: language, mentions of blood, gunshot wounds, general patching up shenanigans, some making out/grinding but not quite third base

[PART 2: breaking and entering]

Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything. An old popsicle thing, you assume.

It’s peaceful, too. The neighborhood is nice and quiet, the other tenants are either extremely polite or too scared of Captain America to make much noise. You’ve had very nice stay-cations at his place, where you were free to choose to binge The Office while eating an entire pizza in the spam of 2 episodes or taking advantage of the quiet to write your grad-school thesis.

So when a loud BANG almost makes you drop your coffee mug on the floor, your spidey senses are immediately on alert. You don’t care how many times Peter insisted that it wasn’t a thing, your arm hairs stood up and your heart started hammering on your chest all the same.

You contemplate squeezing under the bed, turning off the show that was long abandoned and hiding until whatever it is goes away, but before you can do any of that, a string of sharp cursing and soft thumps and thuds snaps you out of your fear.

Maybe it’s a burglar. You could take a clumsy burglar, easy.

Now feeling like Tony had just welcomed you into the Avengers, you hop off Steve’s bed and let your baby Yoda socked feet carry you stealthily into the living room, holding a table lamp as if it was a baseball bat.

Everything is quiet, with no signs of forced entry at the door (you remember someone on Law and Order using those words), and in the dark you don’t notice the bloody trail coming from the kitchen.

You’re imagining things, then. When was the last time you slept? You don’t even feel tired, but you know sleep deprivation always gets you all kinds of crazy.

It happens the second your arm falls to your side and your posture shows the slight of relaxation. A strong arm around your neck and a hand against your mouth to muffle the screaming.

In the quiet of Steve’s apartment building, there is only you shrieking and howling and thrashing against the hold of a stranger.

“Don’t fuckin’ move.” You still.

And then you bite into the hand that is muting you, immediately regretting it when your teeth sink into something hard. Metal? Concrete? Ouch. You resume your resistance, determined, and is shoved away.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Who the fuck are you.” His voice is gruff and dulled over the mask he is wearing, and as you’re taking this giant of a man in, you notice it.

The metal arm. The strapped leather jacket. The tortured blue eyes.

Winter Soldier.

The intruder is James “Bucky” Barnes, Steve’s best friend. That’s who the fuck it is.

“I’m Steve’s house sitter! I even have a key.” You say, with arms in front of you to signal no harm but inching closer to the table lamp with every step.

“House…sitter? Where’s Steve?”

“Who knows. Maybe a mission. He texts me, I come over.” You shrug, and put a chair back to where it was before it got knocked over.

“I don’t believe you. Where is Steve?”

“Listen, I don’t know, okay? I guess he’s just out for a few days. I don’t ask. He just lets me stay in here so I can water the plants and feed the Avengers.”

“The– the what?”

“The Avengers! The fish, see.” You point to the aquarium, where a handful of colorful fish swam peacefully in.

Peace. So much for your peace, because now what you have is a surly super soldier eyeing the fish tank like it was the most loathsome thing in the entire universe, except maybe for you.

“I hate this thing. Naming them makes it even worse.” He trudges back to the kitchen, stomping on the floor like he was on a parade.

So much for the other people’s peace, too.

“Hey! Sir. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s 3 in the fucking morning?” You sass, putting your hands on your hips when he retorts that yeah, he does know. “What are you even doing here?”

“Back from a mission.” He grumbles without looking at you, as if you’re the one who stumbled into his place in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t your place, but still.

“Don’t you have a house?” There’s a part of you that knows pushing the Winter Soldier’s buttons is asking for trouble, but your tired and confused brain decides to ignore it.

“You interrogating me? I need a motherfucking– ” He wheezes and nearly doubles over, holding on the door frame between the living room and the kitchen. You finally spot the blood, both on the tiles and seeping out of the Soldier’s jacket and pants.

He’s hurt. Shit.

“– first aid kit.”

“You need a motherfucking hospital!” You shrill, panic chilling your bones. You don’t do blood. Or any kind of wound, for that matter.

The man ignores you, opening up cabinets hastily. You huff, and walk past him to get to the actual home of the first aid kit. Steve’s oldest, closest friend and can’t even find a box with pharmaceutical supplies in his kitchen. You slam it on the counter next to him.

“You’re welcome.”

“Zip it.”

Just a look from him is enough to render you speechless, and not in the good, butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of way. You’re positive that one swat of that metal arm and you’ll be flying out of the window.

He begins by removing his mask, revealing a handsome face underneath, and you try your best to focus on how dark and menacing it looked while locked in that scowl of his. Then, he unbuckles his jacket and discards it on the floor, it coming to a stop next to your feet.

Oh man, he’s naked. Well, not really, just the incredibly toned, strong and muscular top half of him, but you stare wide-eyed as if he was.

“See somethin’ you like, doll?” He quips, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and you turn your back to him, mostly to hide your own embarrassment.

“No.” You cross your arms resolutely, because you definitely don’t think he’s attractive. He is a rude, grumpy, private-property-invader-bastard. Doll. Yuck.

You hear a rumble come out of his chest. Is he laughing? Shithead. Other noises follow, wheezes, small grunts and the tinkle of metal on the marble counter.

A particular pained grunt makes you turn, and you see Barnes with his body twisted, trying to reach a bloody hole on his back. It would be funny if he wasn’t trying to poke a gunshot.

“Do you need… help?” You ask, against your own will, only to be met with his icy gaze.

“No.”

“Come on, you can’t even reach that.”

Another glare is shot your way, and you quirk your brow up. He did need the help, you think, because aside from the muscles and the sweat making him glisten like a delicious – wait what – glazed donut, the man looked like hell.

“…fine.” He slides a pair of surgical prongs, something you identify in your head as oversized tweezers, and you instantly regret your offer. Pressing an iodine-soaked cotton ball to a wound, sure. But not this.

He turns his back to you without a word, supporting himself on the marble. You think that he’s about to make a dent on the goddamn stone if he keeps holding onto it that hard.

“Ah, fuck. Shit. Fuck. Ugh, it’s so gross. Fuck.”

It’s the most horrifying thing you’ve ever done, but you try your best to get to the bullet quickly, so very thankful that Barnes holds himself perfectly still for you. “Got it!”

He lets out a long breath when you toss the prongs and the bullet on the counter with the rest and resumes his cleanup. So, he’s not even going to say thanks. Great.

You try not to think about how you still want to make conversation while you hurriedly scrub the blood from your hands, because aside from the hostility and him jumping on you as a meet-cute, the guy peeks your interest.

Steve has said Barnes is nice, too, and you believed Steve, because he’s basically incapable of lying. Or maybe because he’s pretty. Both, for sure.

With your hands now clean, you turn to him, mouth open with some kind of conversation starter that is immediately forgotten.

Oh man, he’s naked. For real this time.

Bucky Barnes has stepped out of his pants while you were overthinking by the sink, now standing in only a pair of black boxers. It’s like he feels you staring at his butt, because he turns to you with raised eyebrows.

“Last one’s on my thigh. I got it.” He’s holding the prongs this time, and you’re glad you don’t have to do anything, because your face next to that groin might make you go into spontaneous combustion.

“Yeah.”

He hums. You hope all of this is a fever dream.

“Isn’t there a med bay at–”

“Don’t like people prodding and pokin’ at me.” His comment makes you grimace. He’s the Winter Soldier, damn it. You know the stories, everyone does. Of course he doesn’t like being prodded.

He looks at you funny, probably because you went dead quiet. You don’t want him to think you feel pity, because you don’t, but god don’t you feel bad for poking him now, even if verbally.

“I’m gonna – grab one of Steve’s – uh. Dude you need to put some clothes on. Jesus.”

He laughs at you again, which you’re thankful for because anything is better than the awkwardness of the other subject. You pick up a black pair of sweatpants that was so deep in one of Steve’s drawers that you know he’d have to have bought it and never had the guts to put it on. This one would do just fine.

If there is one thing Steve Rogers isn’t, is a black sweats guy.

“Here.” You deposit the sweats and a white tee on the counter, one of the millions that you found inside the closet. Barnes was patching himself up now, bandages wrapped everywhere on his body.

Got his ass kicked good. You shudder when you imagine the state of the other guy.

He eyes the clothes, and saying nothing, returns to his task. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I didn’t ask you to help me.”

“Yeah, but I did anyways! ‘Cause I’m stupid, I guess.” You almost hurl a dirty plate at him when he scoffs, muttering a yeah, guess you are. “God, why are you so grumpy?”

“Well you try being shot 5 times and see how cheerful you are after.”

“You got shot 5 times?!”

Looking at you from between his brows, the Soldier nods to the five mangled bullets sitting on the counter. You think about how you’ve made yourself a sandwich just hours earlier on the exact same spot. You want to puke.

Taking time to look around yourself, you can finally grasp the state of Steve’s ever-so-pristine kitchen, now a mess of dirty clothes, blood and your own few dishes from the night before. You don’t even think about what you’re doing as you move, gathering every single cleaning supply you can find, and start working on the cleanup.

You’re struggling, because obviously you’ve never done this before. Anyone can tell, from your soft abdomen and your severe lack of muscle, that you’re not an Avenger. Sure, you work with them, but you’re usually neck deep into advanced tech, not in the gym by any means. Also, you don’t do blood.

That means you have to think about something else, anything else, while you’re manically cleaning the floor. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, the Winter Soldier’s tight ass, four sheep, get it together goddamnit –

“Leave it. I’ll clean.”

You huff, he huffs back, and you look up at him.

“You got shot five times. Go sit down or something before you blow your back too, grandpa.” You call him that to assure yourself that he is old, like actually super old, and thirsting over him is weird. Even weirder when he’s all bandaged and bleeding. And still shirtless. Shit.

He mumbles something that you ignore, and stomps off. You think you actually did a pretty decent job with the cleaning, considering.

You need coffee. Definitely an entire bottle of vodka too, but there was no alcohol in this god’s good home, so you settle for the brew that you made earlier. You pour a mug for Barnes too, because you’re nice like that, and amble into the living room to find him slumped on a chair.

“Coffee?” You start, settling his mug on the table next to him.

“It’s almost 5 a.m.”

“Guess I’m up early for once. Maybe I should go for a run.”

He snorts, and opens one eye to inspect you from where he is. He reaches out for the coffee, using his metal hand, and you consider the two ways this could go.

He’d shatter the mug right then and there. Or, he’d throw it at you. Your jaw goes slack at what he actually does, sirens blaring loudly in your head. Truly astonishing, the most bewildering turn of events.

He drinks from it.

“Thanks. Quit staring at me.”

“Wow, Mr. Winter knows the magic words. Mr. Barnes. Sergeant?” You’re thinking aloud, abandoning any trace of sanity you’ve been holding. You even sit on the couch next to his armchair.

“It’s Bucky,”

Again, absolutely bewildering. You must be going insane.

“– and you talk too much.” He finishes, with an end-of-story tone, and returns to his rest. At least that felt like normality.

“Bucky. Bucky.” You roll the name on your tongue, feeling a weird buzz start to take over you. It grows stronger when you notice he’s looking at you, one brow quirked as if you lost your marbles. “You know, Bucky, this is definitely not how I saw my night going. Home invasion, playing surgeon – not my usual kind of fun.”

You get up, maybe because you decide that you – and Bucky – need a blanket, or maybe because you need a distraction from his chest going up and down like it’s got a business with making you want to touch it.

You’re not a slut, but who knows? Jim Halper would get it.

“You’re that kid, aren’t you? Stark’s assistant.” Bucky’s voice, low and husky, makes you jump. You look at him, your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

It’s surprising that he knows you, considering. He’s – well, he’s basically a celebrity, if ex-assassins could be considered that. You’re only Tony’s techie, and you and Bucky have never actually met, not even in the few parties you had attended to stop your boss from nagging you that you had to actually go out and have some fun sometimes, because you’re still young and cute and you need to enjoy yourself before you get saggy and bitter.

Jokes on him, you were born bitter.

“I’m no kid.”

“Nice socks.”

You wiggle your toes and it makes the ears of one of the baby Yodas move.

“Still not a kid! If you wanna be sad and wear your sad, plain socks, Bucky, that’s entirely your choice.” You said, pointing your index at him, making circles in the air with it to really get your point across.

Bucky smirks, and you go up to him with the two blankets on your arms. He’s blocking the door with that bulky body of his, and you raise your eyebrows quizzically.

“I’ll have you know – meeting Steve’s annoying, mouthy, pretty house sitter is not how I saw my night going either.” Bucky puts a doubtful tone on house sitter, as if he still doesn’t get exactly what it means.

You blink. You’re positive you heard it wrong. Is he… is this flirting?

“You think I’m pretty?”

“I called you annoying and mouthy too.”

“Yeah, I mean I know that much about me.” You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “The pretty part is new though.”

Bucky still hasn’t moved from the doorframe, and you find yourself staring up at him. He is inches away now, pupils blown wide in the darkness, and you can see a ring of steely blue around them. He licks his lips, and you’re drawn in.

The maelstrom in his eyes sends you spinning.

“I think someone should say you’re not see through, much less–”

Bucky shuts you up by pressing his lips onto yours, a slow, exploratory kiss, the tenderest he’s been all night. His metal hand rests on your lower back, making you shiver at the cool touch.

You’re all panting and eagerness when you cup his face with both hands and press your body against his. You need to deepen this kiss. You haven’t drooled over Bucky Barnes all night to keep things lovey-dovey.

He responds in earnest, pulling you closer. The flesh hand on the back of your neck is a stark contrast against the chill of the other. You and Bucky stumble from the corridor and back to the living room, knocking over a few of Steve’s decorations in the process.

“I don’t feel as bad for this one.” You mumble against his lips, stopping to look at a particular framed picture of Captain America in uniform, surrounded by every single counterfeit Cap in Times Square.

“S’ one of his favorites.”

You nod, you’re aware. Steve thinks it’s the most hilarious thing ever.

Bucky’s breath tickles the hairs on your neck when he continues.

“I hate it.”

“Yeah.”

You capture his lips again, and you two resume your chaotic redecorating. You’re thankful for Bucky’s strong arms keeping you from falling over, because at this point you’re not sure if your legs work anymore.

He takes you with him when he drops down on the same armchair from earlier, and the dizzy spell you find yourself in is broken when you hear him groan.

Right. He’s battered up and stuff.

“Shit, Bucky, I’m sorry–”

“No.” He pulls you close again, and guides your body to straddle one of his thighs. “Stay right here, doll.”

Doll. God-fucking-damnit.

His hand moves under the elastic band of your pants, oh my god you’re making out with Bucky-Hot-Piece-Of-Ass-Barnes in your wiener dog pajama bottoms, and finds the hem of your underwear. He pulls on it, and you yelp when he lets it snap against your side.

He laughs, and you vibrate along with his chest.

You find yourself grinding on his leg, sucking on his bottom lip, raking your nails along his shoulders, doing anything, everything for more, trying to burn the taste and the feel of him on your memory. He moves on to kiss your neck and you sigh, tugging on his hair and making sure you’re holding on for dear life.

Your eyes flutter open, enough to see the fish Avengers in their tank.

The Avengers.

Steve Rogers is an Avenger. So is Bucky, technically.

You’re making out with Bucky. One of his hands is on your boob.

This is Steve’s apartment.

You manage to sober you up enough, despite Bucky’s constant attacks of open mouth kisses and bites on your neck.

“I don’t think Steve would – if we–” You lift your head begrudgingly to look at him. “You know, on his armchair.”

“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced, but his hand moved up from your butt to your waist again.

Steve Rogers was probably miles away right now and still cockblocking you.

Even worse, his furniture was cockblocking you.

Stupid star-spangled IKEA shopper.

And his hot best friend. Who’s currently smiling at you in a such a way that makes you almost abandon all comradery towards Rogers and the sanctity of his place.

You debate getting up, but resign yourself to burying your nose in the crook of Bucky’s neck and just staying there, because honestly, when are you going to have the chance to do this again. Never, that’s when.

Also, he’s surprisingly comfortable for someone with a metal arm and such a jacked-up body.

“You’re sleepy.”

“No, I’m like, super awake.”

It’s a lie, because now that the sparks have flown and the rush of blood in your ears gave way to the quietness of the early morning, you feel yourself drifting, on and off, surprising yourself when you come to once and find that Bucky is still there, warm under you.

“Sleep, doll. I need it too.”

You shift, ready to let his rhythmic breathing lull you to sleep. The last 75 sleepless hours catch up with you.

“Bucky? If you want to break into someone’s house again sometime – I have a first aid kit too. Just sayin’.”

[rinkunokoisuru]

I don’t normally write fan fics, not to mention actually share them, so I’m super nervous, but whatever, here we go This is based on the comic by @horrendoushag because I saw @lexosaurus‘s tags. Also some inspiration from some other fics seeing as I’ve read a lot of them.

Danny paused his game of Doomed and slid his over-sized set of headphones to his neck with a sigh at the knock on the door. He wasn't expecting Sam or Tucker to come over, and he knew that Jazz was at the library working on her thesis, so that really only left one or both of his parents as the one responsible. He swung his chair slightly towards the door as the knocking continued. "Yeah?" Danny called, voice raised. "Danny, can we come in? We need to talk with you." As suspected, it was his parents. Yes he'd forgotten to clean the lab again, and yes he'd only barely passed most of his classes, but this wasn't anything new for him. Besides, classes had only just ended for the semester, so it was unlikely that that was what they wanted to talk about since report cards hadn't even been sent home yet. Mentally preparing himself, he decided that he'd just have to let them come in and talk his way out of whatever it was they had to say or just accept the in-coming grounding. "Uh. Yeah, I guess." His mother opened the door and stepped to the side to allow his father space to enter the room.

