#probably an awful word vomit of opinions but like. i just finished reading it and im like sir why do i do this

[raikoren]

some onions bout the bnha manga since im reading it in jp nao

the more i read of bnha the more i realise. i kind of fucking hate this series. it’s got all the ingredients of the classic old big 3. brilliant art, a cool character here or there (sometimes), bursts of muddled clunky progression but a cool fight to soothe the pacing and the mostly frustrating boring uninteresting pussy story choices! the sloppy sort of toothless writing only shounen jump editors can give me. it really truly reminds me of how i felt reading bleach .. but it hasnt got the same charm to make me forgive it. the artist is really really talented though absolutely adore some layouts especially when handguy is included and we get some cool reaching illustrations. he and his team are commendable for making such polished work week in week out and its genuinely so fun to read from an art perspective and i really like the fact he leans very heavily into a much looser style that makes everything stretch in a satisfying way as if its designed for animation despite being so complex in its illustration.

its one of those series that is painfully mediocre shounen and you can immediately tell that by the fact that even in this hammy nonserious plot, somehow, the female characters still get completely fucking shafted as excpected. they literally do almost fuck all and the big three characters that get the most development and are considered in-universe ‘main characters’ all happen to be male despite the entire main cast supposedly being the absolute best of the best at the best of this top superhero school.

yaomomo is probably one of the most egregious examples. a character whos top of the class, who got in on recommendations (just like the other deuteragonist) with only three other students making the cut and her big character conflict was that she for some reason, felt inferior to todoroki shouto, whose initial character arc revolves around the fact that ‘he’s not trying his best’. it’s notable that todoroki is never considered to be some freak of nature genius in the same way other characters, he’s impressive but there are stronger. but for some reason, his superiority over yaomomo is pivotal to her character. she doubts her own decision making skills compared to his due to losing so badly at the sports festival against fumikage.

now lets see here: this fucking emotionally constipated idiot who is noted in writing to not using his full potential since he has no motivation to actually win, handicapping his own abilities for most of the time due to crippling personal issues, who ALSO completely jobbed at the festival and gave up at the last match against bakugou and suffered a humiliating defeat because he lacks shame and conviction and who ALSO got in on recommendations? todoroki is an interesting character in his own right, hes strong but his flaws are glaringly evident and interesting. but for some reason he gets elevated to this position of being yaomomo’s ‘wall’.

hes not a team player, yes hes notably perceptive but to position the realtionship between momo and him like this it feels like such a pointless angle to work in cause its so antithetical to yaomomos whole characterisation and contradicts her entire background for .. what? shes got such a strong natural-leader type personality or she is attempting to have one despite the author somehow forgetting. yes she’s nervous and panics sometimes, but i think her entire character arc is intended for her to overcome this as the main crux. there is no doubt that yaomomo is strong. she is excellent as a leader, works extremely well in a team, has a level head and every single time we see her the author always brings it back round to the fact she is an excellent strategist and everyone looks to her to make a tactical decision. almost like her entire character revolves around leadership and self-confidence.

but compared to how shes portrayed against a ‘tactician’ like midoriya for example you would literally never guess that about her unless they didnt spoonfeed it to you that yes, this character is supposed to be smart sorry we keep making her look inept despite her entire character skill and ability being completely and utterly centred around this main concept teehee.

even compared to yoarashi (who i love), who also got in on recommendations, she doesnt get the same level of merit in the fiction. shes never truly made out to be a big deal in the same way the others are which not only fucking blows but makes the story more and more of a grating power up treadmill like a classic shounen jump manga without any of the charm or love. interesting characters like yaomomo who have clear visions are easily pushed aside and their traits sidelined to put more emphasis on other characters.

plus when she does get to make a big decision the narrrative acts like ‘oh was it even the right choice?! did we even make it worse!???’ which would be an interesting introspection for the headstrong characters who jump straight into shit, a reprieve from the individual bullshittery they can pull off without consequence but even though we set this character up specifically to make the right tactical decision in a pinch were not even gonna give her that satisfaction of being a HERO in this situation in this hammy feel-good plot cause thats reserved for the cool main character. its truly fucking unbearable. in the next few panels the main big trio of strong characters are making thoughtless decisions left right and centre with no hesitation or comment from the narrative with no internal struggle but here we are .. at what should be the culmination of a character arc that just .. falls fucking flat. for one of the bigger characters in the supporting cast of the series.... man the writing is just so poor.

you could say that trying to set up some linear character development where ‘girl is strong > gets confidence shaken > confidence comes back’ struggle contrasting against her ojou-sama calm and secretly playful demeanour is meant to be interesting and give her depth but honestly its just played straight in the most truly boring way but its ok! todoroki said keep your chin up queen and shes fine now. hes gonna go save aizawa-sensei with no input, no plan and be a hero because being hero is just about being the main character! everyone else can fuck off. she really needed that validation since she most likely will not have her own achievements, being recognised by this moron is her progression as a character despite her own character arc being infinitely more interesting and nuanced.

i do not expect a lot from a shounen manga sir, i came in with middling expectations and to look at some cool art whilst i awkwardly practice my japanese and yet. here we fucking are. i keep reading this hoping we get some comeuppance or some result but man. i feel like bnha is actually one of the series i wont bother keeping up with at all. the practice was really good! dont get me wrong its a great light read but im honestly surprised at how skewed the actual story is compared to fanworks. i just wanted some easy jp practice but i became weirdly invested in this probably cause i have a huge bias with cool character designs and the anime production was so ambitious.

o yea and one other thing. with tsu, ochako and nejire being introduced as going on the hassaikai raid but then completely sidelined at the first boss, essentially being relegated to being the mob charas that fits the thematic needs of that one random villain character it was sooo fucking lame. it really felt like the midboss had more thematic weight than these three girls first big fight. they were truly only there to fit the ‘lust’ theme they couldve been replaced by anyone else with tits.

in that arc too, midoriya definitely stepped on my toes the most since he took up moments that i thought would be more meaningful and appropriate with the other dot-eye dude that fell compleltey flat with him, got to use possibly the coolest fucking villain as a beatstick meter to show idk he had even more of a god mode i guess sometimes thanks to taking eri into battle instead of ykno relying on the other UA students and also giving them time to shine rather than interspersing flashbacks and shit before every meaningful fight to show ‘hey look how much this character has grown’ in the most cop out sort of storytelling. jirou i think at least gets some life written into her with meeting her parents and the ua school festival arc showing her talents and passion but shes barely utilised too and hagakure is a literal noncharacter her gag is barely even included half the time. mina gets some characterisation but even then its in the form of through another male character, kirishima, and in both instances its like the two are fighting for the spotlight of relavance which is a shame cause theyre both cooooooooooooool aaaaaaaa. every single girl character just feels like an ‘add-on’ or an afterthought, even moreso than the already forgotten secondary cast of which the most interesting dynamics and characters libe (denki and fumikage are cool!).

plus one gripe is that literally 5 separate girl characters have the same “oho they have to take their clothes off for their quirk to work ohooohgoho! so nautghty guess it cant be helped” and that just makes me like. you fucking suck at this bro just be horny with your whole chest making them have a flimsy embarassed half-excuse to be horny is lame. if you wanna make horny characters just fucking do it! enough of this stupid preamble you have to shoehorn in to every character every fucking time. just make it slutty and move on. there’s no need to be so annoyingly coy about it. also UA is the best most prestigious hero course and the girls who are going to become the top pro heroes go to their internship and its a fkn beauty commercial and its like. if they were at least building towards some commentary that female pro heroes are treated less seriously than their male counterparts like with mt.ladys flirting and her immediate paparazzi who takes pics of her ass, or to show that to become popular it means some level of corporate gameplaying and fanservice, it could be something but theres literally zero effort to comment or build on it at all its literally just presented as is and played straight. this is what it means to be a girl hero. that’s all. no comment.

i feel like miruko was a half-hearted attempt to remedy the lack of girl heroes that are actually strong and not bg props but its like it just feels like its been written as they go along with no overarching theme, nothing being built on or anything to say and it just feels so unsatisfying to read. characters that are introduced regularly get used at beatsticks to show how strong they are and get obliterated soon after to serve to show how cool and totally serious this new villain is ykno??? its so fucking tired a really classically shit kind of pointless circling narrative, like nothing truly has any weight to it and everything is meaningless before one for alls almighty relevance and power and whatever the plot needs has suddenly always existed lol dont worry bout it bro it was totally always there heres a star wars reference!

imo outside of the mangas art, the best thing about bnha is the anime adaptation with the exception of season4. the concept of having a long running shounen but giving it ample time, and a higher ambition in terms of production value and having a just absolutely fucking solid staff really make the first three seasons of bnha anime. naturally the voice acting and sound is anime standard gold but the production cant be understated it pulls so much of the slack. the direction and pacing of the first three seasons is honestly really well done, it feels like stuff builds up with ample time and we get much more focus on the background characters even in simple ways like introducing new group shots etc that give them much needed characterisation. one of my fave episodes is s3e3 which gives us a feeling of actual life and interaction as the kids train hard and get to spend an evening together having a bbq and its honestly full of just like group shots, framing in a way that really truly makes it a believable group of good kids trying their best at summer camp and gives almost everyone some much needed screentime.