"So what did you want to talk about?" Danny asked nervously. Maddie's lips were pulled tight and if the hood of her hazmat suit had been pulled back, Danny was sure the fire in her eyes would have been enough to make him shrink even further into his seat. Glancing towards his dad's more expressive face in hopes that he had just misinterpreted, Danny could see that he was just upset as his mother, though with a hint of confusion mixed in as well. "Would you care to explain this, young man?" She held up her phone for Danny to see the screen. From where he was sitting, he couldn't really see what the fuss was about. "It's, uh, twitter?" he shrugged before crossing his arms. "Danny-boy," his father stated sternly. "Alright, alright. Let me see," he grabbed for the phone. As he browsed through what his mother had passed to him, Danny felt his stomach flop in a mix of fear and embarrassment. "Well, Danny?" she tapped her foot impatiently. "What's all this about you dating that menace, Phantom?" Danny winced and sunk further into his chair. He never expected his parents would go on twitter in the first place, let alone find his profile. Phantom had had his own twitter profile for only a week before he'd been assaulted by people claiming ghosts weren't real, that they were his biggest fans, that he was scum that needed to be eradicated, people asking if he would date them, and other uncomfortable comments. Danny had learned to either ignore them or play along and quickly became known for his shitposts. The fact that he was dating himself had started as just a joke with Sam and Tucker to try to aggravate Wes, it had been inconceivable at the time that his parents would ever find those tweets. Yet here they were. "I can explain?" He could not explain. "Well let's hear it then, Danny," his mom replied, raising an eyebrow. The impatient foot tapping continued as he stared at the bedroom floor. He brought his hand up to rub at his neck, a nervous habit of his, as he wracked his brain for an excuse. The uncomfortable silence dragged on for what felt like hours to Danny, though was only about a minute before his dad broke it. "Danny," Jack soothed, placing his sizable hand on his son's significantly smaller shoulder, "we understand that you're getting older and starting to make a lot of your own decisions, but your mother and I are worried about you. It just isn't safe to spend so much time around such a dangerous ghost." "Phantom isn't dangerous." "I know Phantom is very popular with kids your age, but he is dangerous. He pretends to protect the town, but who knows what he could do if he decided to stop faking it," Maddie added. Danny jerked away from his father's hold and jumped out of his chair, only barely able to stop his eyes from glowing an unnatural ectoplasmic green. "No! Jazz and I keep telling you! Phantom doesn't pose a threat to humans." Jack narrowed his eyes with skepticism, and Danny was sure his mother was doing the same beneath her goggles. Letting out an exasperated huff, Danny continued, "You guys are too caught up in your 'research' to even consider that a ghost could be good. When was the last time you even talked with a ghost?" "Danny..." his mother started. Both of his parents had heard this same argument from Jazz plenty of times by now. "No, listen. You never listen. Phantom isn't going to hurt me!" "You can't know that." "Yes! I can!" "And how is that!" Maddie's lips impossibly pressed even thinner, her whole stance becoming more aggressive. "Because I'm Phantom!" His parents seemed to deflate at this outburst. As soon as he realized what he'd said, his hands flew to his mouth and he allowed the cold rush of invisibility to run over him. ---- It had been two weeks now since Danny had accidentally revealed to his parents that he and Phantom were one and the same. While the experience had been less than pleasant at the time, in hindsight it had been a pretty stupid way for his secret alter ego to come out. Jazz had come home not long after the confrontation. When she found out what had happened, she had some words of her own and stormed out to find Danny. As soon he returned safely, the whole family sat down to have a civil discussion about the news that Danny had been half ghost for almost two full years before they found out. To Danny's relief, his parent's had instantly accepted him, though that didn't stop them from feeling like they were at fault for what happened to him. Most of those two weeks since the outburst had been spent assuring his parents he was okay and that he didn't blame them. In fact he liked being part ghost. All things considered, things went much better than he thought they ever would have. Though that didn't stop things from being a little awkward when it came to Danny using his powers. ---- Danny and his friends slid into their usual booth at the Nasty Burger, Sam making sure to sit as far from the trays with meat as she could lest her stomach turn at the smell. Tucker lifted his Nasty burger and took a large whiff before shoving it into his mouth. "Sho how are your parentsh adjushting to you being Phantom?" "Please swallow your food before talking, Tucker," Sam rolled her eyes. Danny picked up one of his french fries and mindlessly dipped it into his ketchup. "I think they're doing alright. I'm still kind of hesitant to transform in front of them though." "I understand that. You basically lied to them for the past two years. It's going to take time for them to be completely comfortable with your ghost half," Sam said, picking at her slightly wilted salad. "Ugh, you sound like Jazz," Danny groaned, tossing his uneaten fry back onto the tray. "I know it's going to take time for them to get used to it." "They did say they want to support you, dude," Tucker gulped down the rest of the greasy burger. "Maybe you just need to expose them to a little more of your ghostly side," he wiggled his fingers for emphasis before pilfering some of Danny's fries, "Just use your powers around the house more often, man. Think of all the things you can do without worrying about getting caught now!" Danny glared briefly at the fry thief before turning back to his food with a sigh. "Maybe you have a point, Tuck." "Of course I do." "Maybe talk to Jazz about this plan first, just in case." "Better point," Danny replied before smacking Tucker's wandering hand away from his food once again. "Ouch! You weren't even eating those!" "They're still my fries." For the rest of their lunch, the group of teens mostly chatted about what movies they were looking forward to, which ghosts had been most annoying lately, and what other plans they had for their summer vacation. Eventually though, the trio had to go their separate ways. Sam's mother had plans to drag her daughter to some sort of benefit for the umpteenth time and Tucker had promised a group of his online friends that he'd help them out in some new game they were playing, so Danny waved goodbye and headed home by himself. It wasn't long before he'd arrived at his own doorstep and made his way upstairs. Danny considered dropping into bed and taking a nap before some ghost inevitably dropped in, but found himself wandering over to Jazz's room instead. Seeing the door was ajar, he quietly rapped on the door frame until his sister looked up from whatever she was working on. "What's up, Danny?" Jazz asked, a small smile on her face as she scooted her chair away from her desk so she could look at her brother while they spoke. He shuffled into the room and leaned against the wall. It took hardly any time for Danny to explain what he had discussed with Sam and Tucker, leaving Jazz looking pensive. "It actually seems like a pretty good idea to me," she finally said. "I think it might be good for all three of you. Especially since Mom and Dad aren't trying to shoot you anymore," she smirked. Danny let go of the tension he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Thanks, Jazz." "No problem, little brother," she smiled gently. Danny sent back a small smile of his own and left the room, allowing Jazz to return to her work. --- "Danny?" "Yeah, Mom?" he called from the living room. "Can you help me with dinner, sweetie?" Rather than gather the energy to stand from his relaxed position on the couch, Danny tucked his phone into his pocket and allowed the cold feeling at his core to overtake him. There was a bright flash of light and suddenly where there had sat the blue-eyed, black-haired Fenton, was instead the blindingly bright white hair and toxic green eyes of his Phantom form. Now was as good a time as any to start using his powers around his parents more often. He let the weightlessness that came more naturally in his ghost form take over and lazily floated into the kitchen. "What did you need help with?" his voice echoed ominously. His mother jolted in surprise before once again composing herself. "I was just hoping you could reheat the leftover mashed potatoes to go with dinner," she started hesitantly. "I'm not interrupting a fight with a ghost, am I?" "Hm? Nah," he replied.    "A-alright then." Danny hovered on over to the refrigerator and stuck the entire front half of his body inside. He soon emerged with the cold bowl of potatoes and popped them into the microwave. At least they were less likely to come to life since they'd only been in there a day or so. Maddie watched her son flit about the kitchen like this was the most normal thing in the world. She absent-mindedly cleaned up the mess from preparing the night's meatloaf and supposed that for Danny, it probably was the norm. If he'd been half-ghost for nearly two years, then it would be sillier to expect him not to use his powers from time to time. "So how long until the meatloaf is done?" Danny questioned. The microwave was still running, but rather than continue to float in various places around the room, he had instead elected to change back into his human form and play around on his phone. "Just a few more minutes." "Awesome." They settled into a comfortable silence, Danny tapping away at a game on his phone and Maddie putting the finishing touches on the sides for their dinner. The quiet was only interrupted when the shrieking of the microwave alerted them that the potatoes were hopefully done reheating. "Danny, go get your father for dinner," Maddie said as she went to take the meatloaf out of the oven. "Okay," Danny replied without even looking up from his phone. In an instant, Danny Fenton had once again been replaced by Danny Phantom. Maddie stared in wide-eyed confusion as her son bent down onto the kitchen floor and stuck his head into the basement below. Jack happened to be looking up at the clock when he saw a shock of glowing, white hair sink through the ceiling. He felt his jaw drop as his the rest of Danny's head followed. There was a moment where they stared at each other, neither saying anything. "Dinner's ready," Danny finally relayed. Jack managed to shake himself out of his stupor. "Great! Thanks, Danny-boy!" The ghostly head of his son retreated back through the ceiling. It was going to be a while before Jack and Maddie could be completely comfortable around their son in ghost form, but at least Danny got to be a little shit in the process.

[bookofmirth]

Do you have any advice for anyone who has no writing inspiration or just doesn't know what to put in their essay? For some reason, I struggle with starting a paper so much.

- A procrastinating college student lol

Hello!

The best thing I've ever heard is "you can't fix something you haven't written". And all writing needs revision. Nothing comes out perfect, the exact way you intended in your head. But you can't get it close to perfect if it doesn't exist in the first place.

Get used to making a mess and then going back and cleaning it up. If you have to start your paper by typing "ugh this sucks, I don't want to write a research paper about socioeconomic status and food waste aldsfhklahda, I forgot what the purpose of this paper is, when is it due again?", then you know what? You got words on the page. And maybe only a few of those words will actually make it to the final draft, but congratulations! You started your paper!

(Just make sure you go back and clean that up haha)

There's a misconception that writing exists in our heads in some perfect form before it comes out onto the page and that isn't entirely true. Yeah, you might have no idea what to write now, but sometimes that process of discovering what you want to say happens as the words appear - not before. I always had to go back to my thesis statement and intro and rewrite it because the thing I thought I was going to write? Wasn't totally the thing I ended up writing.

I also like to share this with my students: just because you aren't literally putting words on the page, doesn't mean you are procrastinating. There is a lot of work that has to be done before you can start writing, but it's easy to overlook. Reading the assignment sheet, searching for sources, reading and choosing the sources, annotating them for evidence, figuring out your genre, etc. You're doing the work, you just can't see it yet.

okay last thing, and this was something I did as a student too, but I developed the habit of creating a Word doc as I was reading my sources, and then copying/pasting direct quotes, paraphrases, or different thoughts I had as I was reading my sources. Then by the time I was done reading, I had a solid page (at least) of evidence that I could build my paper around. I wouldn't use all of it, of course, but it was a place to start. (Also please cite that shit as you write it out, don't punish yourself by having to go back later because that's the literal worst, trust me.)

[khadij-al-kubra]

Worst Impressions are the First (ch 7)

Main Characters: Logan, Patton, Roman, Virgil (Human AU)

Pairings: Romantic LAMP

Word Count: 5036

AO3

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Author’s (longer than usual but it’s for good reason) Note: *The Apocalypse—2020. Zoom in on a plague rat turned writer. She has survived thesis projects, getting a Master’s degree, burnout, writing and illustrating a children’s book, being a slave for the U.S. census bureau, months of overthinking anxiety spirals, and one or two incidents involving an asshole skunk. But now, battle weary yet unwavering in her love of art and love for her loyal readers, this onesie-clad tea slurping book dragon....has finally arisen from the ashes*

I LIVE BITCHES!!!!!!! And I am SO SORRY for taking so long!!! I’ve been hard at work, been editing like a mad woman, and I even have a beta now! The gorgeous and talented @humbletortoise So I  am OFFICIALLY off hiatus!!! *cue confetti canon* 

Also, one of the biggest reasons I’ve taken so long to update is because I’ve spent the past month or so essentially retconning the fuck outta this fic. I realized looking back at earlier chapters in this story that, although I was proud of them at the time and greatly appreciate the positive reactions, they were...not my best work. (shitty first drafts if I’m being honest) That’s because, at the time, I was trying to split my attention between writing this fic and working on grad school stuff, which resulted in my writing for this not being as best of quality as it could have been upon first posting. This story deserves my best, and so do all of you. So now I hope to give you that. 

I encourage you to go back and re-read the previous chapters up till now (trust me, they’re near unrecognizable to the first drafts, but in the best way). Or if you don’t feel like doing that, you can just continue on from here. totally cool. For the sake of convenience and my own sanity, I’ll attach the AO3 Link to this fic from the start. I may also start just posting chapter updates on tumblr but only have the link to the chapter and add my reader tags. Again, for the sake of my sanity because Tumblr is a bastard when it comes to posting fics. (Also PLEASE let me know if there are any tagging issues if anyone’s on my tags list; yet another reason i’m considering just linking my fics in the future)

Anywho, without further ado, at LOOOOOONG last, here is the next chapter!

Chapter 7 - (POV Roman)

When Roman had offered to walk with Logan to class, it was only partly out of an innate sense of chivalry; a side of himself that he rarely got to show on account of being a socially awkward gay disaster. Though mainly, he saw it as a chance to get to know his second soulmate better.

He certainly hadn’t expected two long minutes of civil but silent walking. Well, as silent as a stroll through their school could be with its usual racket buzzing around them. With a vocabulary as big as the continents of Africa and Eurasia combined, you’d think Logan would be more of a conversationalist. Alas. He merely walked in step with Roman. They glanced over at each other every so often, but Logan stayed tight lipped and seemingly impassive; fiddling with his bumblebee hair pin every now and again. Damn. Looked like he was going to have to make the first move.

Roman was bad at this. How did people usually…Oh yeah, common interest. That’s a thing. He wracked his brain for some sort of ice breaker. One that’d make him look cool and calm or, something, in front of Logan. He was a fairly decent student though not quite mathletes level. He could compliment his outfit maybe? Was that too forward? Too shallow? Maybe he could find common ground? That was as good a place to start as any.

“So! So uhh…What kind of music do you like?” Roman asked. Yeah, that’s good. Everybody likes music.

Logan glanced at him. “Can you be more specific?”

Roman’s brow furrowed. “I mean, like, your favorite genre of music to listen to?”

“Classical,” said Logan in a clipped tone.

“That’s cool. I don’t really listen to classical myself.”

Logan only hummed, his face neutral. Roman was really hoping for more than that. A few awkward seconds passed, then Logan spoke up.

“Are you perhaps a fan of the classic Sherlock Holmes novels?” He inquired.

“Um, I haven’t gotten around to the books yet, actually,” Roman said, scratching his earlobe. “I mean, I’ve heard great things about them. And I’m a big fan of the Robert Downey Jr. movies.”

“Ah. I see.” Logan said, giving him the judgiest side eye.

Come on, Roman thought. Give me something to work with. “Oh! What about theater?”

“What a frustratingly vague inquiry.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to get to know my soulmate a little better.” Ay come jode, work with me here, man!

Logan sighed. “While I understand and appreciate your intention, I believe ‘getting to know someone’ as you put it, requires a certain level of specificity. Anything less indicates a somewhat shallow level of sincere interest, and I greatly despise shallow conversation. That said, if you’re inquiring as to whether or not I enjoy theater, no. I don’t understand the concept of professional make believe, though I appreciate it as an art form. I assume you’re a fan?”

Is he seriously implying I’m shallow? Roman groused, pushing his red frames up the bridge of his nose. Ugh, forget it Roman. He’s throwing you a bone here. Take it.

“Obviously,” said Roman, gesturing dramatically. “I mean I’m no actor—Eesh. No. Yikes—but everything about the artform enthralls me. And I like all kinds of genres and eras of plays, from Shakespear to Ruhl, but musicals are by far my favorite, because like, there’s so much you can do with them design wise. I mean just look at how groundbreaking Hamilton was.”

For a second, Logan’s face actually softened, his eyes lighting up. But just as Roman thought they were finally about to make some progress, his stony companion was back to wearing that platinum puss.

“Ah. How… original.”

Roman blinked. “Are you saying my tastes are basic?”

“Well, yes.”

Augh! Okay. Yep. I don’t like him. Patton was going to be so disappointed, and Roman was too. He’d wanted so badly to get along with all his soulmates, but Logan was a snob! Way less intimidating than Virgil and his ilk, but still a jerk. I wonder if soulmarks can make typos or something? Thank the stars they’d already arrived.

Roman and Logan filed in with the rest of the class for seventh period. Somebody had the liberty of opening a window– the AC was still busted in this classroom– so for once there was actually a decent breeze cutting through the usual mucky Florida humidity. Still smelled like it would probably rain later. Good thing Roman had packed an umbrella just in case, Mom’s orders. His hair looked too good today to be wrecked by frizz.

Roman took a seat at his desk, running distracted fingers over the carved letters in the wood while he mulled over his predicament. Just look at him over there, thought Roman as he glared at Logan, not two rows away from him. Sitting with his hands clasped on the desk all smug—of course he’d be near the front—and with such disturbingly good posture. What is he, a robot? Who is he to call my interests basic, the NERVE! And okay, sure, like Hamilton, sometimes I get over excited and shoot off at the mouth. But great Zeus, does that guy show passion for ANYTHING besides academics? Roman blew a raspberry, plopping his head in his hands.

He always thought soulmates were supposed to get along, even as just friends for life. Balancing each other out, bringing out the best in you and forming a deep connection—that was the whole point. He sighed to himself. Cymbals clashed less than he and Logan did.

He was stirred from his brooding by the bell. Apparently Mr. ‘Call-me-Terrence’ Williams had materialized without him noticing. Okay fine, he should probably pay more attention, but he was having a crisis here.

“Afternoon everyone,” Terrence greeted in that measured, upbeat tone of his.  

He draped his navy blue blazer over the back of his desk chair and rolled his shirt sleeves to the elbows. Roman pitied the poor guy;  he had to teach sauna of a classroom all day. He could see the glisten of sweat on his teacher's smooth forehead as he wrote things on the board. Yet he still kept a pleasant attitude towards his students.

“Alright class!” Terrence started, “Today we’re covering the next section on the American Revolution. Specifically, the Battle of Yorktown...”

Roman mentally punched the air. My time has come. He opened his textbook to the right page but didn’t bother looking at it. He already knew most everything about Yorktown. Not just because he’d listened to the Hamilton soundtrack fifteen and a half million times, but also because he’d done actual research on the event and time period that the musical took place; There was always the off chance he’d get to stage crew or, heck, even dramaturg the show. He liked to be prepared.

“So the battle of Yorktown took place in 1781, but a great deal of its success was thanks to the French Allies. Many especially aided in fighting the British Troops surrounding New York. Now who can tell me where the French Soldiers first landed?”

Roman half raised his hand. He was pretty sure he knew the answer.

“Logan.” Terrence called.

Roman turned to Logan desk, where his hand was held high and mighty.

“The French Ally ships first landed in Rhode Island, then made their way to Chesapeake Bay,” said Logan, adjusting his glasses. Not even a hint of second guessing in his voice.

“That’s right!”

He almost missed the quick smirk on Logan’s frustratingly pretty face. Look at that smug—thinks he’s so smart...Okay yes, he is smart, but he doesn’t have to be a show off about it. Terrence continued through the passages, calling on a student every now and again to review. Of course, Logan got called on most and he got every answer right. Roman didn’t feel like raising his hand anymore.

“Of course there were many turning points in the revolution, but Hamilton’s return to the field for Yorktown was a key point.” Terrence continued on. “And keep in mind- this was a man who up till now had never been in a position of command before. Not to mention the mental strains he must’ve been under, especially having had to miss the birth of his son Philip, the first of three children he had.”

Wait a sec. “Well, that’s not right.”

Even though he’d muttered, apparently Mr. Terrence still heard him. “Come again, Roman?”

Shoot. “Um, I said,” Stop sounding timid, you know you’re right. “I said that was, um, wrong.”

The whole class turned to him. Oh great, history class has its eyes on me. Roman cleared his throat and tried to look taller.

“What I mean is: Hamilton had eight kids, not three. And on top of that, Phillip was born a few months after they won the Revolution, not during, so Hamilton didn’t miss the birth of his son. I mean sure, it’s a small thing, but the devil’s in the details as they say. Heh.”

Terrence gave the most insultingly bemused look. And Roman definitely heard a few kids snickering behind him. He glanced quickly at the culprits and felt his ears go hot. This is what he got for putting himself in the spotlight.

“Roman, I applaud you for participating in the class discussion,” Their teacher started gently, “but I’m afraid you’re wrong on this one. If you read your textbook close you’d see in the fifth paragraph where it mentions from one of his later letters—“

“Actually Mr. Williams, if I may, Roman is correct.”

Roman saw Logan at his desk, one hand raised while the other adjusted his neck scarf. Was the teacher’s pet actually… backing him up?

“It is a common misconception that Alexander Hamilton only had two children, even more so modernly, what with the musical having only named two of them. However Roman has clearly done his research on the plays historical accuracies, which is more than I can say for some.”

Logan shot a cool but scathing look at their recently snickering classmates and they withered. Roman fought the urge to point and laugh aloud. He did however stick his tongue out real quick. What? He could be shy and petty at the same time.

“My guess,” Logan continued, “is that this textbook edition is also either misprinted or outdated, judging by the publication date in the copyright section.”

Brows furrowed, Terrence looked at the textbook laid open on his desk. He flipped back to the front, before pulling out his cellphone—“I’m the teacher, I’m allowed to do this. You guys aren’t.”—and after what Roman guessed was a quick Google search, their teacher looked up. His eyebrows drawn in a ‘hm, well damn’ expression.

“Looks like you’re right, Roman. And thank you Logan for bringing to my attention about the textbooks. I’ll have to talk to the principal about hopefully getting some updated materials. But we’ll see how that goes,” Terrence, muttered the last part, though Roman was close enough to catch it. Terrence cleared his throat and moved back to the board. “Maybe if we call on assistance from the inside. Much like how the Sons of Liberty sent in Hercules Mulligan to spy on the British...”

“Perhaps if we knew of an immigrant who was unafraid to step in,” Logan said just under his breath.

No one else seemed to notice the reference, but when Roman did, he felt like a mini volcano about to burst rainbow lava. Apparently there was a lot more to his soulmate than first meets the eye; and now that he knew, Roman was determined to see more of it. The rest of class passed quickly and everyone filed out to the halls as the first bell for the last class period of the day rang. Roman made sure to catch up to Logan on the way out and staccato tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Logan?” He said.

When Logan turned, he swore time slowed down for a moment. The brilliant boy’s skirt flared around his waist, and somehow his skin glowed even under the dull, inconsistent school lights. His posture was erect yet natural, he could have been raised among nobility. Amidst the stench and clamor of loud sweaty students, Logan was as poised and striking as the goddess Athena. Oh...

“Yes, Roman?” Logan asked.

Roman gulped. “I uh, just wanted to thank you for backing me up in there.”

“Thanks are unnecessary,” Logan said. “I detest when someone is shamed by other students for speaking up in class, regardless of whether or not they have the correct information.”

“Well regardless, thanks for coming to my aid in the face of academic danger.”

“Dramatic, but my pleas—oof!”

A hurried passerby bumped into Logan from behind, rushing off with a half-assed ‘sorry’. Logan, caught off guard, stumbled right into Roman’s arms. The two looked at each other, cheeks filling with heat. Roman caught a whiff of something faintly floral on Logan, something natural– a lavender and honeysuckle perfume, perhaps. It was heavenly. They were still in the middle of foot traffic though, so he maneuvered them to the side. Which was tricky since Logan was still so close to him and also a good two inches taller with the heels.

“Well,” Roman flashed his pearly whites. “Seems you’ve fallen for me.”

Logan pulled away, but his lips quirked upwards in a teasing smirk. “Oh please, I merely stumbled into you.”

“Ah, but stumbling is the first step towards being swept off your feet.”

“Bold words from an abashedly charming homunculus in such an… eye catching ensemble.”

Did he call me charming!? He composed himself, “Hey, don’t let the sweater vest fool you. I may be short but I’ve got guns.”

“Aaah. But mind over muscle, as they say. Do you find yourself up to the task?”

“Only if it’s you, my brainy blossom.”

Roman’s class was in the other direction, but Logan didn’t need to know that. They walked through the halls, conversing. class was still in the next ten or so minutes, but Roman was having fun. Banter with Logan felt surprisingly easy. Natural like they’d been at it all their lives.

“By the way, was that a ‘Guns n’ Ships’ reference I overheard, pastel poindexter?” Roman asked.

Logan cleared his throat. “It… may have been, yes. I found myself unable to resist toppling the figurative dominos.”

“In other words, you seized the opportunity you saw,” Roman said, matching his own reference to the source’s cadence, which got a chuckle out of Logan.

“Precisely. Under more casual circumstances, I may have even recited Lafayette’s part.”

“You can rap? You can rap Guns n’ Ships? Like, the whole thing, no tongue twists?”

Logan stopped for a moment, turned to Roman. The taller boy cleared his throat, and after a moment wherein he seemed to mentally restrain himself, he simply adjusted his glasses.  “I have an appreciation for poetry.”

Roman blinked rapidly. Holy shit, he’s an even bigger nerd than I am. He definitely needed to see that at some point.

They turned a corner, stopping just outside of the science room. Some students were going in to take their seats, and the teacher was already making notes on the board. Logan pulled an AP Physics book from his backpack, but made no move to leave, much to Roman’s delight.

“So then,” Roman leaned against the eggshell wall, “How come you acted so indifferent earlier and called my tastes basic? Oh, and I think I remember you also implied I was shallow?”

Okay, yeah, he was still kind of salty about that. But then he saw the shamed look on the nerd’s face, and Roman wished he could have taken it back. Logan looked at his shoes then back at him.

“To be candid I was… hesitant to show the full extent of my enthusiasm. In case you thought I’d be—I believe ‘being the most’ is the term— it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve caused someone to lose interest in conversing with me due to informational overload. I nearly bored my Aunt Patricia to sleep once talking about a fascinating article on jellyfish. And considering how I blundered our initial meeting—“

“Pfft, ya think?” He mentally slapped himself again when Logan went tight-lipped and turned to go. “No, no, wait. I—I’m sorry. Truly. ...Truth is, I was no gentleman either. I’m not always great at thinking before I speak. It’s why I’m so awkward around people. Takes a while for my true charming nature to shine through.”

“Clearly. Still, you show a level of interpersonal aptitude that I, well, lack.” Logan fiddled with his hair pin again and a stray hair came loose. “Reading people and expressing emotions has never really been—It’s something I struggle with.”

Much as Logan tried to maintain his cool composed posturing, Roman could tell that this was something that really bothered him. He tried so hard to seem put together and confident and serious, but really he was just as awkward and insecure as anyone. Roman smiled softly and stepped closer to Logan, reaching up to tuck the loose ebony strand behind his ear.

“Hey, everyone’s got things about themselves they can work on. Including me,” Roman smiled. “And believe me when I say that I will never judge you for being passionate about something you like. So if you ever want someone to ramble about jellyfish or Sweeney Todd to or—I dunno, calculators or something?—I’m all ears.”

Logan’s cheeks went pink and he gave a hesitant yet sincere smile. “That’s...very kind of you, Roman. And coincidentally, I also greatly enjoy Sweeney Todd. The use of iambic pentameter and alliteration to give a succinct synopsis to the story in just the first sentence alone is pure brilliance.”

“Right!? I mean the man’s a mad genius. I’m dying to design sets for one of his musicals someday. Like last year? I came up with the concept of having the Sweeney Todd sets done in a way that highlights the class differences with the characters.” Roman went into a small three minute ramble regarding the specifics before he cut himself off abruptly. Logan was blinking rapidly, a look of mild shock crossing his feature. Roman nearly started sweating; Had he messed this up again?

“That… that’s ingenious”

Roman’s ears were burning. Ohmygosh!Ohmygosh!Ohmygosh!

“Hey, Logan!” They both startled and turned to an impatient cheerleader with a ginger undercut and they/them pronoun pin shaped like a coffin. “What’re you doing just standing out in the hall, ya dork? Oh, hey Roman.”

“Uh. Hey, October,” Roman said, waving awkwardly to them.

“I told ya, Red, you only get to call me that when we’re working on a show.”

“Wait, October? Red? You two know each other?” Logan asked, brow arching.

“Kind of. They sometimes help out with costumes for the drama club,” said Roman. And they have terrible timing. I mean seriously Tobes, we were having a moment.

“Come on Lo, class is about to start, and you promised to go over my homework with me real quick beforehand. See ya ‘round, Ro.” Toby grabbed Logan’s hand and pulled him into the classroom. “You can fill me in on what you were doing with Red later.”

Logan followed his—apparently—friend into their classroom, but he shot Roman an apologetic look over his shoulder. Roman bounced a bit on the balls of his feet before following halfway into the room. Logan was in his seat with Toby showing him an open notebook. A teacher in a tight grey hair bun was writing on the board. Students at their seats were chatting, and some looked up at the short dork in red who burst in. For once Roman ignored them, his mind set on one last attempt at wooing his green skirted genius while he still had the nerve.

“Hey, Logan,” he said. “I’ve also got some great layout designs for an Into the Woods set. If you’re interested, maybe we can meet up after school and I can show them to you? Maybe we talk a bit more over iced lattes or something?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Prince, seventh period starts in five minutes,” said the teacher. “Unless you’ve suddenly transferred to my class, I suggest you stop distracting my favorite student and get going.”

“I’ll be gone in just a second,” he said. “Well?”

Logan smoothed the silky fabric of his pink scarf and said, “That sounds optimal, Roman. I’ll meet with you. By the first floor water fountain perhaps?”

Roman grinned. “I shall be counting the minutes.”

“Mr. Prince,” said the teacher with a warning glare.

Roman blew a kiss at Logan and then ducked out of the doorway. Was he embarrassed of himself? Oh definitely. Did he regret it? Absolutely not. He felt ten inches tall.

Now to complete the quest of making it to class in time. He slid off a shoulder strap to unzip his classic Mickey backpack, getting out the notebook and the relevant homework. He found them amidst the mess of spiral notebooks, granola bar wrappers, two textbooks and rainbow sticky notes. But something was missing from his folder.

“Where are those– it should be here.” He could’ve sworn he had his stapled the blocking notes in his folder. No, wait, the last place he saw them was— “Ah shoot! I left them in the tech closet again.”

Under normal circumstances, Roman would’ve grabbed them after school, but the auditorium was locked on weekends. He’d have to wait till Monday to get them and that just wouldn't do! he wanted to show Logan his notes today! I’ll bet David Korins never has these kinds of problems. Okay, okay. Still got four minutes. He could rush to the auditorium, grab the notes, and then head straight to class. I should have enough time, right? Right. Besides it was only Spanish Class, he was already pretty fluent after all those summers visiting his grandparent in Nicaragua. He spent most of class time dreaming up blocking notes anyway.

Despite not being totally convinced by his own argument, Roman immediately turned on his heel and started running in the opposite direction. After a teacher told him no running in the halls, Roman power walked through the halls with a skip in his step and a song in his heart, feeling absolutely gay in both senses of the word. Logan had actually called his idea ingenious! And the way those sharp eyes softened just for him- he would squeal if not for the fact that it would draw too many eyes to him. The halls were still filled with a few stragglers rushing to the last class of the day, and he was already trying not to get caught being late for class.

Now he knew how Maria felt in West Side Story. Y’know, before Act 2. Oh sure, they’d gotten off to a shaky start, but as the Bard’s adage on the course of true love said; and Roman felt it in his gut that this was certainly the start of true love. Not just with brilliant Logan but also with soulful Patton as well. He didn’t know how an awkward geek like him ever got so lucky in the soulmate department…Then again, there was still the matter of Virgil. So maybe not so lucky.

Roman touched his arm, remembered flustered yet flattering purple words. I know they both said Virgil is secretly sweet and I can sympathize with the terrors of closet town, but COME ON! Virgil? Really? That gloomy gladiator? There had to be a mistake in that. After all, Patton liked to see the good in everyone. Logan was much more of a skeptic, but he does seem to have a blind spot with sarcasm. Maybe Virgil was messing with them somehow. Even if he’s not a jerk jock, the guy’s still kind of a creepazoid; with his dark eyes and cheeta-esq gait and those probably huge muscles hidden under that bulky jacket and big hands...

His gay disaster train of thought came to a merciful halt as he reached the auditorium. Roman pushed open the doors, took a pause to breathe in the quiet comfort of this chapel of the arts. Okay yeah, chapel was maybe a little kind for the school’s auditorium which doubled as the drama Club’s rehearsal space/prop closet backstage/Mx Joan’s unofficial office because the school didn’t fund the arts programs enough. Even so this space was Roman’s sanctuary. The place where he could help create magic from the shadows, bring stories of those gone and living to life. Here, Roman found something of a community with his fellow backstagers, glee club losers, and budding thespians (the nice ones). So he loved every squeaky stage plank, every duck taped seat cushion and every speck of dust that floated in the spot lit air like fairies.

Mx. Joan wasn’t around for once, thankfully. Probably in the teacher’s lounge or rendezvousing with the school nurse or something. They were pretty chill and Roman knew he was their favorite student, but the choir director/drama club moderator/music teacher (this school really needs to fix its funding habits) wouldn’t have been too keen on Roman being deliberately late for class.

Roman walked down the aisle and to the side room by the stage. It was originally a janitor’s closet, but their club moderator transformed it into a ‘Crew Only’ Storage Unit… Okay it was still a closet, but with less bleach and more coils. This was where they kept important equipment for semester shows, like the lighting and sound boards, along with other supplies. Roman made a quick mental note to get more gaffer tape later, seeing their supply was low.

He looked through the small pile of scribbled and highlighted sheets with the lighting cues for the spring show. I’ve really gotta get a binder for these…Ah-Ha! Here you are! Roman pulled out the stapled sheets titled ‘Into the Woods Dream Set’ and carefully shoved them into his bag. Perfect timing too. He might just be able to make it to class after—

RIIIIIIIIIIING

“GAH!”

What the heck? He could’ve sworn he was alone in there, but that yelp just now said otherwise. Up close, Roman saw that the curtains were rustling, accompanied by sounds of heavy breathing and moaning, yet not a footstep to be seen or heard.

Holy SHIT, this place IS haunted! I KNEW that backdrop fiasco last semester wasn’t caused by cheap slit plywood. My supplies are the best quality allowance money can buy. Great Macbeth’s bloody knife, I TOLD Kai we should've sprung for a ghost light! Remus always teased him for being superstitious but look who’s laughing now.

He dashed back into the crew closet and grabbed the heavy push broom leaning in the corner. Roman Prince was NOT about to be caught unawares and possessed by the ghost of a disgruntled student without a fight. He would defend his domain of imagination!

Roman slowly climbed the stage steps, wielding his broom like a bow staff, turned the curtain corner where the noises were coming from and was about to release a war cry on the—

“Virgil?”

Roman nearly dropped his weapon at the sight of Virgil Alighieri—star athlete, object of his fears and supposed soulmate—curled in on himself trembling and crying.

His jacket was pulled over his head like a hood, yet Roman could see the tear stained face peeking out from underneath. Virgil’s eyes were squeezed tight, making the dark circles he’d never noticed before more prominent. There was no denying the athlete had muscle but he was more lithe—thin enough for Roman to wonder if the guy ate enough. Virgil’s trembling could rival a chihuahua, shaky hands clutching his knees, and he was clearly in the midst of a bad panic attack.

Roman had built Virgil up in his mind as being like some odd combination of Hades and Ares. The strong silent wolf within his pack of jocks, a surging thunderstorm just waiting for the right nerd to come along and piss him off enough to strike down like the bolt of Zeus.

Someone to be afraid of.

But now? Seeing him in this state, all alone and whimpering like a wounded animal...it broke Roman’s heart.

He set the broom down gently and carefully crouched down in front of Virgil. “Virgil,” he said softly. “Virgil, can you hear me?”

Virgil let out a breathy sob but otherwise didn’t seem to register him. Just how long had he been sitting here like this?

Roman was at a loss for what to do. Sure he knew plenty of people with anxiety but never saw someone having an actual panic attack before. He did know that if he didn’t help the other calm down soon, Virgil was liable to pass out. He’d never wanted to hug someone so badly in his life. Roman tentatively reached out a hand but stopped. What if touching him makes it worse? What if I startle him so badly he actually has a heart attack!? Maybe I should get the nurse. But I can’t just leave him like this.

He caught sight of the colorful soulmarks written on Virgil’s arm. Saw his own harsh thoughts: ’Dios mio, he’s staring right at me—like he wants to punch my face!’ 

Roman took his shame and forged it into steel. I won’t abandon you...my soulmate.

Virgirl’s let out a hiccuped cry, and this gave Roman an idea. Something from back when he was a child. It was probably stupid and a long stretch, but it was all he could think of. He readjusted himself so that he was now sitting right next to Virgil, making sure not to startle him. Roman cleared his throat, then as softly as he could, he began to sing.

“Come stop your crying, it’ll be alright.

Just take my hand, hold it tight.”

Roman one and carefully gentled his hand over Virgil’s. After a moment, he felt a light squeeze, and that encouraged him to keep going.

“I will protect you from all around you.

I will be here, don’t you cry…”

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[prettywordsyouleft]

Heaven

Prompt: #163 for @jinseunie​ – “Oh I didn’t realise you’re dead.”

jinseunie said:

hmmm 163. it seems like it could go many ways 👀

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

Genre: university au / friends to lovers / fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 1878

Groaning, you threw yourself down on Jinyoung’s bed, thumping the bed once and then you stilled completely. If you stopped breathing, you wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore.

No more bad grades.

No more botched confessions to Mark Tuan.

And definitely no more gaining weight when you strayed from your diet to binge on chocolate after point one and two occurred.

“And hello to you too,” Jinyoung dryly greeted, not even moving from his desk to check on you.

“I’m dead, don’t bother me,” you spoke from within his pillow, wondering if you tried hard enough if you could actually become one with the furniture.

“Oh, I didn’t realise you’re dead,” your best friend continued, closing what sounded like a book and then pushed his chair back. “The dead sure can move into my dorm room quickly. Did you even use the door or did you apparate here?”

“Not funny.”

“Nor is your interruption. What do you want?”

Scowling as you finally lifted your head out from his pillow, you were met back with a similar look from Jinyoung. You huffed indignantly. “Even my best friend can’t help me in my time of need.”

“I asked what you wanted.”

“Peace. To escape. Everything’s a mess.”

“That’s not surprising when it comes to you,” he agreed and you gaped at Jinyoung, sitting up and pointing at him.

“Don’t you have a conscious?!”

“I have a conscious desire to kick you out when I’m trying to study for my thesis,” he bit back and you flung your legs off the bed and stood up, waggling a finger in his direction.

“Never ask me for help again!”

“When have I asked you for any?” Jinyoung questioned and you opened your mouth, only to close it. You repeated this until a smug smile crossed his lips. “Because I don’t live in a dramatic world like you do.”

“Sue me for having more going for me!”

He glowered and you cringed. “Take it back or get out.”

“Okay, so fine. You’re stable, I’m not. That’s what you like about us anyway. When you feel like being reckless you can rely on me. And when I need grounding, you’re always there. So ground me. Or I might just float off to heaven right now.” Jinyoung smirked. “Are you sure you’d end up there?”

“Stop berating me and be a friend, Park Jinyoung! I need you, okay!”

“Fine.” Throwing a leg over the other, Jinyoung folded his arms across his chest and waited expectantly.

You took a deep breath and began to relay your issues.

It wasn’t as if you hadn’t tried to solve them yourself first. You had asked for the extension on your assignment, given you had a family emergency, but that hadn’t been accepted. And like the evil witch she was, your lecturer hadn’t even taken into account the grievances you had faced and submitted alongside your essay.

She had left a less than stellar C- on the grading slot, the worst mark you had ever received.

Afterwards, you had misread the situation with your crush, blurting out in the cafeteria that you liked him. Mark had brushed you off politely, if rejection could ever be described as such.

When that was all said and done, you had eaten so much chocolate as you cried that you had felt sick for the entire following day.

Even if you told yourself you deserved better, you had concluded that it was in your nature to suffer like this. Another season of poor results both personally and academically.

You feared what it would be like when you left this institution and failed to get a job in the industry you wanted to, starving out on the street because you couldn’t even afford rent.

Jinyoung merely sat there when you had finished and then rolled his eyes. “As if you would starve.”

“I could!”

“You would mooch off of me.”

“Mooch?! I’m having a crisis and you play me like this?”

“You’re as dramatic as Jackson can be. Why didn’t you confess to him instead?” Jinyoung quipped and you groaned.

“You don’t take me seriously!”

“Because you don’t care to do the same for yourself, Y/N. You are acting like it’s the end of the world. You almost failed Math in high school but here you are studying in one of the best universities. Not only that, but you also received multiple acceptance letters and got to choose where you went. Not everyone is that lucky.”

“Only because of my creative writing. I’m on a scholarship, in case you’ve forgotten. A C-minus affects that!”

“So make a more rigid study program. You can recover with the next essay if you put in enough effort. You are good at working under pressure. Show that witch what you’re worth.”

“You think?”

Jinyoung sighed heavily. “As for Mark, how many times did I tell you he’s not interested in dating anyone? He merely hooks up with girls. And you let him hook up with you that one time and got it into your head you could change him.”

“Well, he was kind to me afterwards.”

“Who burns a bridge they could cross again if they need to?” Jinyoung retorted and your mouth fell ajar.

“Don’t eat so much chocolate next time. Go for a run or even a walk. Exercise will not only clear your mind but allow you to feel the same effect.”

“How does exercise comfort you?”

“One, your body won’t hate you for too much of it,” he pointed out and you nodded glumly. “And why didn’t you tell me any of this until now?”

“Because you told me not to interrupt you studying for your thesis.” Jinyoung’s eyebrow shot up with amusement as he gestured to your presence now. You laughed awkwardly. “I needed you.”

“Do you?” he asked softly, turning back for his desk. “I don’t know if you truly need me.”

“Who else is going to save me from starving on the streets?” you attempted loosely, noticing he didn’t laugh back. “Jinyoung?”

“One, I got a good grade on my last assignment but I never got excited about it like you do. Two, I’ve never confessed about how I feel for anyone because I worry they won’t like me the way I do them. Three, maybe chocolate isn’t so bad. At least you let your emotions out whilst eating it.”

“Why are you talking me up like this? I’d much rather be like you.”

Jinyoung smiled wistfully. “The feeling’s mutual.”

“You want to hook up with Mark Tuan?” you offered and Jinyoung rolled his eyes. Moving over to hug your best friend, you smiled encouragingly at him. “If you want chocolate, I’ll give you my stash. I’m on a no chocolate month.”

“You won’t last a week.”

“Give me credit, I could last two,” you corrected with a laugh, nestling your head into his chest. As his arms encased your body firmly, you sighed in content. This is what you had come here for. If there was one person on this earth that you knew could make you feel better and less erratic as he held you, it was Jinyoung.

You wouldn’t trade him in for anything this world had to offer.

Nuzzling his broad chest until you found the perfect spot for your head to rest, you smiled. “Jinyoung, you should confess when you feel strongly about people. Anyone would be grateful to have such an amazing human as their partner.”

“Even you?”

“Of course! I’m the luckiest person right now since I’m in your arms. I bet there’s a bunch of girls who would love to be in my position just waiting for their chance.”

“I don’t want them though,” he murmured. “Just you.”

“Well, here I am,” you answered, renewing your hugging position and sighing again with the comfort. However, Jinyoung stopped breathing and his chest turned rigid. You looked up at him. “What is it?”

“I want you,” he repeated, smiling softly. “I’ve never confessed because you always friend-zone me.”

“Wait, what?”

“I like you. Have for years. Who else would put up with how your mood swings from one end of the scale to the other? You’re crazy, Y/N. But you’re my crazy. Of course, I wouldn’t let you suffer because I’m always thinking about you.”

“Oh.”

“Are you going to reject me politely now?” Jinyoung edged, his dark eyes now removing the vulnerable expression that had resided there with his confession.