one thing i noted as well is that the anime really likes to drive home important emotional points for certain characters through some great character acting - like yaoyorozus pivotal fight with fumikage is barely a passing glance in the manga whereas the anime really captures her desperation and panic as she tries her absolute best to react to the situation, not giving up even as shes overpowered only to realise in horror shes already lost. theres so much more weight and time given to this match and tbh its annoying that something that is meant to be so pivotal is barely glossed over in the manga since its so important to her future character motivations. it feels like when these moments and the strength of the supporting characters is lacking, the main story beats become more and more blatantly repetitive. some of the best parts of the arc are the bakugo rescue plan but were always served a fresh bland helping of izuku midoriya being the main character over utilising the strengths of other characters in this pivotal situation. it’s not like theres any fear of giving other characters ‘origin’ chapters and handing over the reigns away from midoriya it just for some reason, the author chooses not to really bother fleshing out characters who dont have immediate plot relavance or not the main three which makes the whole cast weaker.

imo even the anime is suffering from the source materials holes and its own slightly shoddy choices in direction with season 4 for some reason deciding to faithfully adapt the awful pacing of the overhaul arc and faithfully make it as dry as possible and devoting a solid 6 episodes to the frankly lame school festival arc despite it clearly suffering for time in the first half. it also includes my new least favourite trope of cutting the sound design completely to a slow vocal track along with the most eye wateringly boring fight pacing it was literally like. sir i want to skip this. you are going to make me watch this stupid fight with the dude whos character motivations got explained to me three seconds ago? with a new power up for green boy? with no sound design so theres even less weight to this whole fucking fight? and youre not even going to let me listen to you say run? how fucking dare you do this to me. the anime adaptation cannot stand on its own two legs with the source material alone. it needs strong direction to patch up the holes or stellar animation to distract me since without either its truly a weak weak show.

i know i already talked about it but really wish overhaul and his whole arc was handled better since i felt like it had promise. the wild shift in tone as i was reading was actually pretty surprising and the whole premise reminds me of how fucking nutty and exciting the yorknew city arc in hxh was for that series. the possibility of building how the actual underworld functions, which is tantalisingly never truly talked about in a world of cartoony heroes and villains was interesting and i was ready to see what organised crime with fucking superpowers could bring to the table plus all the new characters really looked damn cool. but overhaul himself, despite his fucking amazing intro and his title of no.2 in the underworld after all for one was in like 12 chapters and the arc literally served to introduce a plot device then fuck off with all its characters immediately having no impact at all and not even utilising the introduced concepts of the yakuza, organised crime and drugs in the age of quirks in any fuckin way. the majority of development came from fucking flashbacks literally seconds before a fight and they were scarce with anything interesting. like SIR WHAT A WASTE I HAD FINALLY FOUND MY GRIMMJOW AGAINST THESE UNSEXY LoV LOSERS WITH NO CHARISMA AND YET everyone keeps telling me that it was just a weak arc and the others are better. but having read them i think its just emblematic of the sort of writing style which prioritises having cool ‘moments’ for its beloved main character over a a cool interesting solid story that produces amazing moments and has the insane shounen payoff that you expect.  

my closing thoughts are that its at least a solid manga to read whilst eating breakfast a solid 3/10 and probably higher if you like little broccoli boy and for some reason want him to win. which i dont. he has a terminal case of unlikable bland shounen mc syndrome and the worst thing is that he didnt used to be like that, he grew into it. his whole character is such a waste to me, turning him into the chosen special one with the greatest quirk is the most boring path possible for someone who had such a strong desire and conviction to be a hero. that we see building themselves up out of their own merit for most of the series and then suddenly giving him the power of more quirks fucking sucks. having such a ridiculous power and such a devastating payoff kept his fights interesting and i think the fight where eri allowed him to use it at full power with no drawbacks was such a fucking let down. there were better ways for him to grow other than idk more quirks cause hes special. and truly outside of attaining more power to become no.1 he has very little conflict in his character after someone else goes out of the way to instill confidence in him its also very annoying that repeatedly were shown how hard everyone works to get into ua, to become the heroes they want to be but its always dwarfed in comparison to izuku and the whole fucking scene with allmight at the end of the kamino incident being specifically for izuku, instead of a rallying cry that you are next, every one of you must struggle to become the hero that you want to be - to bear the weight of the symbol of peace is not for one persons shoulders alone like its a shame cause the series spends so much time hammering home how these kids are the best of the best, the ones who really truly want it but theyre not really treated with the same regard at all and their struggles and improvement are nowhere near on the monumental level of midoriya.

i feel like the narrative has all the makings of something interesting, but somehow fucking hilariously misses its own point. truly ripping apart the idea of becoming the greatest hero, the ‘symbol of peace’, that becoming a pillar isnt any way for a human to live and glorifying one persons sacrifice for all our sakes isnt right and that the true insiduous evil of hero society is that it makes us truly believe that people are painted in black and white rather than many shades of grey and forces people to take on things they shouldnt, allows certain powerful individuals to enforce their own wills on the world and robs everyday people, the powerless and weak of any agency of how their society works. it acts like heroism is an inherent trait only afforded by the strong and that being anything less than the ultimate hero is a failure even if it means doing awful tings, like throwing away your children giving them mental scars, leaving behind whole families in the name of heroism falling in the line of duty being seen as some great honour, leaving kids to wander the streets since doing necessary but painful things are for better equipped people, right? wash your hands of it and let a hero deal with it. honestly i just want to see a weak supporting characters heroism. that was the charm of early bnha. ive had enough of this blind thoughtless heroism thats presented as the correct one, for the chosen few. i want to see the struggle for it, insatiable longing that you cant help pushing you on, but most of all i want to see the hero you can be in ways that are meaningful but yours alone and taking back the world inch by inch from the common villainy of our society with one person at a time, reaching out to your hand no matter how scarred. to look your dreams in the face and turn your back on them. tearing down the sun, shattering it into a million pieces, but the small shards shine brighter and can be held in mortal hands. but nah izuku is going to be all might super cop 2 dont worry bout it guys. dw he’ll also choose some poor fucking kid to bear this burden after he becomes useless in battle and we can discard him as a person and simply keep him as an icon since the narrative keeps allowing the villains to have valid criticisms against society but always dismiss them since theyre villains you know and youre not meant to actually think about changing society despite your position of power, just enjoy being no.1 whilst your alive and rinse and repeat pog.

i think thats why i can easily see why bakugo and todoroki are so popular through the series as they do take a long time to get through their extremely shitty issues and they are genuinely shitty little teen psychopaths who are horrible fucking bastards. but they grow up and in really tangible gratifying ways. they seem to have as many setbacks as they do wins, constantly fucked over by their own hubris but still finding a way to power through despite it all trying to awkwardly form connections and become better people as well as better heroes and they can not do so on their own. their struggles are treated with gravity and they always acquire some kind of new strength in return but at a pace that doesnt put them miles ahead of their other classmates but definitely feels weighted and substantial to their development. todoroki gritting his teeth but slowly realising that he has a fucking ridiculous opportunity in his hands with endeavours agency and even inviting his friends is monumental in its own way, endeavour texting his son and his son texting back is like. it really does feel like something. its also interesting that as broccoli boy gets stronger he gets subsequently less and less likeable imo like ... sir you are NO shirou emiya. you do not have the range or the sheer trauma to be so dogged and blind in your ideals despite the world you occupy and everyone else around you. i was sold shirou emiya superhero manga with sexy juwabe sunichi teacher and only one of those thigns is true!!!

[choiwrites]

kth | the day after valentine’s (m.)

Words: 4.5k Synopsis: Taehyung, your best friend, had asked you to come over to help him arrange his furniture after moving for the hundredth time. It’s the day after Valentine’s and all the getting laid stuff is over, right? Not for Taehyung. Also, who the hell buys condoms after Valentine’s day? Rating: 18+ Author’s Note: This is a messy drabble that I have no intention cleaning or editing. I wrote this at liek 2am so a lot of typo’s ahead y’all.

When you agreed to come over Taehyung's apartment, you thought he needed help with arranging the stuff that came from his moving van today. But no, your best friend's not the most truthful person you know.

He spreads across his dirty old couch, one he'd kept from his college dorm, wearing nothing but his basketball shorts that holds tight against his waist. Seven years since meeting him, he's done nothing to change his lifestyle. Every month, it's the same old scenario of him moving to another place after getting evicted for God knows how many times, and you watching him play a mobile game while you beg him to please start unpacking before a landlord sends him on his ass again.

"Let me finish this level, I'm so close." He looks for a second to study your reaction, annoyance painted clearly on your face.

You shrug, and your eyes dart over the cigarette pack that almost hides in one of his Goodwill boxes.

"I though you quit?"

Confused, Taehyung follows your eyes and he regrets in an instant bringing you here.

"I haven't had one in two months. I'm stressed lately."

Sighing, you try to understand. Taehyung's been on and off with cigars, he'd buy one in secret but sooner or later, you'd always find a lighter in his laundry when coming over. You advice him to keep his hand busy, and you'd even given him a bracelet that chimes. He removed it three months later and you never asked where he threw it away.

"Fuck," his finger swipes his screen as if he wanted to break it, "I almost got it!" he yelled.

He switches off his phone, now staring back at you. Your eyes fall, he's always intimidating. You couldn't blame him, you were always intimidated.

"What?" you croaked.

"What do you mean what? What's your plan?"

"My plan? Why do I have to make the plans?" Your fingers find the hem of your thin baby blue shirt.

"Because you're the smarter one. How do I arrange all my shit? You got any idea?"

"Taehyung, we've been doing this for ages. How come you still depend on me? There will come a day that I won't be here anymore and the only person you could depend on is yourself." Was it seeing the cigarettes that raised your voice, or remembering that he threw your handmade bracelet? You couldn't care less.

He was quiet. Then he opens his mouth, and he's quiet again.

"You sound like my mom," he says, meaning to tease you as if he hadn't used that for the hundredth time. "Was your date last night that bad? I told you you should come with Hoseok and I on Valentine's, we had an amazing night at Jungkook's crib."