“Why are you always so slow when it comes to things like this?!” you complained and Jinyoung frowned. “I crushed on you so badly when I was ten. I even cried to my Mum about how handsome you were and how ugly I was!”

“You have never been ugly, Y/N.”

“And then you took Lisa to the formal instead of me in our first year at high school. Do you know how upset I was with you?! I had been hinting at you to buy a purple tie for it for three months all because my dress was purple!”

“You did?” Jinyoung started to frown.

You stomped your foot in annoyance. “And after finally getting over my crush on you since I’m now an adult and shouldn’t keep thinking of you that way, you confess?! Wow, why is my life like this.”

“I’m still trying to understand about you liking me first. That’s impossible. I know you inside and out.”

“I have loved you for years!” Letting him go, you waved your arms around excessively. “Why are you telling me this now?!”

“Will you not accept it?”

“Of course I will, but ugh, I’m just a mess! Back then I had the excuse of still growing up if you so much as liked me back. What can I give you now?!”

“Honestly?” Jinyoung breathed and shook his head, his lips spreading into a smile. Taking you back in his arms, he held you firmly. “Your heart, that’s what you can give me.”

“That’s all you want? What about an elegant partner who doesn’t disappoint you and isn’t clumsily making her way through life?”

“If I wanted all that, would I love you as much as I do?” Jinyoung teased and you thumped his arm as he chuckled into you. “Oh, I do want one other thing.”

“What?” you asked dejectedly and then blinked as Jinyoung’s hand curled around your chin so you would look up at him. You began to pout.

“Stop pouting and kiss me,” he instructed, leaning in to meet your lips. It wasn’t your first kiss; that you had given him in a game of truth or dare when you were thirteen.

But unlike that one, which had been a little more than a peck, this one continued until he had stolen your breath entirely.

Panting, Jinyoung pulled away and then rested his forehead on yours. He smiled. “Still feeling like life is hopeless and you need to give up?”

“Hm?” You blinked a few times and then smiled giddily. “You need to not let me go. I’m certain this time I will float away to heaven if you keep kissing me like that.”

“Even if you go there, I’ll be right beside you,” he confirmed, leaning in to kiss you again.

_________________

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[toothpastecanyon]

A Name From the Mailbox, Chapter 2

Dipper finds out the author's name before Not What He Seems. It's not the person he expected.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

The Gravity Falls Public Library. Dipper didn’t find himself going here as often as he’d thought he would. Sure, there were books, but whoever the librarian was they certainly weren’t stacking them in any kind of system; it was impossible to find anything you were looking for besides dusty magazines heaped up on coffee tables.

But for all the library’s shortcomings, it did have one thing the Shack didn’t. It had computers.

“Is that a dial up sound, Dipper?”

He shrugged at his sister. “Maybe? I dunno what that sounds like.” He sat back. “Wish it’d load faster. Ugh, I swear these things are cursed to be slow or something like that.”

“Oooo, curses!”

“Just need to wait for it to load…” Dipper took out a notebook. “If I can’t have the journal, fine. I don’t need that. I don’t need him. I’ll find it out myself.”

“You’re muttering, bro bro.” Mabel poked his face. “So what’re we looking up, anyway? I thought you said all the websites for magic stuff are ‘unnacurate’ and ‘disturbing’.”

“It’s innacurate actually, Mabel.” He pushed her hand away as the computer finally loaded. “And I’m not looking for Gravity Falls stuff. I’m looking for Stan.”

“What’s he doing on the internet? I don’t think he knows what it is.”

Dipper started typing. “No, but maybe we can find out something about him on there.”

“Ooo, like secrets!”

“Yeah, like secrets.” Dipper made a face as he put in ‘Mystery Shack Gravity Falls’ and got a few sites with mixed reviews. “Oh you gotta look at this, Mabel. Someone wrote, ‘A friend recommended I bring my family here. We spent five minutes inside, and in that time the owner charged an exorbitant entrance fee, scared my children with some horrific taxidermied duck-rat thing, and then made up some fake ‘early exit charge’ when we tried to leave! We are pretty sure he picked our pockets too, but the police in this town are useless. I’m out a wallet and a friend.”

Mabel giggled. “I’m pretty sure Stan has no idea about these! Oh, this one’s from when I was boss! Ahem, ‘The last time I was here an old man was giving the tour, but when we came by the manager appeared to be a young girl. Everything appeared to be slightly destroyed too? When I asked for a refund because part of the roof fell on me, she told me to shut my yap. Other than that, great as always. Love the money bag.” She gave a fist pump. “Aww yes, I got us a five out of five! Let’s read more, this is fun!”

“Actually, Mabel, we’ve gotta keep looking.”

“Awww.”

Dipper tapped on the keyboard. “Okay, I guess the Mystery Shack doesn’t turn up much. How about… just his name?”

He typed that in, and sat back as it loaded.

“Alright, Stan. Let’s see what you’re hiding…”

______________________________________________________________

It was late at night when Stan snuck his way back into the Shack. He opened the front door as quietly as he could, and shut it behind himself, making a face at every creek. He took off his black mask, his leather gloves, and stashed them under the register before moving to the blinds. He kept a close eye on the parking lot as he drew them closed; it didn’t look like he’d been followed.

Ugh. Stan didn’t like messing with the feds, but it wasn’t like anyone else had any radioactive waste handy. He’d scope out the place a few more times, just to be safe… but that was for another night.

With a big sigh, Stan headed over to the vending machine. He raised his arm to input the code, but something told him to look around first. His eye caught on a small darkness on the base of the staircase, and he paused a second before pressing the code for a candy bar. He picked it up, unwrapped it, and munched on it as he headed for the living room.

“Grunkle Stan.”

There it is. He turned on the light.

“Oh, hey Dipper. Having fun standing in the dark like that?”

Dipper had his arms crossed. “You’re out late.”

“Yeah, ’cause I’m old and I do what I want.” He sank into the chair. “What’s up, kid? If you’re gonna ask for your journal back you’re gonna be disappointed.”

“No, that’s not why I’m here.” He pointed to a large stack of papers on the side table. “I found this.”

“Huh? Oh, you didn’t use the copier, did you? Paper’s expensive, kid.”

“No, I printed it out at the library.” He made a face. “It was like twenty dollars. Now look!”

“Ugh, I already sat down, kid. Can’t we- Oof!” He grunted as the pile was dumped in his lap. “Watch it, that’s a lot of paper! You’re gonna have to summarise whatever this is, because I am not-”

“It’s your thesis, Grunkle Stan!”

Grunkle Stan paused, and looked up at Dipper. He looked very, very serious, and he came a step closer.

“Well?”

“Well… well what? Thesis?” Stan tried to stand up, but the papers kept him down. “I don’t know what you mean, Dipper. Seriously, I’ve never seen this before in my life-”

“You wrote it!”

“What?”

“Look!” He grabbed the top page and stabbed a finger at the author line. “Stanford Pines! All summer long you said you didn’t even go to college, but you’ve got a PhD! You wrote a thesis about anomalous sightings in the western United States! Admit it - you are the author!”

Stan found himself shrinking back; he had a bad feeling he wasn’t going to be able to brush this off. “Wh-where’d you even get that from?”

“I found your college online. Apparently they’re still writing about your thesis since it’s the only nationally ranked one in their history.” Dipper clicked his pen. “You’re, you’re a genius, Grunkle Stan! I-I have so many questions, like why didn’t you tell us? Why’d you stop writing the journals? Where are the other two?”

“I… I…” He took a deep breath. He had to get control of this. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, ki-”

“Oh come on-”

“I don’t! Look, there’s obviously been some kind of mix up, it’s not like Stan Pines is a rare name-”

“Already thought of that.” Dipper held up an article. “I found this piece about how you used your grant money to build the Mystery Shack. It’s even got a photo - it’s you.”

It was a gutpunch to see Stanford’s college photo shoved in his face, but he tried to swallow it. “Kid-”

“I don’t understand why you won’t just admit it. I know you don’t want us messing with the supernatural, but all summer long I’ve been reading your journal, trying to solve the mysteries of this town. The author was a huge one - I-I was kind of worried I’d never find out, or I’d find out he was dead or something, but it’s you!” He grinned. “And now I know, we can work together! You don’t have to keep pretending! You can trust me with this!”

Stan looked down at his nephew’s face, and gave a deep sigh. There was no easy way out of this. With a bit of struggle, he hefted the thesis off his lap and onto the floor, then put a hand on Dipper’s shoulder.

“Dipper, listen. I’m not the author.” Stan saw him open his mouth and quickly continued. “I’m not, okay? I know you like your mysteries, but just this once, could you please just take my word on this one?” He made a face. “I don’t want you or your sister getting hurt. So just forget about it, okay?”

Dipper frowned at him, and for a moment Stan didn’t think that was gonna work - it was a long shot, anyway. But then something seemed to click in his mind, and he stepped back.

“Forget…” he said. “Grunkle Stan, do you know about the Society of the Blind Eye?”

“The what?”

“It’s-“ He reached under his arm and rolled his eyes when he realized there was no journal. “Ugh, I’ll draw it.”

He grabbed a paper from the pile and started sketching something out. Stan stood there, a little confused.

“Sounds like a cult. Did you join a cult? Ugh, your folks are gonna kill me.”

“It’s this!” Dipper shoved a paper in his face - a crossed out eye, a symbol Stan remembered seeing somewhere in the journals. “Have you seen this before?”

“Kid-”

“Ugh, that doesn’t prove anything, though. You might’ve forgotten that too.” He clicked his pen, and then took off for the stairs. “I’ll be back!”

“Where do you think you’re going?” Stan called out, but he was already gone. He threw his hands up in the air. “Great. Perfect. Hey, can you come back down and explain what all that was? Dipper?”

No reply. Stan frowned; he made to follow, but his foot caught on the stack of papers. He caught himself on the wall, and turned back to look at the scattered pile. Each page was lit by TV static, stark white in the light, and pitch black in the shadows. He narrowed his eyes at that picture of Stanford, that stupid thesis.

“Fine.” He gave the mess a kick and stalked into the gift shop. “Fine.”

Dipper wasn’t going to stumble into this so close to the finish line. He’d worked too hard for too long. If the kid was so intent on figuring him out, he’d just have to work faster.

He gave a long look around before entering the code. The venting machine swung open with a puff of air, and he shut it quickly behind him before marching down the steps.

No more scoping out. It was time to finish the job.

[brynnmck]

J/B Exchange Recs Round 1!

I have not been around Tumblr much lately because I was so preoccupied with stuff for @jaime-brienne-fic-exchange, but I am trying to get back into the swing of things, and I figured what better place to start than with some recs?

These are currently skewed a bit toward my amaaaazing gift fic and the amaaaaazing ones I beta-ed, since I am way behind on my reading, but there will be more to come!

Backpfeifengesicht by @samirant - I am so unbelievably grateful that I had both amazing prompts/amazing recipient for the fic I wrote, and such a fabulous gift fic too. I was still working on my own fic and very sleep-deprived and flagging when I read this for the first time and I think I may have actually left my body on a wave of sheer euphoria. IT IS ALL THE GOOD THINGS. So many of my favorite vacation/road trip tropes--drunken shenanigans! Intimate late-night conversations while everyone else is sleeping/elsewhere! Friends being too involved in your relationship! Unexpected forced proximity! And the banter is glorious, and the secondary characters are so well thought out and add such depth and vibrance to the story, and the Sansa/Margaery subplot was DELIGHTFUL, and I love the way this structured Brienne's relationship to Tyrion and then to Jaime as an extension of that, and the resolution was handled with an absolutely perfect balance of hilarity and heat. (There was also the stuff throughout that was very targeted to me specifically WHICH I APPRECIATED, so thanks to both Sami and @forbiddenfantasies1 for that). About 20% of the way into the story, I was deeply convinced it was Sami, and in the best possible way--it had the hallmarks I love about her writing: her sense of humor, her gift for banter, her clear affection for the characters, the richness of all the relationships. It was like showing up to a party and unexpectedly finding a friend there, and it was the loveliest feeling. I am thrilled that so many people have read and loved this story but I want everyone in the world to read and love it, so. Please check it out if you haven't! And also check out Sami's hilarious tale of woe regarding her writing process, which is amazing. THANK YOU AGAIN FOR SUCH A PHENOMENAL GIFT SAMI.  ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

A favorite line: On any other day, Brienne would have left him - a relative stranger - to his wallowing, but an untold amount of imbibed Pentoshi Slammers stirred up a noble benevolence within her, a little voice that said they had something in common and what good were her broad shoulders if they weren’t offered as a place to rest a weary, heartbroken brow? SO GOOD.

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Lay Your Heartbreak and the sequel You could make me feel so good by @ajoblotofjunk / sdwolfpup - LISTEN. SDW sent me an early chunk of this and I was immediately OBSESSED and I have not stopped being obsessed since. Obviously worldbuilding is a huge strength of SDW's and her creativity with that is a constant astonishment to me. But pop culture is full of examples of people who can create amazing worlds and then utterly fail to populate them with interesting or dynamic characters, whereas SDW's ability to fill in those wonderfully creative spaces with her love for the characters and their love for each other that is just magic. And these fics are the perfect examples of that. The setup is not only fascinating but makes for such fantastically INTENSE feelings, omg, everything just feels like it's crackling off the page; even before Jaime and Brienne and Addam are admitting anything to each other, it's not so much simmering under the surface as boiling. The balance between the three of them is gorgeous, there are two incredibly hot fencing scenes as well as a very hot swimming scene (in addition to the sequel being just one big tangle of brain-scorching hotness), there's a perfect amount of sweetness and softness to play off all the blazing heat, and overall this is one that's going to stick with me for a long time. I know J/A/B isn't everyone's cup of tea, but if you aren't actively opposed to the idea of them, then I highly highly encourage you to check this out. 

A favorite line: That night she dreams of golden skin, hot and soft against her palm – yes, someone moans, yes – the rough scrape of callouses over the arch of her ribs, the scratch of red stubble between her thighs – like this? Yes, more, please more – legs sliding together and between each other, and two mouths touching her all over. Hnnnnngh.

_____

The Limit Does Not Exist by @agirlnamedkeith / sameboots - Fics with a power imbalance are something I approach with a lot of caution but I LOVED the way that sameboots handled it here. The fact that this fic includes her signature extremely hot feelings-forward porn as well as a thoughtful exploration of what it can mean to be a woman in STEM is like a beautiful multi-course meal; I cared a LOT about whether they were gonna do it and I was also equally invested in how Brienne’s thesis was going to turn out and where she would go from there. I love Brienne’s stubbornness and determination and even though she’s finding her way here (as you would be, as a grad student), those elements are VERY much on display and they spark fantastically against an initially guarded and caustic but eventually deeply admiring Jaime. And while I don’t want to spoil anything, I will say that I feel like the end is a perfect illustration of one of the major themes of the fic, and I love it so much for that. Watching this one take shape and watching sameboots geek out over her math research was a delight, and the result is excellent (and did I mention, extremely hot). Definitely worth all her work!

A favorite line: “Has anyone ever told you that you’re the worst liar?” (KIDDING HANNAH ILU HERE’S THE REAL ONE:)  The problem with smoothies was that it was hard to make them aggressively., Angrily pushing a button didn’t have the same release as whaling on a punching bag. Brienne didn’t have a punching bag, though, and she desperately needed to do something, and she was hungry. ANGRY SMOOTHING-MAKING. I LOVE IT.

_____

Right Off the Bat by @hillaryschu - A You’ve Got Mail AU where Jaime and Brienne are rival Little League coaches who unknowingly bond over Twitter is SUCH a great idea, and Hillary committed to it right down to the delightful rom-com-trailer summary. She also put an enormous amount of care into the details of the story--she had references for outfits, buildings, even Jaime’s cologne--and it shows in all the lush descriptions throughout. The banter is sparky, watching their two relationships gradually unfold is a lot of fun, there’s a particular tipsy (on Brienne’s part) Twitter DM exchange that I still get flustered thinking about, and there’s a batting cage scene that will be haunting my brain for a while. Especially given that Hillary had never written a story anywhere near this long before, I’m so impressed that she pulled it off (and fixed some of the most problematic elements of the movie, too). Congratulations to her on rising to the challenge!

A favorite line: But as they part from each other, Brienne lifts the hem of her tee to wipe the dirt and sweat from her face. Her exposed stomach is pale and toned, with softly defined muscles that gleam with perspiration. Jaime trips over home plate. SAME JAIME. SAME.

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X Marks the Spot (where I’ll find you again) by @pretty--thief - PIRATES. I WAS SO EXCITED WHEN I HEARD ABOUT THE PIRATES. And this fic is such a fantastic blend of snappy, exciting swashbuckling (and hilarious use of parrots) and a very poignant backstory that underlays the adventure with all this yeeeeeearning and it’s SO GOOD. The action scenes are thrilling, the descriptions are gorgeous, there is STARGAZING and BATTLE COUPLE, the Jaime snark is chefkiss, Brienne is so brave and committed and quietly full of feelings, there’s a really lovely discussion of the ethics of being in the military, and also Pod and Addam and Arya and PIRATES FOR JUSTICE. SO HERE FOR THAT. And did I mention the yeeeeeearning (which is paid off wonderfully--the penultimate chapter lived rent-free in my mind for about a week after I first read it)? Ugh SO GOOD.

A favorite line: When he had exited his quarters, Brienne had looked at him with so much concern in her eyes it threatened to swallow Jaime whole. He’d felt something similar when he was around Cersei, when they were fucking or fighting; a fire he had once thought he could never tire of, would never want to put out. But Brienne had reached out her hand, as if on reflex, and smoothed her thumb across his tired brow. The ship had continued to sway beneath them, and Jaime didn’t feel fire. He didn’t feel like he would be turned to ash at any moment. He felt a breeze, the wind in his hair and salty air in his lungs. as;lfkja;sldjgas;lfjas;lf 

_____

Federation Fliers by @elizadunc /Ladybugbear2 - A short and very sweet one! I adore the world that Megs created in this and would happily read many many more words in it, but this is a lovely glimpse in and of itself, and made me so happy. Established relationship (which I love), one of my favorite Jaime nicknames for Brienne, a wonderfully badass Brienne and a wonderfully besotted Jaime, all against a fascinating backdrop. So good!

A favorite line: She belonged in the sky. She had a grace to her movements on the ground, but in the sky she was ethereal. HEART-EYES

_____

And now for a few that I just read after they were posted like a normal person:

Wine Down by @slipsthrufingers - SOME MILD SPOILERS HEREIN FYI. Okay first of all, the summary of this fic is deliciously evil and I think we all need to appreciate that. Also, it starts out with Jaime and Brienne having lunch together and these glorious descriptions of food and he has taken note of the specific food she likes and is making sure it’s provided for her and that is SO VERY MUCH MY LOVE LANGUAGE YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW. I FLAILED. And then things go, shall we say, a bit downhill, but in the most achingly beautiful way--Jaime sacrificing himself for Brienne and Brienne determined to tether him to life through sheer force of will and steadfast devotion. Slips puts us right into Brienne’s headspace/heartspace while she’s worrying for Jaime and trying to negotiate the fucked-up Lannister family dynamics (and the observations on said dynamics are wonderful too), and this hits such an excellent balance of Brienne’s rigidly controlled surface and everything that’s roiling away underneath. I’m always fascinated by the idea of what could have happened during the time that Brienne was in King’s Landing and this is such a brilliant exploration of how things could have gone, and Brienne’s interactions with the rest of the Lannisters (and Sansa) give the world that much more depth as well. The descriptions throughout are beautiful, there are so many lovely turns of phrase, the intimacy between Jaime and Brienne is just devastating, and it all comes back around to an immensely satisfying conclusion. SO GOOD. 

A favorite line: The gods had seen fit to give her an unwomanly body, so she had taken up the sword. They had given her an ugly face, so she had perfected her manners and courtesies so they could never be frowned upon. But they had given her a maiden’s heart, and try as she might she had never found the right weapon to protect it. MY PRECIOUS GIRL.

_____

A Matter of Honor by @nire-the-mithridatist - I shrieked at nire in DMs basically the whole time I was reading this story, it made me experience like 90% of the range of human emotions in one night and I’m still mad about it. This features a fascinatingly flipped script where Brienne is the wealthy one and Jaime the supplicant, and an arrogant-ass supplicant he is. Brienne is an angy baby nineteen-year-old who is furious at the entire world and I fucking adore her for it, and watching all the events unfold through the lens of her (generally well-founded) suspicions was a delicious sort of torture where I trusted NO ONE and genuinely did not know exactly what was going to happen next. Nire turns a lot of marriage fic tropes on their head in this and it’s all done brilliantly, and there is EXTREMELY SEXY SWORD-FIGHTING (and as a sexy bonus, Brienne’s perspective on it feels so perfect for someone who is truly an accomplished swordswoman), and nire uses some common elements throughout to just pack in these layers and layers of meaning and significance, and there are many turns of phrase so perfect that they hurt, and then she’s like “hey would you like to re-feel all the feelings in this story again in a very concentrated burst” and it’s SO MUCH, and the conclusion pays everything off amazingly. And even though it’s very swoony and romantic (and HOT. I SHOULD MENTION VERY HOT), there’s a hint of melancholy to it too, reckoning with what it means to be a woman--even a wealthy one--in Brienne’s world, and it’s just the perfect crunch of salt on top of all the sweetness. LOVE. 

A favorite line: He brought her knuckles to his lips. As sweet as honeyed nettles, he declared, “Lady Brienne. You have made me the happiest of men.” As the crowd roared in approval, she felt the sting of his kiss. STING OF HIS KISS ARE YOU KIDDING ME. Also I’m including this for purely thirsty reasons but NO SHAME: He stood from the sofa and went to help his wife undress, and if she noticed his averted eyes and his trembling hands—oh gods, the laces went on endlessly down her back, and with each pull, a little more of her figure was revealed, barely veiled by her gauzy shift—she said nothing. I DIED. I ALSO SAID NOTHING BECAUSE I WAS DEAD. Fuck, man.

_____

The Riverlands Gang Go to the Zoo by @naomignome - Another shorter and very delightful one with Naomi’s typical brand of chaotic humor that I adore. It’s Hyle POV, for one thing, which is good times, and the structure of this is so clever--the way each section of the zoo is used to progress the story is so seamless and happy-making, and there are tons of little jokes and Easter eggs packed in along with a very sweet, snarky emotional storyline wherein Hyle is definitely doomed. Plus another EXCELLENT Brienne nickname in here. LOVELY. 

A favorite line: “Pixel!” he said laughingly, “You know if you fell in the bear pit, I would jump after you without a second thought.” “You need to have a first thought in order to have a second one.” Brienne said dryly. SUCH A GOOD BURN.

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all these people think love’s for show (but i would die for you in secret) by @naomignome - This is SUCH A FLEX because not only did Naomi write TWO fics for her recipient but they are WILDLY DIFFERENT and I’m so impressed with her for doing it! This one is SPIEEEEESSSS and Naomi packs so much tension into 5K, I was on the edge of my seat through the whole thing. Canon events are woven in astonishingly well, and it’s a delicious enemies-to-partners-to-lovers situation that involves some excellent hurt/comfort and excellent use of RAIN to moody/sexy effect and it’s just all very thrilling. YUM.

A favorite line: He lets off a single bullet and it grazes the inside of her thigh, enough to make her wince and draw blood, but not enough to stop her from tackling him to the ground and wrestling him into submission. She’s got both of his wrists pinned above his head and her knee is drawn up and pressed against his torso. Jaime’s chest is heaving under her knee. Her chest is heaving in tandem. From above him, Brienne can see the green of his eyes darken, and even in submission, he’s annoyingly beautiful. Her blood is rushing, and it’s not all adrenaline. WHEW. SAME.

_____

as stars once a year brush the earth by @ylizam / mazily - Another wonderfully bite-sized one (good job actually taking the minimum word count as a guideline, people who did that, unlike the rest of us dumbasses!) that packs a lot into a small space. A canon-ish soulmates AU that’s so understated and dreamy, but with the echo of all the turmoil they’ve gone through to get to this place that brings everything in sharp relief. It’s also funny and sexy and romantic as fuck, and there are gorgeous poetic descriptions, and they spar by a WATERFALL, and just. So much happens in just over 1600 words! IMPRESSIVE.

A favorite line: Her right hand goes numb, unfeeling; back in their rooms Jaime is waking up, and she knows the phantom ache of his missing hand is bothering him. Jaime is waking, and yawning, the bed linens pooling around his waist and highlighting his summer tanned skin. She misses him, suddenly, as wide as the endless sea in front of her. BEAUTIFUL.

OKAY THIS WAS A LONG POST. That’s all I’ve got for now--more to come as I continue my reading!!

[bywhatilove]

Mockingjay Reread (the 2nd half)/ rewatch of Mockingjay Part two Thoughts

Warning: I have ALOT of thoughts concerning Mockingjay part two

Josh Hutcherson doesn’t get NEARLY enough credit for playing hijacked Peeta. No one could have done it like he did. Same goes with Jen in how she brought the many, many character layers of Katniss alive.

and while we are on the topic of acting- I know Jen and Josh don’t really match their character’s book descriptions but, they both did SUCH a good job at bringing Katniss and Peeta alive. I truly can’t imagine anyone else playing Katniss and Peeta as far as acting goes.

UGH I could really write a whole thesis paper on the character’s differing perspectives about how far is too far when it comes to your actions in war time. That is a component of Mockingjay that is so fascinating to me.

There are so many instances in Mockingjay when you can see that Katniss really is just a seventeen year old girl who should not have been placed in this position. And, when I remember that I’m the same age that Katniss and Peeta are in Mockingjay? It makes me realize just how powerful this story really is.

Definition of heartbreak: “All I know is I would have saved myself a lot of suffering if I had just given that bread to pig” no, seriously, look heartbreak up in the dictionary, that’s the actual definition

Finnick, Johanna, Katniss and Peeta is the ot4 I deserved and I will NEVER not be bitter I didn’t get it

The shot of Katniss and Prim dancing at the wedding is so heart wrenching because you know it’s one of the last moments they ever have together.

Katniss showing her little self up after hiding on the hovercraft and trying to stay unseen while everyone stops and stares will never not be funny to me

Finnick being kind to Peeta and looking out for him while everyone else tries and avoids him will always warm my heart. They are the Brotp I deserved.

“You’re a painter. You’re a baker. You always sleep with the windows open...” excuse me while I go cry in a corner

“Clearly some alliances don’t last forever.” CEASER FLICKERMAN HOW DARE YOU. I was rooting for you. We were all rooting for you.

“That’s what you and I do. We keep each other alive” That line hits differently because they’ve been doing that since they were 11.

Finncik? Odair? Died? No. He’s alive and well and living with Annie and their son in four. I don’t know who just died but it definitely wasn’t my man finnick.

“Stay with me. Always.” Do I need to say anything else?

“If you end this, all those deaths, they mean something.” Peeta’s speech in Tigresses basement is the first sign that the real Peeta is back. It’s one of my favorite parts in the movie.

“If I see you again, it’s going to be a different world.” Arguably my favorite everlark moment of the entire series- either book or movie. At this point, they know it’s the end of something, rather that be the end of the capital’s regime or the end of the districts rebellion. They both know that what happens within the next couple of hours, ultimately decides their fate. And after everything they’ve been through together, this could really be the last time they see each other and they know that.

The image of the capitol children being forcibly removed from their parents, and then the parachutes drop and everyone just assumes they are gifts...it hurts.

Prim dying is something that I really don’t have any words for. This whole story started with Katniss protecting her sister from probable death. And for prim to die in the very last moments of the revolution? It’s terrible.

The fact that there were 75 victors , and only seven were still alive in the end blows my mind.

Snow’s talk with Katniss in the rose garden always gives me goosebumps.

I’ll admit it- I’m not Gale’s biggest fan. But he deserved a better ending. His and Katniss’ friendship deserved a better ending.

Headcanon- Peeta and Annie routinely check up on each other via letters and phone calls post war and Annie eventually visits district 12 with her kid and Johanna

Was it too hard to include the “let me go. I can’t” dialogue? Seriously, it would have took like three seconds

Katniss’ depression when she is locked up in the training center after killing Coin and when she returns to 12 absolutely breaks my heart. She’s only 17 and she went through so much. Katniss deserved only the best.

“The life of a victor.” Effie Trinket, I adore you.

“We’re fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction.” One of my favorite quotes from the entire series.

The Katniss and Peeta theme that always plays over their scenes together is so beautifully composed. James Newton Howard is a genius.

“You love me. Real or not Real?” “Real” maybe I cry everytime. maybe I do, and thats okay.

Katniss goes from seeking Peeta’s comfort because of nightmares to seeking his comfort because she genuinely just wants to be with him, and I think that’s beautiful.

Anytime I see anyone complain that Katniss having children/ending up with Peeta is OOC and shouldn’t have happened, I have to physically reframe myself from fighting them.

“But there are much worse games to play” is the perfect way to end the series. Suszanne Collins, you may have caused me emotional trauma, but you are a genius and I’ll forever be grateful that you created my favorite story.

As you can tell, I have a lot of thoughts/emotions when it comes to this series. Seriously, I have a lot. So if anyone ever wants to talk about it with me, don’t be afraid to reach out.

[inessencedevided]

The Untamed, episode 45 - watching notes

I'm at this stage of fandom rn where it's really hard to concentrate on anything else 😅

Every song I listen to gets dissected for how it relates to wangxian

I need to concentrate on my thesis but instead I'm pondering how the untamed raises questions about collectivism vs individualism and how my western perception of that might differ greatly from a native chinese person or even the author's intention

Can't I just write my thesis about THAT?

Alas, I digress ...

Back to our regular programming :D

Last time one Sophie watches the untamed wwx went all Sherlock on us and used his formidable skills of deduction to expose Backpfeifengesicht's plan of killing everyone and blaming it on wwx

I've heard from several people that the next few episodes are their favourites, so no high expectations at all :D

Nobody wipes the blood on their chins away. Might be about the aesthetic

I adore detective-duo-wangxian so much!! Especially because wwx does 99% of the talking but then lwj will chime in with a single word and it's 100% devastating :D

If anyone knows any well written case-fics for these two, please, I need recs! (For after the show)

Backpfeifengesicht makes good one point and that is that jgy already is at the top of the cultivation world. So what does he gain from all this?

Or is it simply that he's afraid of wwx because he's a rebel and might act against him? (Don't answer that. I wanna find out through the show ;))

Wwx just casually revealed that he's been to cloud recess and that he handles went to the restricted section forbidden chamber. What will you do about, Lan Qiren? Huh? 😂

Oooh! Backpfeifengesicht is the ghosted faced man! I thought it was Jiggy himself!!! 😱

That makes way more sense though!

Lan Sizhui! Jin Ling! Oh you brave boys! 😭

Someone hold me 😭

But why does he not take zidian now? He's done so before!

"You little fool!" Is "I love you" in Jiang-Cheng-speak :D

"We're done for! What can we do??" - wwx *strips*

Sorry

Bahahaha 😂😂😂

I just burst out laughing waaay to loudly for the fact that I've got people sleeping in the room next to mine

But look at Lan Qiren when he sees wwx strop to reveal anat is probably his nephew's undershirt 😂😂😂

He's probably questioning every decision that's let him to this point :D

This is completely inconsequential,but I couldn't keep quiet about it anymore because I every time he makes this motion, it always sends a shiver down my spine!!! Notice that wwx (or rather Xiao Zhan) is one of these people whose fingers bend in the opposite direction??? I know it's just a normal thing some people can do, but I can't watch it!! It makes my fingers hurt just looking at it 🙈🙈🙈

Is he turning himself into a demon lure flag?? 😱

Lan Jingyi 🥺🥺🥺

Also does wwx now just transfer his self-sacrificing tendencies to lwj?

Nothing is as hot as these two together in a fight scene

Jiang Cheng doesn't want to leave them behind. He does care! :') he just never unlearned how to unravel his love from his anger

Sizhui running up to greet his dads :')

Look at them! I'm soft guys 💔

He called him Yuan!! 😭😭😭

So this is it. Any doubts I ever had about Sizhui's identity are gone

Will he finally recognize him??

Why don't you say anything lwj? This one time, I beg you!!

Sect Leader Yao still at his gossip shit even 16 years later 🙄

Lam sizhyi is seasick! Why is this so cute! 😭

Oh Wen Ning!! He recognized A-Yuan? Right?

I want to hug Lan Sizhui for his openness and kindness towards everyone he meets, no matter their status or what other people say about them! (Wen Ning now or who he thought was Mo Xuanyu the supposed mad-man) and I wanna hug lan Wangji right after for raising him to be like this :')

Oh Wen Ning! 😭

That's how I'd look at Sizhui, too, if I met him - poor unadulterated wonder :')

And just think about what that means for Wen Ning! He's not the last of the Wens! All their fight wasn't for nothing. This child, their legacy, survived 😭😭😭

"Can I call you A-Yuan" "Of Course." God I'm gonna burst into tears 😭

I'm actually bursting into tears!!

Isn't this the dream of anyone who has ever lost someone? :')

"He's like a brother and father to me" :')

And he raised him from when he was 4 or 5? So ... A-Yuan was about 2 when the Wens died? Right? Then 5 would fit with lwj's 3 year isolation

Ob god, it's the butterfly-toy!!! 😭😭😭

Wen Nings smiling through his tears! I can't! 😭💔And he's got the one from the market!

Aww, wax isn't wearing the white undergarment anymore. Too bad

Oh poor Jin Ling ...

So much grieve that he could probably never process. There so many lost kids in this story, hurt by things they had no control over 😔

I mean, I get it. That's the person who killed his parents (without being in control, but he doesnt know that) and everyone is just talking to him as if it's normal and that didn't happen. But he can't forget,but he doesnt really understand either and he has no outlet. Of course he'd just ... crash 😥

And who would have thought I'd ever try at a flashback of Jin Zixuan's death :(

For once, it'd be nice if the adults actually acted like the parent figures they're supposed to be and explain things to their children 🤦‍♀️

I'm so thankful though, that no one even thinks of scolding him for crying. Jismg Cheng only asked who it was that made him cry (and looks like he'll kick their ass). Generally, thus show has a very healthy attitude towards tears. Most characters cry when they are faced with tragedy, regardless of gender. Men being allowed to have appropriate reactions to grieve (instead of a single men tear or just punching things) is really nice to see

Oh Yao dude whose courtesy name I can't remember, shut up!

Thanks Ouyang Zizhen! You get me

I live for these children standing up to their elders

Meanwhile Nie Huaisang is just on the sidelines, enjoying the show :D never change!

The Lotus Pier theme song alone is making me cry rn 😢

Why can't wen Ning come in?

Oh Sizhui!

He many times do you want to make me cry happy tears today?? :')

Little turnip-baby ❤

But why doesn't lwj say anything ??? 😭

Lan Wangji raised A-Yuan smong a bunch of rabbits??? 😭

Now he's a turnip baby with a taste for carrots, how cute is that? :')

Holy shit, wwx and lwj are really joined at the hip these days of lwj won't enter the hall if wwx isn't allowed to :D

Lwj 😑 "no misbehaviour"

Someone. Knows. Their. Husband.

Okay sorry, but as painful as these cuts must have been and yes, while you do see scars on this prostitute's face, they in no way warrant these horrified gasps as of they had all seen a monster 🙄

Xue yang. Fancy seeing you here in this not at all disturbing sub-plot 😬

Okay that's creepy. That's really creepy

Shouldn't Jin Guangyao have a bit more compassion for these women?

On the other hand, he was born to menacingly stand behind a curtain 🤷‍♀️

W. T. F. ????

Jin Guangshan??? o___O

That's the most skin we've ever seen on this show and it's in a scene like THIS? 😬

THIS IS HOW JIN GUANGSHAN DIED? 😱😱😱

How?

How can you die from sex?

And then jgy made them keep going?

UGH

These poor women :/

So there's someone who set her free on purpose, right?

Bicao has really interesting eyes!

Oh wait, took me some time to catch up. This is about Quin Su and why she killed herself, right?

WHAT??

They were siblings o_O

They just went full game of thrones on this ...

Hey Jin Guangshan, screw you for raping that woman

Wait, is that why jgy had him die like THAT?

I'm so confused about how that happened btw

But why would Jin Guangyao merry quin su anyway? Was this some kind of political marriage that he couldn't call off?

This episode answered some of my questions but raised about a dozen more 😅

@sweetlittlevampire @fandom-glazed @elenirlachlagos @allhailthedramallama @luckymoony @kyrrahbird @i-love-him-on-purpose

5 episodes to go. I'm both happy because I can't wait to brows the untamed tag without looking for spoilers and extremely sad 🥺

Right now I'm planning to watch one episode each day until friday and then watch the last two on Saturday, hopefully quite early, so I can spend the rest of the day crying my eyes out over it, without having to worry about such trivial things as being a functioning adult or a responsible student 😅

[francoiserenaldt]

good things come to those who wait...

summary: there’s a boy and she doesn’t quite know what to do… (alternatively: melisande devereaux has really done it this time)

word count: 1.8k

warnings: none

note: would it be a fic written by me if the moon didn’t make some kind of appearance? probably not. takes place after a few weeks at vancross.

Vancross is silent when she sneaks out of her dorm. 

Melisande took extra precautions to make sure that Tatum would be firmly in REM sleep—measuring his sleep patterns without looking like a stalker was easily the hardest thing Melisande had ever done and she once climbed a tree in heels for a photo op—and Murphy was a nonissue as long as Dionne was none the wiser. 

The one thing she hadn’t accounted for was guilt. The possibility of Tatum being punished for her actions had only occurred to her in this and it made her stomach ache, but she swallowed it and continued to walk. She had already made it this far.

This whole situation was his fault, anyway.

She eventually finds herself in the gardens. The sole light hanging from the top of the gazebo blinks to life at her arrival—she couldn’t even avoid the limelight in the wee hours of the morning, apparently—and she sits under the light and takes a breath. 

The speech she wrote sits in her back pocket. It’s awful even by her standards, but it’s the product of rushed scribbles in between classes and right before she went to sleep. She’s loath to imagine what would happen if any one of the numerous people surrounding her found out about this, but her mind wanders anyway. 

Blaine would, no doubt, tear it apart with a smirk, giddy with the realization that she knew Melisande was nothing but a sheltered puppet for her mother all along—Blaine wouldn’t say it that way, of course; despite a rivalry that spans over centuries and defies common sense, she’s oddly insistent on getting into Melisande’s pants.

Ayna would be concerned but supportive; the historian in her probably reckons that it would make killer supporting evidence in a collegiate thesis. Dionne probably would find it odd; parents controlling every aspect of their children’s lives was normal and resentment only hurt you in the end.

(Maybe she’d have a point.)

And Tatum...if Tatum got a hold of this, she would probably cease to exist on the spot.

Regardless, it doesn’t matter what everyone else would say if they saw it because they never will. Her reputation, her life even, depends on it.

She chuckles at that; it’s the most authentic speech she’ll ever write, but there can be no audience to receive it. She can only laugh to stop from crying.

The moon at Vancross is stunning this time of year, cool and quiet and drawing an odd feeling—too warm to be sadness, but far too cold to be wistful—from her. The scene was perfect, but it didn’t change the inevitable: Tatum would kill her if he knew she was out here.  

She almost wants him to; anything is better than this torturous dance they’ve been doing since he appeared in her dorm room. Everything about him was “job description this, job description that” until she could get him alone; even then, he would only drop the act for a few minutes before it was back to wishing he had never been assigned to her.

(Her heart only broke a little bit when he said things like that, of course. She’s an adult.)

(If only she actually felt like one.)

She stands and quietly clears her throat. If her calculations are good, she only has 20 minutes until someone notices that she’s gone. 

“I’m alone for the first time in a long time, so maybe I can finally put this weird feeling into words.” Melisande begins, just barely resisting the urge to fall into public speech mode. “I’m completely and utterly unsure of what I’m supposed to do with my life. Everyone has their own ideas about what I should be doing here. Mom wants me to come here and make the country proud by earning all of my marks, Dionne wants me to date, and Blaine...ugh, I shouldn’t even be speaking to her right now. I’m a grown woman and yet I’m letting everyone else tell me what’s good for me. The only person who’s fully respecting my decisions right now is...Tatum.”

She cuts herself off with a groan, crumpling the paper in her hands. “Fucking Tatum. I’m midway through articulating my quarter-life crisis and all I can think about is him.” She slumps down onto the bench, burying her face in her hands. “And I’m not even thinking about him, not really. The Tatum that wanted anything to do with me died overseas. The real Tatum is sleeping in his bed, probably dreaming about being literally anywhere else.”

A street light flickers on several meters away. A group of her peers chortles on their way to their dorms, no doubt drunk from some house party. She sighs, lifting her head.

“What did I expect, anyway? ‘Lisa and Tate against the world, like when we were kids?’ I barely want to be here and I’m actually getting something out of this.” She scoffs, sniffling. “God, I’m an idiot.” 

The wind picks up then, pulling her waist-length braids to the side. The night is still quiet and there’s no sign of life anywhere near, but she’s never felt more exposed. “I don’t even know him anymore. And he doesn’t want to know me. He’s just doing his job. It shouldn’t hurt this much to see him again.” She purses her lips as the heat behind her eyes swells once again, but she blinks it back. There’s still too much to say before she has to go back to bed. 