There he goes again, ignorant of your troubles. Classic selfish Tae, the exact same one who stood you up on homecoming because he spent it having sex with Tilly Janes in his car. You're still upset about it, he didn't even think of going inside to give you at least a minute to dance with somebody on the dance floor.

"Mind telling me what happened? Did you get laid?"

"Do you ever think of maybe you shouldn't ask such inappropriate questions to someone?"

"Fine," almost tired in his tone.

And you spend a few more minutes in silence, guessing each other's thoughts with the way both your gaze lands on the floor. He clears his throat and forgets what he's about to say. You wish you didn't cancel your nail appointment today just to be with your best friend who still, in no surprise, doesn't have a single plan in his life.

Taehyung suggests he buys a stock from the grocery first, and when he says stock he means an awful lot of Oreo cookies and Lays. You agreed with him and he gets dressed, though the soles of your feet still hurt from walking in heels for three hours straight last night. If only you knew that Hyungwon would be bringing you to a walking spree, you wouldn't have worn a formal attire.

Taehyung spends his time choosing between peanut butter and double stuff. You tell him to pick the peanut butter one because you've never seen him finish the double stuff, he always throws the leftovers saying it was too sweet. He ignores your opinion and chooses the double stuff over the peanut butter.

He asks you again whether he should buy milk or pineapple juice instead, and you tell him to pick milk because whoever drinks pineapple is a monster. He nods in affirmation, commenting about how pineapple has a really weird aftertaste. And he brings the milk back to the shelf, putting the pineapple juice in the cart.

"You should dress like that." He points at a mannequin dressed in sportswear.

"You don't tell me what to wear, young man. I don't even jog."

"I'm just saying you'd look hotter." He scans you head to toe and your knees weaken a little.

He takes a route to the meat section, you already know why. He just wants to brag about being a vegan. Jungkook had convinced him last month to finally turn vegan, and he's been talking about it non-stop.

"I can't stand the smell of meat anymore, it's disgusting." He pinches his nose, wrinkles forming on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Vegan. We get it." You rolled your eyes.

"No, really. It's making me vomit," he says, nasally.

"Just make sure that once I cook chicken alfredo, your mouth wouldn't water."

Upon reaching the counter, Taehyung approaches the magazines and candy bars, leaving you in line.

What does he need this time?

And when you're up next in line, he comes back with a tight fist, hiding an item as he crosses his arms.

He thought he was sleek, but when he throws the condoms next to the Oreos, you couldn't help but laugh.

"You're buying condoms after Valentine's Day?" You throw your hand to your mouth, suppressing an uncontrollable laughter. "Did you run out last night or you're only getting laid today?" you added.

"Do you ever think of maybe you shouldn't ask such inappropriate questions to someone?"

You sighed. "But seriously, I know you wanna answer that question."

In the mood, you poke at his waist and he flinches like a worm. Taehyung was cocky, but he can be cute sometimes in ways he doesn't intend to.

"I ran out last night. Lucky you who don't need to buy another one since none of your dates ever pass your standards."

You couldn't point it out in what he said that made your heart throb, it felt a little offensive. Taehyung knows so much about you, it can get scary when he opens his mouth. What's he thinking right now? Cute little y/n, no one's ever good enough for her fragile heart. Cute little y/n, always finds a mistake in every part.

"That's not true, you know? I just don't settle that easily."

The corners of his lips lift, eyes rolling in disbelief. He was skinning you alive with that gaze, annoyed. He has a sarcastic smile sprawled all over his face, you just wanna punch it away.

On the way home, you thought about what he said for a second... For a while. You thought about it for a while. Was Taehyung right? Was his perception of you correct? Whatever it was, it did hurt. All you ever did for Taehyung was to be a good friend, and he gave nothing in return. You weren't expecting anything, but deep inside you knew Taehyung loves you just as much as you love him. But like every other person, insecurity gets in the way in relationships.

Maybe Taehyung doesn't even treat you as a friend.

No, you argued inside your head.

Sure, you've seen him in his most vulnerable moments. You've seen him break and you've seen him fall, you've seen him lose the inner parts of his soul. You've seen Taehyung happy, and you will always remember that specific laugh he lets out whenever he pretends something is funny. You know that he blinks when he curses because his body rejects it. He told you about his broken dream of becoming an astrologist, and you daydreamed together about the stars and the way they collide like magical dusts.

Maybe Taehyung doesn't know you like you know him.

Before the thought gets answered, Taehyung was already groaning as he puts the bags down to his counter. You had forgotten you arrived.

"We should start with your room. I'll place your clothes in your closet and you go arrange your miscellaneous."

He doesn't nod. Why won't he nod?  God, please, Taehyung, just agree with me once.

He remains standing with both his hands on either sides of his waist and he does nothing else. Still standing feet away from you, just knitted brows and a stern expression that you couldn't read. What is it this time?

"How was it?" His arms cross on the buff his chest, waiting for a response as he tries to read your reaction the same way you're reading where he's coming from.

"How was what?"

"The sex, y/n. Was it so bad you're in a bad mood today?" A laugh pauses in his throat, replaced by a rise of the corner of his lips.

It was a tug, or maybe a push, in your stomach that made your minds do wonders of spins. Such an unpredictable person Taehyung is.

There was nothing to deliberate inside your mind, nothing happened last night. Hyungwon went home without a kiss on his lips, and you're limbs gave out due to the amount of walking.

"There's no sex. We didn't have sex."

"Let me guess, he insulted your outfit? If not, he probably split the check." His index finger extends, eyes wrinkling to get out any more ideas from his dirty little head.

"Can you just- Ugh! What's with you and your insults?"

"How was that an insult? I was guessing which of what he did didn't pass your golden standard."

"If I had a better standard, maybe you wouldn't be my friend." Ouch. It wasn't directed to you but sometimes you just want to dissolve after saying something.

"I'm your friend because you have a high standard." He wasn't offended, not a single bit from what you have said. Was Taehyung that oblivious of how miserable he is? "If we weren't friends, I'm pretty sure I could get inside your pants."

You hoped he regret what he said, just as much as you wanted to dissipate earlier.

"I'm sorry, Taehyung. But my 'golden standard' would never, and I can't stress this enough, let you get in my pants, in an alternate universe where we aren't friends."

"Lies. Lies. Lies. I could easily get you swooning for me in just a matter of seconds, y/n. Stop, and I can't stress this enough, lying."

"Sure, Taehyung. Whatever you want me to fucking say." You turned your back on him to get a grip of yourself. You grunt, you shudder, and you sighed.

Cocky. Bastard. You could join those words together and it would still perfectly describe Taehyung. Perhaps you have a list of two words that could go either independently or together they'd still describe Taehyung well.

Arrogant. Pervert. Overconfident. Asshole. Striking. Idiot. Son. Of. A. Bitch. I. Just. Want. To. Punch. Him.

He places a grip on your arm to spin you to him. "I want you to say it," with a guttural voice coming from the pits of somewhere within his diaphragm, it's crazy how smooth it escaped from his lips.

"Saywhat?" as opposed to yours that escaped with so much tremble and crisp, thinner than air.

"Consent," he began. "I'm pretty sure I can reach your standard."

It was probably a bad idea. And a bad idea is followed by a spontaneous drive to try it, that's how it's done in movies. You'd probably regret it, right? But you'd regret it more if you don't get a chance to prove Taehyung wrong.

Fine. He needs a wake up call. He needs to wake up from that delusion he'd built inside his towering cocky arrogant head, no pun intended, that he's not every girl's cup of tea.

"You know what? Sure. What do you want me to do? Ride you? Then give you a blowjob after not finding the clit-"

He pulls you, hand reaching your lower back to push his groin toward your front. You were far behind than he was, Taehyung was already hard and eager. His lips were hot, warm around the tip of your tongue that vividly tastes the mint and smoke he had had earlier this morning. It was evident in the sloppiness of his kiss, swiftness of his wandering hands, and blazing fire underneath the lust of his eyes, Taehyung isn't exactly as what you have thought him to be.

The men you've slept with before, they were a floating fish in the sea. But Taehyung brings you sea deep into the weakness of your knees, the floor may have shaken 'cause you find yourself falling on his body and he catches you just perfectly, bodies molding with each other on the floor. Taehyung grips your thigh, to the north his hand traveled, his thumb harshly caressing your slit.

The position made it hard for him to move, he was struggling to reach every part of your body as he would have wanted so he pushed your body, and you look him in the eyes with question, both hands resting on his chest as he continues to play with your clit. He earns a sly grunt from you and he'd do anything to hear it again.

Then he was standing, carrying your body to the nearest stool he could find, desperate and quick. With one sharp thrust to lock you in position, he inhales the moan that went from your lips to his throat. Then he stops. He stopped.

"Moaning already, are we?" He lifts his brow, a crease forming on his forehead.

"Can you just get to it?"

He laughs. "That's not exactly how I always do it. I like to take my time."

You punch his shoulder, a questioning look taking over his features. Embarrassment flows through you. "This was a mistake."

He kisses you again, eating whatever insult was about to come out of your mouth. He wants to whisper it, that thing he have always wanted to tell you, in between kisses. Because now that he's got you under his touch, his tongue is burning just to say it. To distract himself, he digs into your waist deeper, sinking those three little words under your skin hoping you'd realize it.

You pull away, pushing him away from you. "Something wrong?" His nails have left their mark before you could figure out.

"No, no. Nothing's wrong."