“But I have a job to do here, too. My mother is counting on me. Winston is counting on me. All of Rutherland is counting on me, so I won’t give up on them. I can’t. It’s out of the question.” She shakes her head violently. “But I won’t give up on him either. Not when I’m getting a little bit closer to seeing the real Tatum, my Tatum, in my life again. I can’t afford to screw this up. I can’t lose him again.”

Melisande tilts her head back and stares directly at the moon, letting the light reflect the pool of unshed tears in her deep brown eyes before she shuts them completely and lets the tears fall. “What the hell am I going to do?”

Off in the distance, a bell tower rings and the long hand of the clock beneath it settles on 4. She’d been out for far too long. It was only a matter of time before-

“Melisande.” 

(Shit.)

“Lecture me in the morning, please. I’m exhausted,” she sobbed.

She hears him clear his throat, probably out of awkwardness, before he speaks. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to be out by yourself right now?”

“I think I could have handled myself against the flora and fauna, Tatum.” Melisande snaps, wiping furiously at the tears running down her cheeks. “Besides, late-night escorts aren’t in your job description.”

“It’s literally a part of my job description that I need to be near you or aware of your location at all times, especially for ‘late-night escorts.’” Tatum pinches the bridge of his nose. “What were you doing up this late anyway?”

“Writing a sonnet.” 

“This is not the time for you to joke around.”

“So it’s only okay to switch up when you do it. Got it.” She huffs, brushing past him and speed walking in the other direction. “I’m tired. Let’s go back.”

He’s quicker, grabbing her arm and turning her around to face him. He takes her face into his hands, the fury (concern?) in his already intense eyes setting her ablaze. “You can never do anything like this again. Am I clear?”

“Tatum, you made yourself perfectly clear when you told me that you never wanted to be back around me the first time.” Melisande scoffs, meeting his glower with one of her own. “I’m the last person that's going to endanger your cushy government job, alright? Can we be done here?”

“We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

“Good. Now let go.”

The morning after is rough, to say the least. There isn’t enough caffeine in the world to make Melisande a functioning human being on 3 hours of sleep or enough outfit changes in her closet to wait Tatum out. 

He’s not good at waiting—never has been—and he paces outside her door, as if he’s ticking down the seconds until she has to stop hiding. She can’t help but scoff; his method is questionable but the message is clear: I’m not letting you off the hook this time.

She eventually settles on a light blue blazer set and rushes out of her bedroom, making a beeline for the kitchen. Naturally, a toned arm blocks her way. “I need to get to class.”

“You’re not getting out of this.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, but fine. We can talk now.” She drawled, ducking under his arm and turning on the coffee maker.  “You wanted to know why I left last night.” 

“As your bodyguard, I think you owe me that.”

“I needed time to think.”

“Don’t you have a room for that?”

“I wanted to be alone,” Melisande replied nonchalantly, only managing to resist the urge to shrug when she sees his nostrils flare. “It’s hard to do that when you have a shadow.”

“What are you doing?”

“Talking to you,” she allows the shrug this time, turning her head to meet his eyes as she pours her coffee. “Should I be doing something else?”

“Let me rephrase that: why are you acting out?”

Acting out? 

If Melisande was acting out, she’d have made herself a staple of the numerous house parties happening at Vancross. If she was acting out, she’d find Blaine Hayes and give her mother a scandal worth calling about. If she was acting out, she would have never agreed to come to the Vancross Institute to begin with. 

She didn’t deserve this.

“You can’t be serious. I leave the dorm once to clear my head and you’re treating me like a child.”

“Melisande—”

“This conversation is over.” 

“Like hell it is.” Tatum snaps. “In case you haven’t gotten the memo yet, you’re the daughter of a world leader, which means that you can’t leave in the middle of the night to clear your head on a whim without telling me. If there was even a one percent chance that someone who wanted to hurt you came here and I didn’t know where you were, I…” He pauses, then takes a breath. “I can’t do my job. It’s—”

“—your job to protect me. I know that.” 

“Then don’t make this harder for me than it already is.”

The earnest look in his eyes—definitely concern now—is enough to make her drop the act. “Alright. I’m sorry.”

He grunts, blinking the moment away, and she curses herself for the disappointment that courses through her veins. “Don’t be sorry, be careful.” 

“It’s too late for that.” Melisande shakes her head, too frustrated to cry and too tired to argue. “Far too late.”

It’s clear that he doesn’t understand what she means and she decides, then and there, that he would never know. The fates had aligned and made his position clear: she was an assignment to him. He could never know that she wanted more.

(It was far too late. For both of them.)

[babyredriot]

“I just want to give you endless headaches for however long you’ll let me’ That sounds like the sum of a relationship with Kaminari

A/N: First off, I am so sorry this is coming a month late, I got side-tracked by school. I am back and ready to write! I hope you like this as I am getting out of the groove of writing papers for my thesis and in return getting back into the groove of writing for my favorite manga/anime. I loved writing this and ugh *chefs kiss* Denki. Thats all. Just Denki. 

Word count: 1,960

HEADACHES.. YOU GIVE ME HEADACHES

A crashing sound reverberated throughout the 1A dorms. The sound was unmistakable, one of Bakugo’s explosions. You rolled your eyes as you tried to once again pull your focus away from the ruckus outside of your room and stare down at the daunting math problems below you. 

“GET BACK HERE DUNCE FACE” Bakugo yelled, it sounded like they were coming closer to your room which made you even more on edge. You felt a slight twinge behind your left eye as you once again tried to focus on her homework. Your boyfriend was not helping at all as his loud laughter could be heard. He seemed to be taunting Bakugo, from what you could hear. The back and forth of loud conversation between the two made your headache deepen into a sharp ache behind your left eye. 

“Okay if I can just figure out how to take the derivative-“ You spoke outlaid to try to keep your focus on the math problem but was cut short by another boom echoing through the halls. You knew if you did not stop the stupid antics of the boys outside Mr. Aizawa would cut in and give them all detentions. Which would just lead to more headaches for you, wondering how Kaminari was faring alone in a room with Bakugo. Your headache began to spread across her brow bone as you heard some kind of girly shrieking from beyond your door. You ripped yourself away from the paper and sighed heavily, standing up to go find out what the idiots where up to now. 

As you stepped outside of your room the sight of tape hanging from the ceiling in a vine like fashion, made your mouth fall open. Your eyes widened and then narrowed into slits as you felt your headache spread to the other temple now. The sight could only mean one thing. Your boyfriend and Sero were trying out his new maneuverability tactic. Probably in an attempt to get as far away from the hotheaded blonde as possible. Your frown deepened as she stomped through the hallways to try and find them. You trudged through the common room and looked out the window, delighted to see that they had finally stepped outside. Still, your headache wasn’t going away and they were the reason for it. The pain felt like your own boyfriend was frying your brain instead of his own. This was not something you were used to. The pain mixed with annoyance only made you angrier.  On a rage fueled mission you decided to take the problem right to the source. 

Your descent to the ground was filled with a lot of mumblings about how you could’ve picked any other boy to date, but your stupid heart had to fall in love with a spark plug. You could be spending your time in a quiet dorm right now with Todoroki as he read. But noooo, you just had to fall for the instigator of the bakusquad. As annoyed as you were with him and his disaster double right now, you knew deep down that you wouldn’t change a thing about the boy. He cheered you up to no end and always put you first before anything else. That didn’t change the fact that right now you were on a war path. 

When you finally got outside you were  surprised to see Kirishima sitting on rock laughing and observing the situation before him. You crept up behind him to watch as well before yelling at the boys. It seemed that Sero had finally been caught by the notorious King Explosion Murder and was passed out on the ground. Denki was being cornered between a bush and his friend when he made eye contact with his girlfriend. 

“Hey Y/N! Want to help me out here?” He said darting his eyes around the area trying to look for an escape route. Bakugo was closing in even further. You weighed out the options in your hands of letting Bakugo blow your boyfriend to kingdom come. On one hand the boy would get what was likely coming to him for annoying the blonde, but on the other you didn’t want him to be turned into some kind of punching bag. Kirishima had turned to you when Denki called out your name and sent you a sharp toothed smile. 

“C’mon Kaminari, having L/N stand in your way is so unmanly don’t you think?” Kiri said while turning back to the boys. You sighed and pinched the brim of your nose finally ready to make yourself known to the seething predator. You felt all of the annoyance come to the surface of your being and let loose all of your frustration on the three unsuspecting boys. 

“Actually, I came out here to tell you all to SHUT UP. I’VE HAD A HEADACHE FOR THE PAST THIRTY MINUTES AND I NEED TO FINISH MY HOMEWORK BEFORE TOMORROW SO I CAN STAY ON TOP OF MY GRADES. YOU IDIOTS ARE DISTURBING THE WHOLE DORMS AND FOR WHAT!? JUST BECAUSE YOU WANTED TO MESS WITH BAKUGO AGAIN? OR JST BECAUSE SOME STUPID INSTIGATORS GOT UNDER YOUR SKIN?” Your rant had begun and there was no way of stopping it now. All three of the conscious boys now stared at you. Bakugo seemed to be waiting for the moment to interject and throw it right back at you. Kirishima stood up next to you as you paused and opened his mouth to say something in return. “AND YOU! YOUR JUST SITTING AROUND AND LETTING THIS HAPPEN? WE HAVE EXAMS IN TWO WEEKS AND ALL OF YOU ARE JUST CHASING EACH OTHER AROUND? IT’S STUPID AND CHILDISH.” There was a feeling growing in your stomach that felt a lot like regret but you just simply gave each one of them a glare and turned on your heel. It was easy to yell at them all when they were rendered speechless. You had never yelled at any of them, ever. 

The guilty feeling in your stomach didn’t subside as you ran back upstairs. You hoped none of them would follow you back in, due to the fact that you were so embarrassed on how you just acted. They were some of your best friends and didn’t deserved to be yelled at simply because you had a headache. You should have resorted to some kind of soft spoken tactic instead of the rash outburst. 

Just as you were about to reach the top of the staircase you heard footfalls behind you. You took two stairs at a time trying to reach the door before they could catch you, but found yourself being tugged when you finally reached the landing. Your wrist was in someones hold. You looked down at the attachment and saw a hand that had become very known to you. You dragged your eyes up the figure and felt yourself deflate when your eyes met those of your boyfriends. You stood on the landing right above him, as he stared up at you through his lashes. His face was in an odd kind of grimace mixed with a frown. He seemed to be carefully choosing his words on what he was going to say next. Something you had never seen him do a day since you had known him. 

“I know you’re mad. I also know that you’re in pain and all that loud noise probably sucked hearing but I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He looked up at you with a melancholy look in his eyes. “I didn’t want to cause you any kind of discomfort, we just stole Bakugo’s earphones because he was ignoring us while we were all doing homework in Kirishima’s room, it got out of hand as you saw. I truly am sorry Y/N. I-I don’t want you to feel any kind of pain ever and it sucks that we caused this outburst from you. Please don’t be angry with me anymore, I can change and not steal stuff from him anymore, I-I can make sure to be quiet always and-“ His words were cut off as you pulled him up to the same level as you and gave him a hug. He stayed still for a second wondering how it happened so fast before he melted in your arms. You knew your outburst would make Denki upset, but you still did it. “I just can’t lose you because I am so obnoxious. You can’t leave me please.” 

You realized how Denki was processing this and hugged him even tighter to yourself. Your head was still throbbing but the thrum of his heart against your temple felt nice for a few seconds. “I could never leave you dummy. You’re the light in my life. I just freaked out because I don’t understand anything that’s happening in math right now and couldn’t focus on it. That on top of the headache made me see red and I’m so sorry that you feel like you have to change just because I yelled at you. Your not obnoxious Denki… You’re perfect.” With every end of a sentence you felt your grip on him grow even tighter. Soon enough he was tapping on your shoulder to let you know he needed new found air. When he stepped away from you, you saw the normal spark behind his eyes. Something that made your heart fill back up with joy. 

“I just want to give you endless headaches for however long you’ll let me.” You laughed at his statement as he looked at you with that same shit-eating grin. His eyes turned serious once more as he rested a hand on your shoulder. “But, even so I am sorry Y/N, I never thought I would see you lose your cool like that. It sucks that we’re the reason why it happened. Even if you let me give you headaches in the future, I promise from now on I will always bring you advil and make sure you’re involved in the fun only after we finish all of our work together.” You felt a smile growing on your face at his sincerity. Something that was rare to be seen, but a side you got to see very often. Denki’s hand traveled lower onto your arm and laced his fingers with your own. 

“I love you Denki, headaches and all. I’m sorry I blew up and scared you. That wasn’t my intention.” You smiled up at the spark-plug and nudged his shoulder slightly. 

“I love you to Y/N.” He placed a kiss onto of your forehead and seemed to rest there for a second as he thought of something. “Uhhh, we should probably go back down there because when I came up here Kirishima was banging his head against the tree for ‘The unmanly act of causing someone pain that was unwarranted’.” You felt your cheeks light up at the news of the other boys that you reprimanded. 

“Yeah I should probably apologize to them..” You said trailing off as you looked up at your boyfriends calculating gaze.

“Orrr, you could make them think your still mad and have Sero and Kirishima waiting on you hand and foot for the rest of the day! I mean the most you could probably get out of blondie would be some math help, but who knows may he even feels bad.” You weighed out the options once again today of which path to take. And felt the mischief that Denki has instilled in your heart flare up. You looked back up at him mirroring the spark he held in his eyes.

 “Lets do it.” You said taking the stairs two at a time again, but this time your hand was wrapped in Denki’s.

[nitewrighter]

Final Exams widowtracer or gency if you don't do widowtracer

No Widowtracer. This is a Spiderbyte/Tracily House.  So It’s gonna be College AU Gency. Good luck to everyone still dealing with finals this coming week!

----

Genji leaned back in his seat and rubbed at his temples, his vision swimming at the peripheries before he squeezed his eyes shut. He could still feel the last few milligrams of caffeine flickering in his system as he raised his eyes to his laptop screen once more. “Okay--get it together,” he slapped his hands slightly on his cheeks to wake himself up a bit more, the cold of his prosthetic hand helped in this regard, “Thesis. Thesis. Pass, or Dad cuts you off,” he huffed out an exhalation and continued typing, though at this point, after six hours of reading and re-reading and re-writing and re-reading his own words and the pile of other books on his table, he wasn’t sure if he was just writing himself in circles.

“May I have your attention please, the library will be closing in 30 minutes,” a soothing voice sounded over the speakers, and it felt like a siren call into shutting down completely but the time limit was enough to eke the last bits of energy back into Genji’s mind. He just had to finish off his conclusion, then he could spend tomorrow actually cleaning up with his own editing. That was fine. That was good. The thesis was due in 48 hours. He was maybe 70% done with it. He had this.

 He heard the winter rain slap against the window next to him, the droplets and rivulets of water catching the orange light of the streetlights just outside of the library, sending it blurring and swimming like his own text-strained eyes. He sighed. He did not want to walk back to his dorm with the weather like this and a part of him mused on hiding out somewhere and then napping on one of the library couches, but then quickly recognized that was his own sleep-deprived lack of logic and he would, eventually, he would have to go home, and if his own brain was suggesting crap like that to him, there probably wasn’t much good it could do his thesis at this point. A few hours of sleep. That was all he needed.

 He stood up and stretched, exhaustion feeling like a slowly stacking column within his spine, and he gathered up the three empty coffee cups around his laptop, threw them away, tucked his laptop away into his bag, and picked up his books from the table. He walked over to one of the re-shelving carts to see it was already choked with books, some stacked on top and even falling off onto the floor, then he sighed again and headed over to an elevator to go up to the stacks. Just beyond the tall shelves was a wall pocked with cubby-like shelves that had series of call numbers by groups of 50. Genji moved through a narrow passage between shelves to reach this back wall, his books neatly piled in his arms. He loaded his books back into their designated-by-number shelves in a near blissfully hypnotized state, his brain elated to find a simple task where things fit where they were supposed to. Rolling his shoulders, he yawned before turning around and moving to walk out of the stacks. He was headed down between another two rows of shelves when he tripped. In his fall, he initially thought he had tripped on a pile of duffel bags but the pile he tripped on grunted and flinched hard away from him as he stumbled forward, flailing his arms to regain his balance but to no avail. He grunted as he hit the floor. 

“Sorry!” the pile of a person flinched back into a human shape, revealign themselves to be a girl pretty much drowning in the bagginess of her hoodie and sweats, “Sorry! Are you okay?” her eyes were obscured by a fringe of pale blonde hair.

“Yeah--yeah, I’m sorry-- I wasn’t looking--” said Genji, pushing himself back up to his feet. He looked back at her to see she had pulled her hood back and was rubbing the back of her neck.

“No, it’s my fault, I really didn’t mean to fall asleep here--ow...” that last sound left her as an exhaled regret.

“Yeah that didn’t look like a position someone should fall asleep in,” said Genji, extending a hand to her to help her up. She blinked at his prosthetic and he withdrew slightly. “Oh--Yeah, sometimes people get caught off guard by it--”

“Oh so it’s real!” said Mercy, taking his prosthetic and getting up to her feet, “I mean it’s--y’know I was just... wondering if I was seeing things for a second.”

“Seeing things?” said Genji.

“Well, last year I didn’t sleep for 48 hours and when I finally managed to stumble out of the library, I was convinced for... I don’t know, 8 minutes that everyone in the corners of my vision was mannequins. I mean, obviously they weren’t, and they wouldn’t be mannequins when I turned to look at them, but---I have been trying to sleep more, this quarter--I mean I wasn’t trying to sleep here, but---” she caught herself, “I’m sorry I have no idea who you are and that all sounded very crazy, didn’t it?”

“Let me guess... Pre-med?” said Genji glancing down at the open books and the notebook that had apparently been assaulted with several different-colored highlighters at their feet. 

She gave a helpless nod. “Angela,” she glanced down, saw she was still holding his hand, and gave it a shake before withdrawing her own hand and clearing her throat and pushing back her bangs from her face. Her eyes were grayish blue, bloodshot and a little distant with her own exhaustion but beautiful.

“Genji,” said Genji.

Her eyes widened, “Oh, on the Kendo team!” she said, her eyes lighting up. She gave another glance to his hand, “I should have remembered---” she gestured at his head, “And the hair, of course.” 

Genji just chuckled and ran his prosthetic hand through his green-dyed hair. “You follow the kendo team?”

“I mean, not obsessively,” said Angela, with a nervous chuckle, “But I’ve caught a practice or two, and there was that whole article about you in the campus newspaper.”

“Ah yes, the ’Prosthetic Prodigy,’” said Genji with a slight eye-roll, “I’m not even a prodigy, I just had a chance to study it longer.”

“It’s still impressive,” said Angela, with a smile.

 “Well tragically, Kendo isn’t football or basketball, so I actually have to study,” said Genji, shouldering his bag a bit.

“Let me guess: Literature,” said Angela.

“With a history minor. How’d you know?” said Genji.

“Lit majors will take any excuse to use the word ‘Tragically,’” said Angela.

“Unlike those clever and far-superior STEM-majors, falling asleep in the stacks and hallucinating mannequins,” said Genji, with a wry grin.

She snickered and elbowed him. “Rude,” she said, smiling, “I’m kidding. It was in the article.”

“Ah,” said Genji, “’Not obsessively,’ she says--”

“Hey--” Angela started.

“May I have your attention please, the library will be closing in 15 minutes,” the voice chimed over the speakers again. 

“We should probably let them clean up, shouldn’t we?” said Angela, dropping down to one knee to pick up her mess of books and notebooks.

“Here, let me--” Genji bent down and moved to help her. Their hands brushed over each other on one of the books and Angela glanced up and made eye contact with him. Neither was sure if it was the mental exhaustion or sleep deprivation that seemed to make those few seconds of contact feel longer and softer, but Genji muttered a “Sorry” and both glanced off and moved to pick up the other books, Angela clearly reddening. She brought herself up to her full height, holding her books tight to herself as she brushed some of her blonde hair back and he adjusted the bag on his shoulder.

“Guess we’re... heading out the same way then, huh?” said Genji, as they both headed out of the stacks.

“Or we could hide and sleep on the couches when all the staff heads home,” said Mercy as they stepped into the elevator together.

Genji looked at her and a short laugh escaped him. 

“That’s sleep deprivation talking, isn’t it?” said Angela as they reached their floor.

“I was thinking the same thing earlier, actually,” said Genji, as they headed out of the elevator and towards the exit, “Stress-unhinged minds think alike, it seems.”

They both fell quiet as they opened the exit door watched rain slapping against the pavement in front of the library.

“Ugh...” Genji huffed and then glanced over at Angela. He moved to take off his jacket, holding it over them both “Here, we can--”

“Oh--you don’t have to--” Angela started.

“You don’t want to get sick right before exams--” said Genji, extending the jacket over her.

“Genji,” she pulled an umbrella out of her bag.

“...Oh,” said Genji, pulling his jacket back on as she unfurled it. She brought it over both their heads. 

“You don’t have to--” Genji started.

“You don’t want to get sick right before exams,” said Angela, smiling, her voice a little hard to hear over the patter of rain on umbrella canvas.

“Doctor’s orders, huh?” said Genji as they both walked off towards the dorms.

“If we get through these exams, someday, hopefully,” said Angela, smiling.

[loviswriting]

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure: Bizarre Beach! Torn Between Scylla and Charybdis!

JJBA part 4 fan fic. Chapter 9: Finale! Operation Clean the Beach (and Bite the dust)!

Summary: During his stay in Morioh, Jotaro needs to come up with a subject for his doctoral thesis in marine biology! Strange happenings in the waters of Morioh beach piques Jotaros interest, making him investigate strange sightings of a mermaid, followed by injured surfers! In hopes of finding a subject for his thesis he teams up with Kishibe Rohan and Joseph Joestar to solve the mysterious happenings! Is it the work of an actual mermaid or is there a Stand user lurking around the corner?!

Number of chapters: 9

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Total word count for all chapters: 12 749.

Chapter 9 word count: 1713

Authors note: this is my first fan fic, I tried my best and hope you will enjoy it! You may also read it on my Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20937995/chapters/49778429

Jotaro spent the following day, together with his chil-, I mean, companion Koichi to formulate a plan for helping not only the starfish but all of Morioh beach. After a good night's rest, Jotaro went to the beach and met up with Koichi, awaiting the rest of the team to show up. The festival was still ongoing, with a lot of buzz and people there, which was to their advantage for setting the plan in motion. After about fifteen minutes everyone was there; Jotaros nephew Josuke, Josuke's bro Okuyasu, Koichi's date-mate Yukako, the local Italian delight Tonio, old man Joseph and of course Rohan the guy who can not speak Italian. Jotaro took tone, “Okay everyone, as I mentioned yesterday over the phone, we’re here today to take care of all the littering and trash that has been piling up at Morioh beach. It’s endangering the wildlife in the sea, making a couple of Stand user starfish attacking people recently, you’ve probably read the headlines… so today we’re putting a stop to that and making the environment better. Koichi hit it,” he passed over to Koichi. “Ah, yes, Jotaro-san! So, we have come up with a plan where we have tried to utilize everyone's abilities as much as we can to make the beach and the waters cleaner! You will work in teams with different tasks. The first team is the seafloor team, Okuyasu and Josuke. Rohan will use his Heaven's Door to make you able to breathe underwater. Then Okuyasu, you will erase any trash at the seafloor with your Stand, The Hand,” Koichi did not have time to finish his sentence before Okuyasu had ripped his clothes off and showing off a pair of swimming trunks underneath his clothes, bright blue with golden dollar signs on them, proceeding to flex his muscles along with his Stand The Hand behind him. “Hell yeah let’s go! I’m great at erasing things, hehehe! Leave it to me!” he boasted with confidence. “Uhm, that’s great Okuyasu-kun, but please try to not erase any actual sea life or plants down there.. and that is why you have Josuke with you! Josuke, your task is to use Crazy Diamond to heal any unhealthy or damaged sea life down there.” “Okay, got it, count on me,” Josuke nodded, not ripping his clothes off in excitement. Koichi leaned towards him and whispered, “Also please make sure that Okuyasu doesn’t do anything that’s, well... too Okuyasu, you know?” Josuke nodded with a grin and gave thumbs up. “Ahem, next team will be me, Yukako and Tonio, we’re team boat,” Koichi could once again not finish his sentence, due to Yukako bursting out in happiness. “Ooo!h I will get to be with my beloved Koichi! And the chef! Is this a romantic lunch date in a boat, with locally produced environmental friendly food?!” she jumped of joy and fiercely hugged Koichi. “DI MOLTO! I will prepare an exquisite romant-” Tonio burst out in agreement leaping forward into the hug but could not finish. At the same time, a voice muttered tiredly, “For fucks… Za Warudo,” and suddenly Tonio and Yukako stood some meters away from Koichi, with Jotaro behind them with a hand on each of their shoulders, “Continue Koichi.” Koichi felt naive not seeing this coming, but continued although being a bit startled from the sudden hugs, “Ah, yes, thanks Jotaro-san… As I was saying, we’re team boat and we are taking a boat out into the waters. Yukako, you will use your Stand Love Deluxe to form your hair into a net to collect trash from the water and try to filter out any fish that gets stuck. We will then put the trash in the boat. Don’t worry I have already made an appointment at a local beauty shop to  make your hair look fresh and amazing and afterwards I have made an appointment at Tonios for that romantic exquisite meal...” Yukako and Tonio swooned a bit and Koichi continued, “Tonio, your task will be to use your Stand Pearl Jam to prepare a delicious nutritious fertilizer that we can drop into the ocean to heal it and make the water cleaner. I have supplies loaded up in the boat. I will drive the boat and use my Echoes to locate trash in the water and also calculate a path so we cover everything.” “How fun, Bellissimo!” Tonio was happy, “Such a culinary challenge!” “Good. Now, the last team will be team beach, composed of Rohan and Joseph,” this time Koichi paused, having a feeling he would be interrupted otherwise. “Hey, I have to be with that old geezer?” Rohan said in chock, pointing to a half-asleep Joseph. “Yeah we figured it was the best choice to just have Joseph at the beach, with you.. but it won’t be that bad!” Koichi reassured the sweating mangaka, “Rohan, you’re an important spearhead in preventing further littering. You and Joseph will go around and inform people about not littering. Use your Heaven's Door to write into people that they will throw their trash in trash cans instead of littering and that they will pick up any trash they see and throw it. Joseph will then hand them a flyer about information about how important Morioh’s sealife is and the importance of throwing your trash where it belongs and to recycle. With your ability written in them, they won’t simply throw the flyer away!” Rohan nodded in approval, “That’s is a very clever idea! And I guess I will just...” he summoned Heavens Door and opened a book in Joseph, pen eagerly writing, “... write into him to do his task properly...” “OH MY GOD!” Joseph gasped after Rohan had finished writing the commands in him, “I feel a sudden urge to hand out flyers after Rohan has talked with people!” “And that just leaves Jotaro, who will communicate with everyone through walkie talkies and organize the whole operation and be where needed. He will also communicate with Morioh’s environmental committee to keep them informed about the needs of the beach and garbage disposal,” Koichi nodded to Jotaro who nodded back and then proceeded to hand out walkie talkies and items to respective teams. “Alright then,” Jotaro said when everyone had got what they needed, “Let’s commence “Operation Clean Morioh Beach! Go!” he pointed towards the water and all the teams spread out to their respective assigned area. “Oi Josuke! There will be turtles huh?! Watch out so you won’t get snapped by one of them, hehehehe!” Okuyasu teased with his friend. “Ugh, turtles!!! The worst! I’m heading to the changing room to get into my swimwear…” Josuke replied bitterly and walked away. “Yare yare…” Jotaro said and proceeded to meet up with the committee. Meanwhile in the bushes a few meters from where the gang had assembled, a certain serial killer sat hidden and had overheard the whole operation. “And here I thought they had met up to track me down today, and I just wanted to have a nice day at the festival… Can’t take any risks, I will do that another day I guess,” Kira said and walked out of the shadows, away from the beach and back towards town. “But they do have a point about caring for the environment and keeping the beach clean, don’t they, Killer Queen?” he said as a newspaper fluttered about in the wind on the ground and his ripped pink wrestler cat Stand showed up and poked the newspaper, making it explode in a tiny boom and turning it into dust, “Nyaa~” Killer Queen meowed. “I guess it's not as good as recycling it, but I don't want to soil my beautiful hands with something as dirty as that…” he scoffed, “But I guess the town too might be kind of dirty, and since my plans for the day got cancelled, I might as well…” he looked his Stand in its eyes and gave off a small smile, “Let’s go Killer Queen, we have some litter in town that needs to bite the dust,” he said and walked off into town for a better cause.

And so the evening came. The festival had quieted down and most of the people had dispersed from the beach beside a few citizens enjoying the evening sunset and the glittering ocean view. The gang had assembled at the beach once more. Bags of trash had been taken away by the garbage truck. Flyers had been handed out. Signs had been put up with the message to not litter. The water was clean. The corals and seaweed on the seafloor were healthy and healed. Yukako's hair had been brushed by Koichi. A certain punks fingers had been bitten by turtles and a certain other punk had laughed his ass off. The starfish Scylla and Charybdis had given their thanks to Jotaro and could rest easy. All was well in Morioh beach and waters. Jotaro stood in front of the gang. “Everyone… Good job today. We have helped the sealife of Morioh beach to start recovering and to spread a culture among the citizens of taking responsibility for our actions, for the sake of the environment. A single person may not be able to do much, but together we can keep our world and planet in good shape. To make it a place for both humans and animals and nature, without the expense of another. And this is a responsibility we all have, especially adults like me, who will leave this planet to further generations, like several of you. Keep up the good work everyone. Thank you,” he started to clap his hands and everyone else joined in. The operation was over and successful and the gang went out to have a lovely dinner at Tonio's. And remember, as long as we all try to do our best and take responsibility for our actions, there will always be a shining hope for the future.

This was the story of how bizarre happenings at Morioh beach led to the beach being a better place. But this was also the story of how Jotaro Kujo found the perfect subject for his doctoral thesis in marine biology; the intriguing starfish of Morioh!

Bizarre Beach! Torn Between Scylla and Charybdis! END.

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 3x01-- The One About The Recent Troubles

HI GUYS I WROTE A LOT 

New season, new naming convention. Well, it’s either that or Diane Lockhart’s joined a reboot of Friends. Jokes aside, I don’t love the new naming convention (I never watched Friends) but I don’t dislike it either. It’s fine. What I do like is that we’ve dropped any sort of counting (unless you consider “the one” counting). (I am just now realizing that last season’s episode titles were more in the TGW tradition than I thought-- they were just another form of counting). Three seasons in, TGF is its own show (with its own titles!), and that makes me very happy.

I’m about to hit play on my third viewing of this episode. I watched at 5 am on the day it was released (worth it, tbh), then again with my roommate after work that same day.

This year’s previously montage works better than last year’s, but I still don’t love it. The selection of clips seems a little random at first: Liz talking about her father? The Assholes to Avoid case that I was hoping to avoid thinking about ever again? Okay…?

It’s time for some tone-setting! “I’m happy,” Diane states as the season opens. She’s in bed with Kurt, waking up in the morning. This is one of those statements that becomes important mostly because it’s so prominent. I believe that Diane’s happy with her life and happy waking up next to her husband, but I don’t think Diane is trying to make a Thesis Statement. I think she’s just expressing that she feels good. The writers, however, definitely want us to note that Diane starts out the season in a good, happy place. This is because they are going to slowly complicate and destroy Diane’s happiness. That’s not a spoiler-- it’s a prediction.

Kurt laughs. “You like narrating your life,” he comments. Interesting.

“You know, there are psychological studies that say, when people are happy, they look desperately for things to make them unhappy. But that won’t happen to us, will it?” Diane wonders. Of course it will. I know these writers. If there’s one thing they hate it’s writing more than a few scenes of a healthy marriage.

Diane and Kurt’s new bedroom confuses me. It has an arch that seems very low and I can’t tell if that’s the angle or not. Also, we only see the area with the bed, the bathroom, and a large sitting room in this episode. It would make sense for Diane to have a bedroom suite and a separate living room/dining room/kitchen, but the way this episode is shot makes it feel like Diane and Kurt only have that one space.

Now Diane’s asking Kurt for reassurance that everything’s going to be alright, and she seems moderately worried that he doesn’t sound certain when he responds. Maybe there are still some issues there…?

“What could go wrong?” Kurt asks, and right on cue, shit starts to blow up. (By which I mean the title sequence rolls.)

New objects/shots this year include: A tea set, aerial shots of a wine bottle, coffee cups (they discovered aerial shots this year and clearly liked them a lot), the same four purses from last year but arranged differently (looks cooler now), new images on the TV (bye, tiki torch nazis), and the entire set where they staged the explosions.

The third co-creator is still listed, because his name will be attached to this show for as long as it runs, but I really want to know: what did Phil Alden Robinson even do to create the show? Invent the basic sketch of the premise and the new characters? Just today I saw him credited in an article praising season 3, and it’s my understanding that he hasn’t even touched TGF since the pilot, back before the Kings signed on.

The Kings wrote this episode, but I didn’t need the credits to tell me that. Robert directed, too, which is only surprising because I wasn’t sure if it would be him or if it would be Brooke Kennedy.

Complaining about this now before I get any farther into the episode: CBS, FIX YOUR CLOSED CAPTIONING. Someone over at All Access doesn’t believe in apostrophes and it’s driving me up a wall.

After the credits, we resume with Julius talking about Carl Reddick, founding partner of RBL and civil rights icon. Julius has to be prompted to add on that last part, but Lucca doesn’t: she read about Reddick in history books.

Lucca’s dress for the interview shouldn’t work, but she pulls it off. It has several different colors and patterns, big gold buttons, and a ruffle down one side.

Here’s Liz’s comment on her father: “When my father died, I could think of no better way to honor his life than by taking over his partnership here.” We know that’s only partially true.

Next up is Reddick’s secretary of 15 years. She refers to him as “Mr. Reddick” instead of “Carl” and seems uncomfortable talking about her experience. Jay and Marissa, who have for some reason been tasked with creating promotional materials for the firm, notice her hesitance. Marissa asks what a typical day was like, and the secretary-- Cynthia-- starts to cry.

Cut to the RBL website, which is very boring and generic. “Who are you?” a publicity consultant asks Adrian and Liz. This reminds me of two things: one, Diane and Will’s conversation in season 4 about firm identity, and two, the fact that Hitting the Fan started off with the line “You’re stable.” Isn’t that very reminiscent of this episode starting off with, “I’m happy.”?! Yikes, we must be in for a ride…

Adrian’s answer is that they are a “mid-size Chicago law firm.” Really? That’s all you’ve got? The consultant pushes further-- he wants their story. Liz says their story is that they’re growing with new hires and a new floor. The consultant isn’t happy with that, either, because he seems to believe there’s only one right answer: they’re an African American firm, and that is their entire identity. Ugh.

When TGF first started, RBK felt like a firm that had an identity  and a mission-- a commitment to giving black lawyers opportunities for success in an environment where no one would be a token, coupled with a strong focus on civil rights cases (particularly police brutality cases). I assumed that was the shared goal of Carl, Adrian, and Barbara, but the firm’s gone through enough changes that I’m willing to accept that RBL might now be struggling for an identity. Carl’s dead, Barbara was always the one who would actually put her money where her mouth is (sorry, Adrian), Diane is (as always) interested in being profitable while looking like a liberal legend, and Liz accepted partnership because it was a lucrative offer that fell into her lap right when she lost her job at the DOJ.

Adrian says he doesn’t want RBL to be sold as an African American law firm. Hasn’t he pitched it as such in the past?

“Diversity is in right now. Black Panther. Black-ish. And diversity is something you have in sp-- in abundance,” the consultant says. My God, he’s terrible. He’s also using “diverse” and “black” as interchangeable words.

Adrian gets a reprieve when Jay and Marissa call him out of his meeting, but it doesn’t last long. Cynthia, Carl’s secretary, told Jay and Marissa that Carl repeatedly sexually assaulted her.

“He forced her for 15 years? Why would Cynthia stay for 15 years?” Adrian asks incredulously. “Seriously?” Marissa replies. Woah there. I agree wholeheartedly with Marissa but just because I’d write “SERIOUSLY?” in a recap doesn’t mean I’d ever say it to a name partner with that tone! (But really: Marissa’s very right. “Why would she stay?” is a terrible argument. Cynthia had bills to pay and a family (or at least a daughter) to care for. She likely didn’t have the luxury of looking for a new job. And that’s setting aside the fact that for decades, language around sexual assault wasn’t widely known!)

Adrian asks Marissa and Jay to keep quiet, and Marissa pushes back, asking if it’s so they can cover it up. Marissa! You’re not helping your cause here!

“Marissa, I don’t have the luxury right now of being outraged. That doesn’t mean I’m not outraged,” Adrian explains.

In the hallway, Jay suggests that Marissa give Adrian (and Carl) a break, since the Reddick name brings in half of their business, and if Reddick’s name becomes toxic, the firm could be in trouble. “Well, then, maybe it should be,” Marissa responds.

I loooooooove Diane’s new hairstyle! It’s been ten years; it’s time for a change.

Diane is about to head into the office when she notices Kurt went hunting the previous night with a gun he hates. And to make matters worse, there are blonde hairs on his jacket and Kurt won’t admit he went shooting with anyone. Well, I guess Diane’s happiness didn’t last very long at all.

Maia has a scratched cornea, so she’s wearing big sunglasses. “I wouldn’t wear those when you meet with the partners,” Marissa says, planting a bad idea in Maia’s mind. The sunglasses take two seconds to explain, and no one is going to fault her for this. If Maia didn’t get fired for not doing any work over a two year period, she’s going to be just fine wearing medically-required sunglasses to an internal meeting.

Julius wants to talk to Maia and explains that on the new website, they’re adding associate and partner bios. They just might not be adding Maia’s. “Don’t take it as a criticism. You’re doing a great job,” Julius says. This is basically the only circumstance in which I understand giving Maia praise: trying to keep her from causing a scene by stroking her ego.

Since Maia took off her sunglasses, she now appears to be crying. Since Maia lacks common sense, she does not explain why she is crying, leading Julius to keep heaping on the praise and explain the obvious (it’s about her parents’ scandal). Maia says she understands and that “this is all medical.” THAT’S SO VAGUE, MAIA. You’re looking for the sentence you just said to Marissa: “I have a scratched cornea.” I know this moment is supposed to be funny. It just makes Maia look impressionable (she took off the glasses) and slow (she can’t easily navigate out of this situation when the exit route is obvious). I already think Maia is both of those things, so I’m not complaining about this scene (I did laugh!), it’s just…  Maia, why???

Julius is so confused by Maia’s odd reaction that he goes straight to Lucca’s office. Lucca is pumping and doesn’t care who sees, because she’s the fucking best. Julius asks Lucca to talk to Maia about the website.

Diane’s still thinking about the hair when she arrives at RBL. Marissa greets her with an empty mug, I mean, with coffee. Diane asks what Adrian wants to talk to her about, and Marissa says, “I’ve been told I speak too much, so I won’t handle that.” If Marissa weren’t so good at her job she’d need to watch out.

Marissa tries to join Adrian and Diane’s meeting, and Adrian slowly closes the door in her face. Marissa walks away. I love it when this show emphasizes that their main players aren’t all of equal status at the firm, and this episode does a fantastic job of showing it.

Adrian explains the Reddick issue to Diane. He’s (wisely) chosen to go to Diane before Liz about this.

Adrian’s plan is to have Cynthia sign an NDA, and now there’s a “Good Fight Short” to educate us about NDAs. God, this show is weird and I love it.

“Think they’re maybe always in a red folder but I didn’t do my research that well” cracks me up.

“Let’s try to count all the red folders in the show today. You know what who cares just pay attention, put your phone away,” the song continues. Okay, show, I’ll listen to you and put my phone (on which I’m watching this show) away and go run my errands. That’s what you wanted, right?

A storm rolls in as Adrian and Diane pay Cynthia a visit. Thunder is dramatic, in case you were unaware.

Adrian tells Cynthia he knew nothing about Reddick’s behavior. He reaches for the NDA a little too quickly and Diane slows things down.

Adrian promises they’ll have sexual harassment training moving forward. Cynthia reminds him that they’ve always had that-- but partners never attended. Or, apparently, remembered that it existed.

Diane and Adrian hear pots and pans banging in the kitchen and realize that Cynthia’s daughter is home. That complicates things because the daughter anticipates the NDA and doesn’t want her mom to sign.

When Cynthia leaves the room, Adrian comments to Diane that “this house, it reminds me of my aunty’s house.” Diane just smiles, probably because that’s a reference she can’t understand.

The partners hold a secret meeting without Liz, which is certainly a way to handle this but probably not the optimal way. Liz should know what’s going on before any NDAs concerning her firm are created.

Liz notices that the offices are empty, and asks Marissa (who’s walking past) where everyone is. “I have no idea. I’m just staying on the sidelines today,” Marissa says unhelpfully. Great attitude. Very professional. As you’d expect, Liz is not satisfied with that answer.