There is though. You're not a stranger to not know the look on Taehyung's face. You recognize this one, it happened before. The trembling lips and crimson cheeks. They bring you back the day after prom, the day after Tilly Janes took his innocence.

"What happened last night?" you asked him, arms crossed against your chest.

"I'm so sorry I didn't come-"

"You came Tae. You came hard, didn't you? I can't believe you convinced me to go to prom just so you can leave me in there alone."

"I didn't want to. Listen, okay, I realized something last night."

"I don't need your apology, Taehyung. I don't need it. Jimin took me home last night."

"What? Why?"

"Why? Because some asshole left me without a ride. That's why!"

"I was looking for you last-"

"Shut it. He asked me on a date. So thank God, I'm at least in a good mood today to not flame on you."

"He asked you on a date? Are you going?"

Trembling lips and crimson cheeks. He gulped so hard you heard it.

"I am. Hey, are you okay?"

"I just can't believe someone would even ask you out. I'll be going, forget I came."

It's the same face, the same gulp. You put your hand on his cheek, like what a mom would do to an injured child, and he holds it so you won't ever let go of his face.

"We can stop. I know. This was a bad idea. We shouldn't have done it."

He shakes his head, his other hand creeping behind you. He latches his lips onto yours again, pulling your shirt up to reveal your stomach. The kiss was different, a touch of hunger for affection. A slow open one, mostly the breaths clashing in a soft whisper.

"I want you, y/n. I want you," he whispered to your mouth. You push him to the couch, straddling him and he groans in satisfaction. He pulls you closer, enough for his chin to land on your chest and he looks up in pure admiration of you.

There was more behind the words he said, but with the heat pooling in between your thighs, you couldn't care less as of now. It's something you'll resolve after. He tucks a strand of your hair as he makes thrusts underneath you, the thick cotton of his sweats didn't do anything to conceal his cock aching for you.

You remove his shirt, not being able to take your eyes away from his body. Sweet and honey under your gaze, he tenses them and you couldn't help but laugh at this. Kissing every inch of his exposed skin, you kneel as your knees approach the floor, not breaking eye contact with Taehyung while untying his sweats. His hand fails to fall steady on your arm and his Adam's apple bob in anticipation.

There's warmth that spreads across your stomach, different from the one in between you thighs. It's like electricity that continuously ignites a fire inside you when you notice his excitement, eager to have your mouth around him. A sign of reciprocation that he wants this just as much as you do no matter how hard you try to deny it, a catching fire of the thought that maybe he looks at you the way you look at him throughout all these years. Even now that you're not looking in his eyes, the continuous ignition of sparks inside you still teases.

You reach for his length, softly wrapping it in your hand and his breath quickens along with your heartbeat. Studying every detail, even the cold tones of the veins that spreads like tree roots. In usual occasions, giving head never takes your time. You suck it and finish it, no more and no less, nothing special really. But it's Taehyung, and his difference from others makes you uncomfortable in a way it shouldn't be possible. Trying to forget these unnecessary emotions, your thumb circles the head of his cock and he couldn't help but make his lip bleed, the agony of it keeping him awake to not fall into your dreamy touch.

His shorts reaches the floor and you made it quick to to kiss the base of his glistening length. Your index finger making lines on his thigh while the other keeps his cock steady as your lips move upward. You've never imagined how he would taste, but you were always sure he tastes exactly like he tastes now. Bittersweet. He throbs at the heat of your breath, thighs almost jumping when your fingers find his balls. He emits a groan that strengthens the force you're putting in your thighs to keep your core intact.

Down you go, the head of his cock deepening in your throat just like his grunts, getting lower and lower until he thrusts upwards making you gag and he releases a high-pitched whimper of your name. Tears blur your vision and a moan sends minimal vibration to his cock.

"I don't think... y/n, fuck, I'm not gonna last long," he confessed, and you finally look up to see him without removing him from your mouth.

You tongue swirling still and he has gone rabid trying to control himself, clenching your hair as he lets himself go maniac against your throat. He stares at you with mad eyes, his mouth failing in keeping him quiet. Only his groans, his throat-fucking, and your whimpers that you can no longer suppress. You're a little scared maybe he'll get too confident and tease you on your gagging, calling himself so big he made you cry.

He pulls your hair and he tries to get a hold of himself, catching his breath to gain stability. Before you can wipe the corners of your lips, he was standing up and taking your shirt off. He frames his chin with his index finger and his thumb, making you grow conscious of your own body. He had no reason to be looking so long, he'd seen you in a two piece more than one occasion. And he's going behind you, putting a finger at the waist of your shorts, bringing it down slowly until it lands by itself. He wraps your hair in a pony as the other grips your ass, a throaty growl escaping from his body.

He rotates you to the other side, an empty blank wall where you can see the fool you made of yourself. The argument ends here. The argument has ended since he had kissed you like no one had kissed you. You shouldn't have underestimated Taehyung, because he's now biting your shoulder as he slowly descends you to the wall. He hums, this close he can hear the tiny whimpers you try to keep to yourself, your fragile voice that can break once you open your mouth to say something. He can hear them all and he's aware of the power he has over you.

A hand holds both of yours behind your back, and once he has successfully taken your white underwear off, he's positioning the fat head of his cock right in your entrance.

"Make it easier for the both of us and just say it, y/n," he commands, his breath echoing in your ear sending voltage in your spine. He bites your ear and he whispers again, "Baby, please."

"What?"

Taehyung laughs at your adorable cluelessness. He doesn't answer. The next thing you hear was the expansion of his breaths, getting heavier and heavier it's almost a hum as he slides himself inside you.

"Taehyung," you say in a falsetto, "god, Tae, fuck!"

"Hmm, fucking tight. You're so fucking tight, y/n. Your pussy's taking my cock so fucking well," his knees bend to enter you deeply, this sharp thrust hitting a spot in you you never knew you'd feel, "maybe now you'd let me fuck you often, huh? You're gonna take my cock anytime you want, I'll fuck your brains out, ruin you and your cunt."

You respond with a soft murmur of you're not entirely sure what, because Taehyung was already fucking your brains out and you had no other thoughts but the feeling of his cock that slips in out of you so easily. He'd hit that one spot and you're going to release yet another cry and he'd enjoy every note of it. You're a mess with strands of your hair sticking to your face as the sweat trickle down your temples.

"Tell me what you want, y/n. Want it fast, baby?" He speeds up his thrusts, your ah's getting louder as he almost sends you to your high. "Or you want to cherish every inch of my cock?" He slows down which brings you wailing, whimpering his name over and over until you're no longer sure if it's even coming out right. His free hand lands on your ass and you gasp as if inhaling after suffocation. "Answer me," he speeds up his pace again, "answer me, y/n."

But you couldn't, there's nothing in your body that you trust right now especially your voice. He growls, unsatisfied with your silence which leads him to pulling your hair and pushing your back to the wall. You're almost embarrassed to see his eyes once more in the state you're in, overpowered by the despair of wanting nothing but to have Taehyung take you to your climax. Your eyes are begging for him, hell there were tears coming from them as he enters you again.

He cries out, "I want to fuck you all day long, would you let me do that?" He continues to carry you upward the wall and your weight would go down whenever he pulls himself from you. You nod and as he sees this, his head moves back to watch your body crumble before him, giving him no more than satisfaction. "Look at you desperate for my cock, such a fucking whore for me, aren't ya?"

In every "hm" he makes, he enters you harder and rougher, makes you want to stay silent. You bite your lip, feeling yourself come to a close. Your thighs pulling together like magnets, wrapping his waist while it shakes and he doesn't take one second to land your body on the couch, watching your orgasm hit you with spasms traveling your whole body. Taehyung wraps his cock in his hand, moving toward your mouth as he jerks himself off to his own orgasm. You take the spurts of his fluid landing on your tongue, his waist twitching while he groans for each drop of cum.

He sighs, falling onto the couch where your legs are still apart. He smiles at your nakedness, not giving a second thought as his middle finger enters you once more. Your body  sits straight, only to land on the sofa's arm. "You're so fucking pretty," he commented, his body hovering over yours again. He kisses you.

"I can't handle," you say before Taehyung cuts you off with another kiss, and another, and another, his finger in and out of you which as the minute grows only turns from pain into pleasure again.

"You're going to," he whispers and he kisses you again, until you're crying his name and he just studies the way you react to his slender finger. "So pretty, so, so," he curves his finger resulting to your second orgasm, "pretty." He makes sure you see his savoring your juices in his mouth, and once he was done lapping up his finger he puts them inside your lips, tasting nothing but his saliva.

"Do you get it now, y/n?" He unclasps your bra, and from then on he ignores your eyes. "This is why I run out of condoms."

[believe-that-you-can-my-friend]

Elisabeth & Noah in the origin world (2/?)

First date

He is not sure if he should text her or not.

On Monday, upon waking up with every ounce of alcohol finally off his bloodstream and after he has spent the entire Sunday recovering from the worst hangover he’s experienced since his college years, Noah is back on his reserved nature, the timid one, the one lacking the amount of whiskey-infused courage it takes for him to deal with matters revolving around human interaction, especially with women. He’s not a social outcast per se, but his confidence mostly accompanies him in the career-oriented side of his life.

It’s not like he’s not interested. He crossed the line of “interested” when he stooped to the lowest level possible, looking her up on Instagram, of all things, via Agnes’ account.

(His little sister has a long list of questions and he has a long list of brotherly favors that he promised to fulfill in exchange for her seven-digit password.)

She doesn’t have a vast presence on social media, a quality they apparently share. He keeps a long forgotten Facebook account and a professional LinkedIn one and acts blissfully ignorant towards any other platform that isn’t YouTube. Her Facebook account - oh yeah, he checked that one too - is a mix between personal and business, opinion posts about socio-politcal matters on the grounds of their country to the entirety of Europe to the endlessness of the globe and take-action events in regard to the causes she supports, occasionally interrupted by a reunion selfie with an old friend or a brunch date with her mom and her sister. That particular post redirected to some Instagram link, so, unwittingly, his curiosity was peaked.

Her Instagram account is colourful, vivid, filled with adventures and laughter. Just from an idle scroll, Elisabeth Doppler - Winden born, age twenty-four, Energy Engineer, Berlin based - can easily be perceived as someone that quite enjoys life. Her group of associates and friends seems endless and her gallery consists of photos of dinners with young professionals, pub-crawling with girlfriends, road tripping across Europe, Erasmus Programme memories, tree-planting projects, women’s rights marches, snorkelling, paragliding. Noah spends the whole Sunday afternoon feeling overwhelmed and in awe, tapping picture after picture, mesmerized by her lovely smile that adds a softer undertone to her busy bee of a life.

He finds it fascinating, her mindset and her lifestyle, but, at the same time, he fears that their personalities may clash, his more keeping-to-himself attitude the polar opposite to her seemingly outgoing one. Then, it’s also the age barrier. He thinks that thirty-two might be a little off-putting for someone in their early twenties, a decade that comes with a whole other set of expectations and milestones than the one he is currently in. The major problem, though - a chronic problem of his - is that he’s thinking too much.

Fortunately, that’s not a thing they have in common.

Elisabeth texts him on Monday morning, at 9.54 to be exact. He’s in the middle of a lecture, teaching History of Religion 101 to an auditorium filled with sleepy freshmen, when his phone screen lights up, its glow illuminating in the dimly lit room. It’s a simple “good morning” paired up with a smiling face emoji but it’s enough to cause his heart to race and his mind to short-circuit, leaving him reciting things off the projection screen without really registering what comes out of his mouth until the lesson is over. With sweaty hands and in the mist of internal panic laced with excitement, he texts her back at 10.38 an equally casual “hey, hope you’re having a good morning, too”. He beats himself up for not asking her anything the minute he presses send, like, how she’s doing, if she’s at work - literally anything, Noah, Jesus Christ, now she’ll think that you don’t care, nice work, you idiot - especially as the hours pass and there’s silence from her end. He spends the rest of the day drowning in miserable self-pity, checking his dead phone literally every minute, until there’s a new message from her, telling him that she had a very busy day at work and asking him how his day was.

(Thank God, because he was about to send her an embarrassing word vomit apologizing for having zero social skills whatsoever.)

They continue their back and forth texting for the rest of the week, casual conversations about their everyday lives turning into debates about the best places to eat and the best movies of all time to metaphysics and social justice that keep them up till the small hours of morning, Elisabeth sending him blowing-a-kiss face emoji’s for goodnight and Noah smiling like a silly teenager at his phone screen. Right in the middle of one of their more “serious” conversations, Elisabeth venting about income-based discrimination, Noah asks her out. It’s abrupt and totally irrelevant to the context of the rest of the bubbles that litter their personal chat at that moment but he can’t really help himself. She is a woman he wants - needs - to know more about, not through a screen, but in person, sit there and watch her express all the things she has in her brilliant mind.

They arrange to meet on Friday night, after she finishes work, since Noah has to attend a seminar in Dresden on the weekend and since both of them are too impatient to wait any longer. Noah arrives first at the bar she gave him directions to and decides on waiting for her outside but decides against smoking a cigarette, even though he’s itching to, out of habit and nerves. She rounds the corner barely five minutes later, strutting towards him in an electric blue pantsuit and a plaid maxi grey coat, her whole face brightening with a stunning smile when she notices him, and, just like that, everything else fades, his anxiety about their first official date, his mental fatigue after holding office hours, his insecurities, his worries and she is the only thing that exists, the only thing that matters.

A wave of panic washes over him momentarily, his inner perfectionist making a huge deal out of not having a clear plan of how to greet her. A handshake is too impersonal, a kiss too presumptuous. Ultimately, he attempts an awkward, one-arm kinda hug - which is ridiculous because a) he’s a freaking grown-up and b) her tongue has already been inside his mouth and he doesn’t recall his hands being particularly respectful the night of Jonas’ wedding, when she pushed him against a wall and stole his breath with a glorious kiss - an action she probably misconstrues as a leaning in and this results in them doing a clumsy dance right there on the pavement, but she giggles and her eyes shine with amusement, so his self-deprecating frown gives its place to a handsome smirk, when she moves closer to him and leaves a soft peck on his cheek, as a belated greeting. She smells of sensuous jasmine and intoxicating amber, her perfume aery but with a spicy twist that succeeds in stimulating all of his senses. He holds the door for her to enter and his hand lingers lightly on the small of her waist, as they make their way through the tables to the bar.

They settle on two empty barstools and order their signature drinks, Gin and Tonic and Whiskey on the Rocks. Elisabeth takes her phone out of her tote bag but before she gets to type anything, Noah holds her attention. He thinks for a moment and then makes his hands move, forming tentative gestures that lack any grace or flow but succeed in signing “It’s nice to see you. How have you been?”.

Elisabeth beams, impressed, her lips mouthing an excited “how?”. He just shrugs and shyly pulls out of his messenger bag a thick sign language book, a recent purchase of his which he’s been studying with every chance he got. Her whole face softens, touched by his sweet gesture, before she types on her phone.

That’s very thoughtful of you, thank you. Even though you shouldn’t have; apart from technology’s assistance, I’m pretty good at reading lips.

He uses his phone to reply. Yeah, I gathered that much. I just want to talk to you in your language.

The look that she gives him under her fluttering eyelashes is so tender and lovely that he can’t help but stare, a foolish grin plastered on his lips and a hot blush painted on his neck, creeping from the collar of his grey shirt.

They talk - type, to be exact, with the occasional mimic of a word or two - about everything and nothing, fast thumbs trying to keep up with their effortless conversation on the notifications’ section of their phones. He learns about her childhood in Winden, her hellish pranks to her older sister Franziska, her loving parents that separated when she was a preteen but never stopped caring about each other or being there for their daughters. She talks about her hometown friends and her honor roll high school experience, moving to Berlin to attend university and falling in love with the lively vibe of the city, getting her Master’s in Energy Engineering and recently landing her first job on the field at the Tiedemann Enterprises, a very prestige corporation in the industry of renewable energy. She’s still particularly excited about this, being part of a team of researchers thriving to improve energy efficiency based on an environmental friendly strategy.

Noah tells her about his memories as a young boy in Vechta, how he lost his mother when he was only six, due to complications while giving birth to his sister, how his father was never really in the picture after that tragic incident. How the local church and especially Sic Mundus, a church based organization for neglected children and troubled teens, contributed to his and Agnes’ well-being and education, helping him land a university scholarship and get a job, so he could afford moving his sister to Berlin, too, after he got his bachelor degree, and offering her a more stable living situation and a normal life. How, apparently, his aptitude for the humanities and his upbringing in a religious environment drove him to follow an academic career in religious studies, a field that he finds beyond interesting, especially its anthropology aspect.

Somewhere along the conversation, too absorbed into their own little world to register the fewer people in the bar and the clock ticking towards closing time, his hand, as if it has a mind of its own, slides slowly over the wooden top of the bar, her slender fingers meeting his hesitant approach halfway. They’re barely touching but it’s electrifying, the feeling of even an inch of his skin against her skin so exhilarating and powerful, like the impact of meteors colliding or the universe exploding into pieces. It feels like a Déjà vu, like a glitch in the Matrix, like they know each other from the past or recognize each other from their future. It’s a feeling both of them kept seeking, a feeling that they silently vow never to lose.

Noah pays for the drinks, despite her objections, and Elisabeth insists that, next time, the bill is on her. He smirks, a tad tipsy on the whiskey, a lot tipsy on her, and teases her that he must have done something right, because this is the first time a girl agrees on a second date with him this fast. She just shrugs, a cheeky smirk playing on her lip-glossed lips, as she types, if I left it up to you, we’d still be on the PG-13 “good morning” texts. He laughs, an effortless, loud laugh and he catches her staring - no, not staring, checking him out - the corner of her longing smile trapped between her teeth. He fights the insane urge to kiss her senseless right here in this empty bar with the bartender mentally plotting their death for keeping him past his shift.

He accompanies her to the U-Bahn station and his heart skips a heartbeat at the prospect of sharing ten more minutes with her, according to the information display over their heads. She wishes him to have fun in Dresden and he confesses that he wishes he could stay here, to spend the weekend with you, he wants to add but refrains, in fear of confessing too much too fast. Instead, he tells her that he had an amazing night and he’s so relieved and purely happy when she nods vigorously in agreement, her low ponytail bobbing lightly and her beautiful face radiating even under the harsh fluorescent light of the station. The atmosphere around them is suddenly very charged, their bodies gravitating towards each other, and their eyes engage in a stare off that speaks volumes and holds so much unresolved tension. He can hear the bright yellow train approaching and his breath quickens as he takes a brave step forward, invades her personal space, and his eyes declare defeat, falling to her lips. He’s the one to kiss her this time, a soft peck that turns into a needy battle of dominance when she melts into his arms and angles her face to kiss him more, deeper, hungry mouths dancing together in passion, his shoulders hunching over her smaller figure, his hands cradling her cheeks. Her own hands sneak under his coat and suit jacket, delivering a heavy caress over the material of his shirt before she closes her arms around his waist, Noah letting a trembling exhale into the kiss and his lips forming a lazy smirk against her giggling ones. Smugly, Elisabeth tugs lightly at his lower lip with her teeth, a naughty essence to the playful action, and this fuels another round of heated kissing, their bodies pushing and pulling, their heavy PDA a thing they’ll be embarrassed for in the morning. For tonight, though, they’re just two people getting drunk on each other in the middle of a train station, as if tomorrow will be the end of world and they’ll cease to exist.