Downstairs, the MANY partners of RBL are debating next steps. Why do they always pack these partner meeting scenes with so damn many extras? How many partners am I meant to believe they have?!

As we learned in the Assholes to Avoid episode, the most interesting thing about #MeToo is that it’s controversial and leads people to talk over each other. That’s what’s happening in this scene, but it works far better than the show’s last attempt at showing this idea. Unsurprisingly, when they have more to say than just “controversial topic is controversial” they do better.

And, I’m not sure where to put it so I’ll just say it here, I think the Kings have more to say about #MeToo, and a new (and better) angle on it because it hit closer to home. This plot isn’t a reenactment of what happened with Moonves, but the ideas it explores? Once you think about Moonves and the role he had in bringing TGW to life (and keeping it on the air), it’s all you’ll see. This plot is the Kings reckoning with how to move forward and create distance after a powerful man in no small part responsible for their own success turns out to be a serial harasser.

And that’s so much more interesting than “what if we took the Aziz Ansari thing but removed all nuance?” TGW, and TGF, wouldn’t have existed without Les Moonves. I’m pretty certain I’ve heard the Kings and Julianna-- and probably other cast members-- speak glowingly about him (before the allegations, obvs). He allowed TGW to flourish (and TGF to exist, which is kind of amazing when you think about it) while also enabling sexual assault all throughout CBS.  

The reason for this meeting? Now they want to pay Cynthia off. Diane suggests letting the story surface, emphasizing that Carl did good things and bad things. Diane also, wisely, notes that if they pay someone off, then it becomes the whole firm’s problem. But it seems they might have already paid someone off, so it’s too little, too late. RBK had, in 2012, agreed to cover all of Reddick’s sexual harassment suits. (This is, apparently, “standard” for CEOs, barf.)

I’d still like to dig into Diane’s “just own it” idea a little more, but I do see why the other partners (the ones who were actually there for the bulk of the time Reddick was) shut it down.

Then Wendy, the stenographer, speaks up: Carl Reddick assaulted her, too. If there are two, there are more than two, and I’m surprised that Liz is the first person to suggest this.

At home, later, Diane scrolls through Netflix (not a streaming site, this is Netflix’s layout with different shows), unable to decide what to watch. I’m sad to report none of the fake shows are any fun, and none of them are Darkness at Noon. I guess Darkness at Noon is probably on AMC All Access, behind a paywall…

Kurt arrives home and asks what Diane’s doing. “Figuring out whether to watch a German series about serial killers or a Scandinavian series about serial killers,” Diane replies. Haven’t we all been there? That’s scrolling through Netflix in one sentence.

Diane has “helped” Kurt pack for a trip, and THANK GOD, she’s not kicking him out (that’s how scenes where the husband arrives home to find his bags packed always go). She’s passive-aggressively packing for his upcoming trip she discovered on their credit card account.

Kurt’s going on a safari. Diane says she doesn’t shoot anymore (I guess since 2x10?) and wants to know who Kurt’s going with. Shouldn’t Kurt be telling Diane if he’s going to go on a safari?

Kurt senses something’s up and asks what’s wrong. Diane says work has her thinking about “men.” Then she tells Kurt she doesn’t think he’s being honest and says she doesn’t like pretending to be the “cool wife who overlooks lies.” Is “Cool Wife” a variation of “Cool Girl” and if so, can we get a Gillian Flynn novel about it, please?

Finally, the truth emerges: Kurt isn’t hiding an affair (though Diane briefly suspects he’s seeing someone named “Holly Westfall” again… idk, have we ever heard that name? Nothing’s coming to mind, because Kurt never cheated on Diane and Peter’s trial never happened.). He’s giving private shooting lessons to 45’s sons.

My GOD, Diane’s reaction.

I love how every time Diane says “safari” she says it with a little more disbelief in her voice.

Kurt says this is just a job; he’s being paid. Can he take someone else’s money then? How strapped for cash is he? This is like the “we’re defense attorneys!” line Diane always goes back to. SURE, but you don’t have to take EVERY case to be profitable.

Diane proceeds to start BANGING HER HEAD AGAINST THE WALL, REPEATEDLY. This scene is simultaneously comedic, dramatic, and ridiculous and I love it. I’m not sure how it manages to feel far-fetched and also character-driven at the same time, but hey, it works.

Diane storms out, saying she’s going to do something she should’ve done nine months ago: conjure up space bugs. Okay, no, she’s making contact with her FuzzyFuzzyCuteCute friend, but she’s doing so in a way that involves moving lots of flowers to her windowsill, and THAT’S HOW YOU DRAW IN THE SPACE BUGS.

In case I haven’t said it enough times, TGF in some ways seems more like it’s a continuation of BrainDead than TGW.

Diane talks to Tara and asks her to break her NDA (some legal nonsense) and come forward with allegations that 45 paid for her abortion. Tara asks Diane why now, and Diane’s answer is kind of bullshit: “because now it’s personal.” And it wasn’t before?! And that matters?! (I believe it from Diane, but come on. You need it to be personal to fight this as hard as you can? The fact that this administration’s policies are having catastrophic effects on families isn’t enough?)

Adrian finally shows Liz the interview with Cynthia, and Audra McDonald could win an Emmy for her reaction shots alone (I can’t say enough times how pleased I am with the addition of Liz). Adrian draws the curtains of Will’s office, I mean Liz’s office, to give them some privacy. Good move.

Liz wants to know if Adrian knew, and she has good reasons to believe he might have. For one, when they were married, Adrian asked how her parents were doing-- suggesting they might have reason to not be doing so well.

Liz goes into her bathroom (first time we’ve seen this set, though we’ve obviously known it existed from ~Willicia sexytimes~) (Not to derail this recap entirely, but does anyone else ever wonder how Willicia would’ve played in this day and age? I wouldn’t consider it assault or harassment because it was obviously consensual, but I don’t know that you can do a boss/employee romance plot as easily today as you could in 2011.)

Liz, through tears, confesses that her father didn’t always treat her mom (or “us”-- I assume meaning Liz and any siblings she may have) well. She’d always rationalized it as the part of “sharing him with the world” while he was “fighting,” but “he was just here.” God, this is devastating, and this scene is spectacularly done.

Adrian tries to comfort Liz, but she realizes something: Adrian put in the glass walls. She wants to know why. Was he trying to force Carl to be more transparent about something? Liz remembers her dad complaining about the glass walls. Adrian says it was just a design choice. Liz doesn’t believe it, but she’s moved on to other things. She’s putting on her jacket and trying to decide her next move. She angrily opens up the curtains even though she’s about to leave her office (just to show that she values transparency) and marches down to the partner’s meeting.

Everyone quiets down when Liz walks in. She grabs a notepad and a chair and begins to take an active role in negotiating payouts. Julius mentions Wendy, and Liz didn’t know about Wendy yet. Her reaction? A long pause, and then: “My dad raped the stenographer?”

Have I mentioned yet that Audra’s great? She delivers the line with a fantastic blend of anger and resignation. And I love the line itself, particularly the use of the word “rape.” Aside from Cynthia’s daughter, Liz is the first person in the episode to call Carl’s actions what they are, and it’s meaningful to hear the word from her. Liz isn’t shying away from what her father did; she is trying to figure out how to name it and address it. Pretty remarkable.

Liz volunteers to make the deal with Cynthia. She immediately begins to ask Jay for help, but she thinks again and goes to Marissa instead (and says “rape” again) to find out if there are any others. Adrian and Diane should’ve had Marissa on this yesterday.

LUCCA!!!!!!!!!!

Sorry I’m just happy to see Lucca Quinn, who is the best and does not get nearly enough screentime. Because Lucca is the best, she’s meeting with the partners. She thinks something must be wrong-- that she’s about to be fired (no!!! I don’t even like thinking about that!!). But nothing is wrong. “In fact, consider this a promotion,” Adrian says. He offers Lucca the position of head of divorce law. (What are the odds we get through this arc without a cameo from David Lee?)

People who know more about the law than I do, is this even remotely plausible? Shouldn’t this be Lucca’s specialty if we’re going to see her head it up? Have we ever seen her on a divorce case?

The guy they had hired to head up divorce law had “harassment issues at his last firm.” “And that’s a problem these days?” Lucca jokes, not knowing just how bad her timing is. No one else laughs. (I! Love! Scenes! That! Show! That! Some! Of! The! Characters! Are! Junior! Staff!)

Lucca does not seem to want this promotion, but she realizes she’s being told, not asked.

Meanwhile, Maia’s spending her work day staring at the company website. Adrian stops by to see her (guess Lucca didn’t talk to her) and console her about the website. Maia now chooses to explain her scratched cornea. She doesn’t explain it clearly, so Adrian continues with his speech. “This is not a reflection of how we feel about you. It’s a branding thing.”

I suppose the same could also be said of the fact that the main poster for this season of TGF features Diane, Adrian, and Lucca when the first two seasons had posters featuring Diane, Maia, and Lucca. Maia adds less value, to the show and to the firm!!!!!

(I don’t hate this Maia plot, I just think it’s silly and unnecessary, and Maia’s still done nothing to prove to me that she’s interested in her job and/or good at it.)

“You keep up the good work,” Adrian says. Forget good work. What WORK?

The partners fussing over the website has made it a Big Deal for Maia, and now she’s pissed! Luckily, Marissa’s there to teach her how to be a badass.

“I’m a third year associate, and they are treating me like I was hired yesterday,” Maia fumes. Well, are you doing the work of a third year associate, or are you doing the “work” of a new hire who hasn’t yet been staffed on projects and just stares at the company website all day? Hmmmmm?

Marissa blames this on “the curse of short people.” Is Maia short? She’s never seemed short. Rose Leslie is, according to Google, 5’6”, which is hardly short! Then Marissa starts rambling about “the volcano of Vulcan” and, whatever, Marissa, I think Maia’s problem is that she has scumbag parents, not that she’s short.

Marissa’s advice-- which is basically to be more confident-- isn’t bad advice. But that’s not why Maia’s not on the website. Maia could be Lucca levels of incredible and her name would still look toxic on the website.

Maia’s so awkward she makes me look confident.

Marissa commands a “tall lady” not to wash her hands after using the bathroom and what, that’s gross, why are you doing this Marissa?

Marissa has a gift for Maia: Sunglasses that are “cool.” Marissa then breaks the doctor-approved sunglasses. Seems… unwise.

New, cool Maia gets a theme song and a leather jacket. She makes quite an impression on the image consultant in the elevator, and he asks her out. She rejects him. Ha ha.

Liz and Jay head to Cynthia’s next. They remember meeting each other before. Liz mentions the NDA, and Cynthia responds, “Your father wasn’t a bad man.” “I don’t understand how you can feel that way after everything that he did,” Liz replies.

Liz seems like she’s close to getting a signature on the NDA when Naomi Nivola, the reporter from 2x05, appears at her door asking about sexual harassment. Cynthia’s daughter tipped her off. I’m very happy to see Naomi again, not because I think she’s a wonderful character but because I thought Adrian’s “starfucking” excuse was too weak of a conclusion to her plotline last season. I’m almost glad to know she still holds a grudge, because it doesn’t let Adrian off the hook for some shitty behavior. Adrian isn’t Carl Reddick levels of disgusting but he’s done some troublesome things (and the way he talks to the female characters is a little condescending, no??)

(I went to re-read my thoughts on 2x05 and Naomi as I was writing this, and apparently I said I thought an episode about NDAs as they relate to #MeToo would be interesting. Hah!)

It’s still raining.

“I’ll talk to Naomi, find out what she knows,” Adrian decides. “You?! No,” Liz replies. Adrian actually asks why not!!!

Liz goes to settle with the stenographer next, and, again, she insists on doing it herself.

Maia is holding an NDA and sitting out at one of the associate desks, surrounded by a bunch of black men (does the firm have female associates?). Maia’s holding a red folder, and while that should mean she’s working on a case, she probably just picked it up because it was BOLD LIKE HER. What are work files if not accessories to make you look badass?

Maia’s also got her feet up on the desk. YOU’RE AT WORK, GIRL.

Julius asks Maia to move her feet. “Yeah? What do you need?” she replies. Julius is too stunned to actually play rank. Maia takes this as a victory. She shouldn’t. She can do this once, maybe twice, before it stops being cute and confusing and starts looking like what it is: an entitled white girl acting out and being disrespectful. If she wants to create distance from her parents’ scandal-- the actual issue here-- then she needs to be mature and develop a plan to work around it. She could, for example, take on lots of charity work and write an op-ed about deciding to help turn her dad in, and what she’s learned about the world from having her world crash down. Acting out in designer boots, red lipstick, and sunglasses is going to make Maia look like the oblivious child of privilege she is.

Why does this show insist on saying that Maia’s biggest weakness is her lack of boldness? She’s just awkward. She’s plenty confident. She just expresses it poorly.

I know this is a comedic subplot but Maia does not really behave like a human being??? Who would have that interaction and then feel self-satisfied? This is her place of work!!! She looks ridiculous!! She just talked back to a partner!!

Wendy doesn’t want to sign the NDA, and she doesn’t want any money. She says she’ll never tell anyone, because “there are so many people who want to destroy men. Black men.” And she doesn’t want to be a part of it. Interesting perspective, not one I agree with but one I’m pleased the writers included because it adds some nuance to the episode’s exploration of #MeToo.

Naomi and Jay talk in a not-very-interesting scene that includes some weird and unnecessary close ups of Jay. Main takeaway: Naomi thinks it’s Adrian who assaulted Cynthia.

Don’t really get why it’s great that Naomi thinks it’s Adrian. I suppose she’s a good enough journalist she wouldn’t publish a story there was no evidence for, but Adrian being able to deny it without lying hardly seems like cause for celebration. And would Naomi really drop it if Adrian said he didn’t rape anyone?

Eric and Don bailed on the safari, so Kurt’s still around. He winces when Diane hugs him, and Diane doesn’t let it slip. Kurt, being Kurt, says nothing is wrong.

He goes to the bathroom, and Diane’s phone rings. It’s Tara saying she won’t come forward.

Diane joins Kurt in the bathroom (lots of scenes in bathrooms this ep) and notices he has a huge bruise on his shoulder because Eric or Don shot him. We don’t get to find out-- and neither does Diane-- because Kurt’s signed an NDA about the incident. HAHAHA!

Adrian has his interview with Naomi. He denies they’ve asked Cynthia to sign an NDA, and denies he harassed her. And that’s it, until Naomi reveals THE REAL STORY: Assholes to Avoid.

I wonder, IRL, how much this would hurt the firm. I also am still not sure why they took that damn case. 2x05 and whichever ep was Assholes (I mentioned I’m glad we’re not counting days anymore, right?) annoyed me more than basically any other s2 episode because they were tied up so neatly, so I’m happy to see both cases come back to complicate things.

Now shit gets weird. I assume this next scene is one of the “soliloquies” the Kings mentioned that the season would include, and I like the idea more than the execution. The characters taking turns verbalizing their inner thoughts in eloquent speeches to no one? Sure! I’m down! Diane suddenly beginning to talk to a Trump-shaped bruise THAT MOVES AND TALKS in the middle of an episode? I’ll just say I hope they’re not all like this.

“The footman to the king. I am married to the footman to the king,” Diane starts. Then TrumpBruise talks back (don’t love this impersonation). I think this would work just fine as a monologue, and I definitely don’t need the animation. I couldn’t see it the first time through and the episode was better for it.

Anyway, Diane’s upset that Kurt’s become a worthless servant to a family she loathes, and she connects this to her ongoing thoughts on the State of Masculinity.

“What has happened to men? Where did the real guys go? Why do we now have these snide little creatures with slicked-back hair and cologne? What happened to Paul Newman and Burt Lancaster? What happened to men who were slow to anger and responsible and who didn’t cry like whiny little bitches? When did Trump and Kavanaugh become our idea of an aggrieved man, quivering lips, blaming everyone but themselves? You’re not fit to kiss my husband’s feet. A truthful man, uncomplaining, never passing the buck, never punching unless he’s punched. When did he become the exception?” Okay. But toxic masculinity is not a new thing. This isn’t insightful enough for me to applaud it and it’s not offensive/wrong enough for me to actually want to dissect it. I like that the show’s taking risks and like the soliloquy idea but this is… meh.

Bruise starts talking about how happy he is. He’s taunting Diane (well, technically, Diane is criticizing herself) because she was happy earlier, and now she’s not and this asshole Bruise is sooooo happy.

So Diane’s solution is to leak Tara’s abortion. Interestingly, she imagines TrumpBruise calling her out on breaking Tara’s confidence. Implying that Bruise has a conscience (or enough savvy to push her buttons), even one fueled by Diane’s imagination, feels weird to me. Diane’s imagining Bruise has a conscience?!

FRANCESCA IS STILL AROUND!!! My wish to ditch Colin and keep his mom came true!

Francesa is singing “I Wanna Be Sedated” to her grandson. Of course she is.

I’m unclear on a few things with this scene: who is Francesca talking to? Does Francesca know them? This must be Lucca’s house (?) if Francesca is leaving and taking calls for Lucca, but why does Lucca have a land line, and why would a client be calling her on it?

Francesca has an Instagram. God, I would love it if that account existed.

Lucca’s baby is really cute. What’s the kid’s name? Is it Joseph?

Francesca tells Lucca she’s the perfect divorce lawyer. Anyone else feel like we missed a scene or three with this Lucca/divorce law plot? Why would Francesca say that? Does she know about the opportunity? Was Lucca working divorce cases and doing great? MORE LUCCA NOW.

Maia’s still wearing her sunglasses the next day (unclear if this is for medical reasons or because she doesn’t know when to just stop). She’s sitting in on a meeting of the partners about the new Assholes scandal.

Adrian says they need to get their story straight, that they didn’t know they were taking down the site. That’s blatantly false, and Maia speaks up to say so. Adrian says they didn’t. Um, they did. Julius asks Maia to step out, and Lucca, who has a seat at the table, defends Maia. Julius says “this should be a partner thing” and Maia gets up to leave. Lucca, who is also not a partner unless we did, indeed, miss multiple Lucca scenes, asks Maia for her opinion.

On her way out, Maia says RBL should “own it. Our client wanted us to take down a #MeToo site. We didn’t agree, but we took it down. Because we’re that good.” Meh. That’s really the only way out of this. But as a client, I would not be reassured by that, especially not if I had brought my business to a firm specifically because of its values.

Adrian takes Badass!Maia’s advice, word for word. And it works. This particular client also wants to know who Maia Rindell is. He typed in ReddickBoseman.net instead of .com (but WHY) and it landed on a “really really cool” page about Maia.

Liz and Adrian immediately go to find this cool site, and Adrian shows how hip he is by typing a url in the search bar. What pops up is a site with the RBL logo and several ~fashionable~ pictures of Maia and her Miraculous Sunglasses. It’s hilariously terrible. They’re not bad pictures, but it’s sooooooooooooooooo inappropriate and ridiculous. It’s also unnecessary, and I know I’m overthinking a sight gag (and it is an effective sight gag) but if Maia wanted to be on the website that badly, she could have, you know, SAID SO instead of making a fucking website.

Lol @ Maia staging a photoshoot at the office. Why wouldn’t she?

The website has the tagline “younger-tougher-smarter”. Well, one of those things is true, and you all know which one it is.

Cynthia’s back, in the office, to sign the NDA. She does.

Marissa’s prepared her research on Carl Reddick. She leaves it with Liz, in a green folder.

Diane goes to Naomi with Tara’s story. We don’t hear her tell it, so there’s a chance she thought better of it, but omg, how shitty, Diane!!!!!

Liz and Adrian share a drink. Adrian says he did suspect that Carl might have been having an affair, he just never thought it was assault.

“Your dad was really good to me, Liz. He’s the reason I have a career,” Adrian explains. “Me too,” Liz says, raising her glass. Damn. I don’t think those words were chosen unintentionally. Lots of layers to this scene.

Adrian decides to lighten the mood by mocking the image consultant. Liz, who’s wearing heels similar to the ones Maia was wearing earlier and has her feet up just like Maia did, comes up with an identity for the firm: “We’re a firm with no past. Not anymore. We’re starting over. That’s refreshing.”

Then they toast to Peter Florrick’s State’s Attorney campaign slogan/the writer’s perpetual favorite phrase: “New beginnings.” But it’s still storming, and the folder with all of Carl Reddick’s past misdeeds is sitting feet away. Dramatic!

As the credits roll, there’s an actual count of all the red folders in the episode. Heh.

I’m very on board with this season so far. Can’t wait to see what happens next!

Couldn’t all the episodes of this show (and TGW) be called The One About the Recent Troubles, though???