When they pull back for air her lips are lipgloss-free and her eyelids, still closed, are fluttering over scarlet cheekbones. Noah has never witnessed a most beautiful sight in his life.

Elisabeth gets on the train with a dazed and dazzling smile, promising to text him when she arrives at her apartment. They refuse to let go of each other’s eyes until the train vanishes into the dark tunnel and Noah is left there, on the empty station, a finger reaching to his lips, not quite believing that the fruity taste of lipgloss that still lingers in his mouth or the woman whose lips left their trace behind are real and not a product of his wildest fantasies. There’s an extra hop in his steps as he walks up the stairs to catch the train to the opposite direction, boarding the vehicle at the last minute and sliding quickly on a seat, lovesick smile intact and a newfound feeling of contentment and thrill nested in his chest.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and types, unable to wait any longer.

I get back early on Sunday. Would you like to have dinner with me?

[emmelineparker308]

Father Dearest Part 4

Fandom: Harry Potter: Golden Trio Era Pairing: Harry Potter x reader Summary: Your third year at Hogwarts is about to start and with it come a lot of new changes. Harry, your best friend and crush, is in trouble from some man named Sirius Black. You try desperately to keep Harry safe but what happens when you find out some heartbreaking, mind shattering information about your father? Warnings: angst, long writing lol! A/N: Enjoy! Please like and reblog if you like it!!

“Did you hear about what happened to (Y/L/N) during DADA?”

“Oh my god, do you think that she is being abused at home?”

“I knew it, I knew that there was something off about her.”

 These were the whispers that followed you around for the rest of the week. Harry, Ron and Hermione would throw a dirty look at anyone that even dared to look at you wrong and maybe due to that, and the fact that other more threatening news was flooding Hogwarts, the incident that occurred in the DADA class was forgotten from almost everyone’s mind.

 The only thing you had been looking forward to after Moony’s class was Hagrid’s first lesson. Looking forward to it seems to be too happy a phrase to use. You had heard from Fred and George who already had their Care for Magical Creatures class that Hagrid had them caring for some crazy dangerous creatures. In fact, most of the castle was muttering about Hagrid’s lessons and you were apprehensive of what monstrous creature Hagrid would introduce to your lot. To make matters worse the Gryffindors were paired with the Slytherins for Magical Creatures. After the encounter in Lupin’s class Malfoy had been a bit more reserved in talking back in class but you were sure his tongue was going to wag in Hagrid’s class. As you made your way down to Hagrid’s hut you found that the Slytherin Prince was already there, barking all sorts of rubbish that is puny crew was lapping up. Pansy Parkinson, a toad of a girl, was hanging on every word that drew from his lips.

 “Wait till my father hears about this, that Dumbledore’s got this oaf teaching class. Honestly this whole school is going to hell,” he stated disgustingly as Hagrid was fixing something up in his garden. Harry who heard the remark turned around fuming, you had to grip his arm and hold him back before he launched himself a Malfoy.

 “What is it Potter? Got something to say?” he taunted Harry.

 “Last I checked your father was sacked from being a governor of Hogwarts after threatening the other governors. So, having your now unemployed father hear about the news of Hagrid’s post doesn’t really carry that much weight,” you recounted as the gryffindors sniggered and Malfoy turned red. You knew that the Malfoy’s were rich beyond measure and that his father technically didn’t need a  job to survive, however it still managed to bruise Malfoy’s ego.

 “At least I have a father, what was it that the boggart said? Right, ‘You’re scum, and I never wanted you’,” Malfoy stated smirking at the effect those words had on you. You froze up beside Harry, and Harry seizing the chance of you letting go of his arm grabbed his wand and threw a spell at Malfoy.

 Malfoy was about to retaliate when Hagrid came walking towards you booming, “What’s goin on ‘ere? You lot be’er not be causin’ ‘rouble ‘his early in.” Hagrid lead you into a clearing at the edge of the forest and went on to explain what the lesson was for today.

 You who had been beaming at him to show your support felt a pricking sensation in the back of your head. It was a sensation you had grown accustomed to over the past summer, a feeling of being watched. You didn’t know what it was but the past summer when you were taking your nighttime walks or when you were running errands for Remus on the weeks of the full moon you would feel this weird sensation. Nothing ever came of it, you would turn around constantly, checking your surroundings yet you would find nothing, no one was watching you. You didn’t want to alarm Remus, who (you were sure) would lock you up in the house all summer had you disclosed this information to him.

 The feeling stopped the last few weeks of summer vacation, you were sure that due to all the excitement and busyness of packing up for Hogwarts you mind simply didn’t have time to make you feel uneasy. However, the feeling was back, you instinctively turned around, you were met with nothing but trees and shrubs. There was a slight rustling of a shrub but just then a sudden breeze had started from nowhere and you heard Harry scream. When you turned your attention back to the class you saw Harry riding on a Hippogriff. Had Harry not looked like he was going to vomit, the site would have been majestic. You knew all about the hippogriffs having stumbled across an old Care for Magical Creatures textbook of Moony’s. You were slightly jealous that Harry got to ride one, and even more impressed at Hagrid for not showing a dangerous creature. Sure, the Hippogriffs may look intimidating, and yes they can cause serious harm but that’s only if you were daft enough to disrespect them.

 As Harry touched down, you along with the rest of the Gryffindors cheered. Harry was placed back onto the ground by Hagrid and you were about to get his attention to ask for a ride yourself when Malfoy pushed you out of the way. Thankfully, Dean was able to catch you before you met the floor. “Yeah, you’re not scary at all are you, you big chicken,” you heard Malfoy confidently strut to the Hippogriff. Before any of you could stop it, Malfoy was attacked, and Hagrid was fussing over him saying that Malfoy would be fine. It took ‘Mione and you to scream that Malfoy needs to go to the hospital wing for Hagrid to snap out of his panic and carry the oaf who was now moaning in pain. Dean who had been holding you still, let go of you almost as if you were made of hot iron and apologized under his breath and sprinted to catch up with Seamus.

 You were about to yell out thank to Dean for catching you when you turned around and realized the reason for Dean’s sudden odd behavior. Harry was still watching Dean with an emotion that you were not able to place filling the green irises that you were so familiar with.

 “How much trouble do you reckon Hagrid’s gonna be in?” Ron asked as you all made your way towards the castle.

 “I don’t know. Knowing Malfoy’s father, we haven’t heard the last of this,” you somberly stated.

The next few weeks went by in a blur, Malfoy moaned over his arm, which in your opinion had nothing wrong with it. You saw him catch a piece of parchment you had thrown at him with his bandaged hand without so much a thought, or a bit of pain. He just put on a show whenever he thought people weren’t paying enough attention to him. The oaf. Urgh. You would purposely throw things at him and place heavy books atop his “broken arm” whenever you had the chance. Alright you suppose it was very mean to laugh in his misery but in your opinion had he just listened to Hagrid’s instructions nothing would have happened. Hagrid obviously felt awful and kept apologizing, but Malfoy was still a git about it. He was going on and on about how he was going to have Hagrid sacked and Buckbeak killed. Once he said it very loudly in front of Hagrid that it brought the happy giant man to tears. You, being the ever so kind and patient person, you were, “accidentally” pushed Malfoy into Bowtruckle dung while he was still laughing getting dung even into his mouth.

Aside from Malfoy there was a rather awkward situation that occurred between Harry, McLaggen and you. McLaggen was a showy upperclassman, he was the epitome of the stereotypical Gryffindor. Tough, and brash, but not exactly the brightest of the bunch. He stalked up to you during one morning, chest puffed out and toothy grin plastered over his face. To you he resembled more of an ape than a boy but that didn’t stop some girls from eyeing him. “Hey (Y/N),” he charmed as he pushed Harry and you apart and sat down between you.

“Top of the Mornin’ to ya, McLaggen,” you sarcastically stated. Harry and Ron snickered at the disinterest in your voice but McLaggen clearly didn’t get the hint (again nOt tHe bRiGhTeSt bUlB)

“Listen so the Hogsmeade trip is coming up,” he started.

“Is it? I didn’t know you could read a calendar,” you retorted but he chose to ignore your statement.

“I know that this is your first trip to Hogsmeade and for a bird it’s just sad to go alone. I know that you’re probably fretting over it but not to worry, you to accompany me,” he finished his proposition. You were actually dumbfounded for a second at his remark. He hadn’t even asked you out, he told you that you can go with him.

“McLaggen, though I’m sure that would be, er- well fun isn’t the right word, tolerable, it would be tolerable. I will not be going alone. However, if I ever find the need to be in the company of a donkey, I’ll let you know,” you hotly stated and walked away. 

“Mate she just called you an arse,” you faintly heard George bellow out over the laughter that filled the Great Hall. 

Soon it was time for your first ever Hogsmeade trip. You offered to stay with Harry when you realized that he wouldn’t be able to go with you, but he told you to go have fun. While on the way to Hogsmeade you noticed Ron nervously looking at you, he always looked like he wanted to say something but after sneaking a peak at Hermione he opted to stay quiet. Once you got to the village even Hermione started acting odd, glaring at you every once in a while. Upon getting the clue, you jogged on ahead of them, citing that you wanted to buy Harry something and went into Zonko’s Joke shop. As you made your way out of  Honeyduke’s you felt an arm wrap around you, but no one was near. Vanilla and Pine Cones. “Harry, no way, how?”

“Fred and George gave me this wicked map,” he explained getting out of his cloak. “It showed me a great route to take without alerting Filch.”

“Great. I was starting to get bored. Let’s go into Three Broomsticks and get a butterbeer. I’ve never tried one,” you stated while dragging him along with you.

“Where’s Ron and Hermione?” Harry asked as you found an empty booth in the corner. Madame Rosmerta, the bartender had given you a rather weird look when you went to counter to place the order.

“They were acting odd once they got here. I decided to leave them alone,” you stated. Your butterbeers came and you both drank the liquid, letting it fill you with warmth. You dragged Harry around with you through the entire village. From Honeyduke’s Harry brought enough sweets to last till Christmas, you had made a comment on it when he said that more than half of it was for you. From Zonko’s you brought Ron the Screaming Yo-Yo he had mentioned wanting. You even walked over to Madam Pudifoot’s but one look at the pink exterior and you pulled Harry with you in the opposite direction.

“Harry,” Hermione exclaimed, as Ron and she came out of the joke shop. Ron looked rather glum until you handed him your package. He opened it and almost tackled you onto the ground in a hug.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the action and kept talking to Harry, “How did you get here?”

“Never mind how,” Ron laughed, “Harry, we’ve got to go into Zonko’s there’s some wicked stuff in there for pranks.” As Hermione hit Ron, you noticed Madame Rosmerta outside of her pub.

“Hey ‘Mione, look who it is,” you diverted their attention to the bartender who was talking to the Minister of Magic, he was looking rather intimidated by her antics. You looked over at Ron who was very red in the face as Hermione took to teasing him about his crush on dear old Rossie.

“Sirius Black?” you heard her say over the chipper of the crowd. Almost immediately you felt movement from you back and you knew Harry was making a beeline for Three Broomsticks. Without another thought you placed an invisibility charm on yourself and walked in Harry’s footsteps.

“Sirius Black? Come now Minerva why would he be coming to Hogsmeade of all places?” you heard Rosmerta ask as McGonagall started to explain the horrendous crimes that Black did. You huddled in a corner far away from everyone in the room but still close enough to hear the conversation. You felt a warm presence next to you that you guessed to be Harry.

“In the darkest times, when James and Lily Potter had to go into hiding Sirius Black was appointed as their secret keeper. He was the only one in the world that knew about their whereabouts, and when it came time to, he betrayed them,” McGonagall explained as tears welled up in your eyes.

Poor Harry must be going through a tsunami of emotions right now, you worried. Knowing that Sirius Black was after him was one thing but now realizing that he was the sole reason his parents were killed must be doing a number on him. You could tell he was shaking, and you felt around for his arm and held on to it.

“So, you think what? That he wants to finish the job You-Know-Who started and kill the boy?” Rosmerta questioned.

McGonagall’s lips stretched into the thinnest line you had ever seen, “Rosmerta the fact of the matter is that he still remains Harry’s godfather. Not only that, that poor girl (Y/N), she has no clue of course.” Your head was spinning from all the revelation that was happening but at your name your ears perked up.

 “Oh, that lovely doll, the one with brown eyes and black hair,” Rosmerta added, “I just saw her in my shop, she’s a splitting image of her mum, it made me tear up a bit. I will say her eyes and that hair, that she got from her father. She reminds me so much of her mother, even smiles the same way. (Y/L/N) was such a wonderful woman.”

 “”Metra, my dear,” Fudge interrupted, “The lass has no idea that her mother was Estella (Y/L/N) and that her father is Sirius Black.”

Taglist: @missmulti​ @may-machin​ @magicalaquarian​ @junkersandroadies-son​ @prongsyy​ @cute-but-weirdo​ @lozzybowe​ @minecraftlover444​ @selmeuuh @play-morezeppelin​ @ilovespideyyy​ @wecouldbreakthedistance​

[parkersharthook]

We Felt Like Giants

Peter Stark-Rogers & Stark-Rogers!reader (twins)

warnings: struggles with identity, college apps are stressful

2.5k+ words

series masterlist

requested: what about if school is getting to be a lot? Or what do the parents/avengers do about?

You didn’t know how long you had been staring at your computer screen, but it got to the point where your eyesight was blyrry and no matter how much you willed the essay to write itself… it simply did not.

Your head was resting on your fist, your knuckles digging deep into your cheek. You graoned slightly, picked your head up, rubbed at your cheek slightly, then leaned back in the chair slumping heavily.

You were about to rest your fingers back on the keyboard, hoping to write something but a knock interrupted you.

Your dad poked his head in with a grin, “dinner.” He glanced at your posture and open computer, “unless you’re working on school. I can bring you something.”

You shook your head and stood up, cracking your back. “No, I need a break. What are we having?”

Steve shrugged as he fell into step with you, “it was Clint’s turn to pick so probably pizza but I’m not sure.”

You nodded and stretched your arms slighty as you entered the elevator, “oh yeah I could really go for some pizza.”

Steve glanced at you, “have you eaten anything today? I haven’t seen you leave your room all day.”

“Not since breakfast this morning.”

“y/n it’s important for you to-“

“yeah Pops I know, I’ve just been working. It slipped my mind and it’s not exactly like I’ve been exerting myself.” You stepped out of the elevator, “I’m fine.”

Steve sent you an unimpressed and unconvinced glare but you just continued into the common room to find mountains of pizza boxes, much to your chagrin. You immediately grabbed three slices of pizza and then moved to grab a plate, quickly putting the hot food on it. Peter came stumbling in through a window a minute later, not slowly down til he reached the boxes.

Wanda immediately crinkled her nose, “Christ Peter, you smell awful.”

He took a large bite of his pizza with a shrug, “fell into the sewer during patrol.”

Clint chuckled, “how do you fall into the sewer?”

Peter squinted his eyes at the older man, “thinking that I’ve watched you do it, you know exactly how.”

Tony made a shooing motion with his hands, urging Peter to leave. “go shower, I’ll save you a box.”

Peter finished off that slice before making a face and turning to leave. It finally seemed like everyone was settled around the table and quietly eating their pizza.

It was a nice distraction for you, of course until your historically noisy family ruined it.

“So how’s the college essay writing going?” Fuck you Nat.

You shrugged, “good if good means my page is completely blank.”

“college essay? School just started?” Bucky asked around a mouthful of pizza.

You shrugged, “yeah but most applications are due November first and I’ll really be screwed if I wait until then to do it. Plus, the sooner I send these in the sooner I’m done with applying to college and then I can really enjoy senior year.”

“why don’t you just write about growing up with the avengers? Seems pretty interesting.”

Yeah and wasn’t that the big idea. It was the suggestion everyone kept seeming to make. Your college counselor at school, your parents, MJ, and just about anyone that had an opinion on your essay.

You shrugged, “It crossed my mind but that just seems like a cope out. The essay is supposed to be about me, and it’s super open so I don’t know why I’m struggling.”

Wanda furrowed her brow, “but growing up around the avengers is about you. You talk about all the stuff that no one has seen before. Or are you trying to hide who you are?”

“No it’s not that,” You said as you shook your head, “I can’t avoid that because the common app requires dads’ information and schooling and stuff. Can’t get around being a Stark-Rogers this time.”

“should I be taking offense to that?” Steve asked as he sipped at his beer.

You laughed and shook your head, “no. Plus only the admissions officers read it and it really could be a hit or miss if they like the avengers so in theory writing about you guys could hurt me.”

Natasha shrugged, “I don’t know I still think it’s a good essay topic. But you seem really against it, why?”

You cast your eyes down and fiddled with a piece of crust. “I feel like… --sigh—I just think that maybe the most interesting thing about me shouldn’t be you. Like I know family is a huge part of your identity but all my friends are still writing about themselves, ya know? And I don’t get why I would be the exception. I mean there has to be something about me that doesn’t involve you guys? Right? Like I’m my own person?”

You hadn’t realize that small tears had begun to stream down your cheeks. You shook your head as you mumbled, “sorry.” You let out a wet chuckle, “this whole college app thing is pretty stressful.”

Steve stood up and came around to give you one of his signature comforting dad hugs. It definitely made you feel better.

“what did I miss?” Peter asked with confusion as he walked into the room, the now awake Morgan in his arms. “also Morgan woke up from her nap so I brought her down.”

Tony accepted the still sleepy five year old into his arms, “pizza?” Morgan just slumped against his chest and shook his head. He turned to his son, “what are you writing your college essay about Pete?”

“well since I’m applying to engineering programs I thought it’d be good if I talked about how building robots out of scraps helped me cope while in foster care.”

Clint shifted uncomfortably, “you remember your time in foster care?”

Now this was a conversation you did not want to be apart of. But you certainly couldn’t just leave the room without at least three people following you with worried glares.

“well I know we were young and we were only in it for a year and it was mostly the orphanage but yeah… I remember it.” A heavy silence filled the table. “I mean I am definitely embellishing it a little for dramatic flare but it’s mostly true.” That startled a laugh out of you that then prompted the others to laugh as well.

After that, the college essay talk slowed down and the normal arguing/conversations settled in. Bucky asked Steve how his day at SHIELD went while Tony and Natasha tried to get Morgan to eat something. Peter had both Clint and Wanda engrossed in a pretty intense debate about who was the most powerful character in Avatar: The Last Airbender. The only person that sat quietly, other than yourself of course, was Sam and he just kept sending you worried glances that didn’t help you settle at all.

It wasn’t until after dinner was done, the dishes clean, and the boxes thrown away did you finally escape back to your room. Your family had proven to be a good distraction but your mind was still stuck on your essay and suddenly being around everyone just made you want to vomit. So you escaped.

You were laying on your bed, lazily scrolling through your phone when Clint, Sam, and Natasha came in.  

You picked up your head slightly, “what’s up.”

“We came to help you with your essay.” Clint said with a smile as he collapsed into your desk chair.

You sat up fully with a confused brow, “you guys? Why?”

Sam shrugged, “because we’re the only ones without super powers who aren’t emotionally stunted.”

Your eyes flitted over Clint. He scoffed, “rude.”

“I just meant-“

“it’s fine I get it. But it’s either me or Rhodey and he’s really much better at practical action than words. Or you dad but we figured he was too emotionally invested.”

You sighed, “I appreciate it guys… but I don’t really think you get it.”

Nat stepped into your room next, eyes glancing over the photos you had hung up above your bed before settling her gaze to yours. “you’re stuggling with knowing who you are outside your family. It’s normal and while you definitely don’t have to figure it out you feel like you need to because you have to write an essay about it.”

You slumped onto your back, “fine I guess you do get it. But how can you guys help me? You all know who you are, I doubt you’ve struggled like this.”

It was Sam’s turn to scoff and then offer sage advise, “are you kidding? I was one of six siblings. I had no idea who the hell I was outside of my sisters growing up, and then I joined the Air Force to help and it did but then I lost Riley and left and the whole thing started over again. Then I was with your pops and then I wasn’t and then I was. And during that whole thing I wasn’t sure if I was a soldier in my heart or just because the captain America was aksing me to do it. It comes in waves and it’s hard to ever know who you are… but y/n it’s normal. It’s healthy.”

“yeah but know you’ve got it all figured out.”

“took me a while. Also I’m a fully grown adult, I’m supposed to have it together. Your’e a kid, it’s okay to be still figuring it out.”

“hey… I’m 18.”

“since last week. Give yourself time to be a kid and figure it out.”

“well tahnk you for the life advice but that doesn’t help me write my essay.” You snarked back causing Sam to sigh.

Nat rolled her eyes and landed next to you on the bed, “relax we’re going to help you brainstorm ideas.”

You looked around the three of them, “thanks.”

Clint smiled and then put your laptop on his legs and spun to face you, “anytime. Okay so we know family is off the table….”

-

It was your midterm week when Peter got his decision back from MIT.

The family decided it was best to curb opening it until he had finished his exams and for Christmas break to start. Those were some painstakingly long days for Peter, which in result meant you too because he would come to you when stressed or frustrated.

You honestly didn’t even care about your exams by the time the week was over. Pass or fail you just wanted to fucking open that letter to calm Peter down.

He got in. Tony cried.

Bucky had inquired when you would find out from your schools causing you to explaint hat Peter had ED’d which meant he had priority and found out sooner than you did. It wouldn’t be until April until you found out.

And fuck did that cuase you to spiral.

April. 4 more months. Fuck.

-

It was the day of Prom when your letter came. You had thrown in on your desk with nonchalance and left to get ready with MJ, Gwen, and Betty. You had commandeered your parents’ large en-suite bathroom for the four of you to get all dolled up.

It wasn’t until later when peter was looking for you when he came across the letter.

He walked into the en-suite soon after, the letter in his fingers. “hey y/n your letter came- oh wow you guys look great.”

You and gwen snickered because Peter may have said ‘you guys’ but he was staring directly at MJ. In his defense, she did look ethereal in her silver sparkly gown

Gwen smirked to herself, “thanks Peter, you don’t look too bad yourself. What’s that?”

“what’s what?” He continued to stare dumbly at Mj, who was now blushing fiercely. Finally he snapped out of it and gestured to the letter. “oh it’s y/n’s letter from Columbia.”

Immediatley all eyes snapped to you, causing you to roll your eyes and step forward to grab it. “well thanks for that Peter. I’m waiting til after Prom weekend to open it.”

“what why?” Betty asked sincerely.

“Because I’m not about to have my night ruined by a dumb college decision. Whether or not I got in, I’ve already been accepted to great schools. So…” you plucked the letter from Peter’s fingers, “I’m going to open this sometime later and enjoy my night tonight with my friends.”

Peter rolled his eyes at your dramatics, “well then you girls need to hurry up. Ned, Flash, Harry and I are getting tired of waiting.”

And boy wasn’t that a group. Ned, the longtime friend of Peter and boyfriend to Betty. Flash, the ex-bully of Peter’s and newly reformed person who is now and integral part of the group. And Harry, the heir to oscorp and the crush of both the stark-rogers.

Your family looked at your group and thought ‘messy’.

You looked at your group and thought ‘damn my friend group is messy, but fuck do I love them all so much.’

So you swallowed your pride (and crush) and let Peter ask harry to Prom, who obviously said yes. So now here you went, simeltaniously watching your brother take your crush to prom and stare at his other crush while she sparkled in under the strobe lights.

Fuck, maybe your family was right. Maybe this was messy.

Prom night turned out to be one of the best nights of your life. You and all your friends had plenty of fun before going to Eugene’s beach house for the weekend.

That’s where the real party began.

-

You didn’t even think about your decisions letter until late Monday night. You and Peter had gotten home well into the afternoon, both of you nursing hangovers and struggling to hide it from your parents.

Your dads entered your room where you were slumped on your bed.

Fuck, you were definitely about to get lectured for underage drinking and shit like that.

To your surprise however, your pops just handed you a letter. The letter you had forgotten about. “You left it in our bathroom before you went to Prom. We assume to wanted to wait til after to open it.”

You swallowed and took the letter into shaky hands. You opened it agonizingly slow and then pulled out the letter. Tears formed in your eyes.

Both your dads quickly moved to pull you into a large hug to console you but it was your hesitatnt voice that stopped them, “I got in.”

“you got in!” tony shouted happily, “that’s amazing!”

“I’m so proud of you!” Steve cheered as he moved you off the bed and into his arms. Tony came around to join the hug, jumping up and down while cheering.

Sure, your head was pounding from the noise and movement but laughter still fell from your lips as you celebrated with your fathers.

You were going to Columbia, you were going to find your place in this world.

[today-only-happens-once]

So About LAOFT??

I am having all the feels and it’s all @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors‘s fault (in the absolute best kind of way) so I’m here to rant about it. 

So I just spent the last two nights churning through the Love and Other Fairytales main storyline (future nights will def be spent reading the supporting one-shots/fics that are tied to it). 

Tl;dr: I word-vomit about why LAOFT is a work of absolute art because I needed to ramble out my many feelings. Spoilers below. 

 I did my best to leave kudos on each one as I went, but I’m also certain I probably missed some in my excitement to rush to read the next section. Also, RIP to the comments I sent to them sporadically as I went where it’s mostly me just time-stamping my progress and then keysmashing. 

I have MANY thoughts. First of all, the prose??!?! Is hecking gorgeous?? I mean, its such a beautifully told story. The writing of it is exquisite. I knew I was gonna fall down this rabbit hole with the very first line: “ Ask three people how to get to Wickhills, Ohio, and you will get four different answers.” It’s just.... yeah. The prose is beautiful and at times, vaguely ethereal, and that builds into the tones of themes and setting so well (it’s abut fae, after all) that I leaves me speechless. 

The characters!! I have always been very skeptical of fics that heavily feature OCs, but there are also always fics that make me reconsider that reading bias and this is definitely one of them. Mamaw was always an absolute joy in any chapter. Plus, Tulip’s OCs are dynamic and interesting and unique from each other, and they weave into the lore so well that I’m just. Catch me waving a “Mamaw’s #1″ flag over here in the corner okay. (Also fan of Greta, tbh)

The story construction?? I COULD RANT FOREVER ABOUT THEIR STORY CONSTRUCTION. Some of the twists I had such a verbal/physical reaction to my mom was like “are you okay??” It’s a story that welcomes theories and hypothesizing as you go, but be ready to get surprised several times (at least that was my case). But the twists and turns in the plot never once felt cheap or out of left field. They’d always been there, since the beginning of the story, and that’s a mark of truly terrific writing. Not to mention, the development of lore and the way it’s interwoven into the very fabric of the setting and plot development-- oof. It’s amazing and beautiful to read.

Okay okay I talked about OC characters but also!! The character development of the main cast of characters was brilliantly executed. I think I’m especially soft for Roman and Logan in this fic, but all of them get strong and gradual development--both independent of their romantic relationship that is budding but also at times, resulting from it. And I love that. It’s not super often that we see complex character development in fics, and I love how natural the progression feels throughout.

ALSO! Speaking of characters. I loved some of the canon stuff that Tulip was able to weave into their story in very different ways. Deceit’s disguising himself as other Sides, being one example. Roman’s recklessness being another. Logan’s fear of not being heard. Virgil’s “Tempest Tongue” thing and the name thing. Patton hiding his negative emotions. It was beautifully done. Truly. 

And also, just general emotions. Tulip writes emotions--especially when they’ve reached a climax--so well it leaves me feeling so much alongside them. No where does this shine brighter, in my opinion, than in “a field of burning lavender”. The build-up of Logan pressuring an answer out of Roman and Roman finally telling him... the tension was paced so well and described in a way where I could feel it and also the very different emotions that immediately followed it with Logan on the porch.... I LOVE that kind of build-release dynamic in fics and Tulip had this build-up coming for so long, and then ramped it up with well-paced dialogue and body-language cues and it’s. It’s one of my favorite parts of this fic. 

Other moments that were my faves in no particular order:

Thomas coming down stairs and being like “yeah sure let’s send back what we took from the fey who wants to help me pack” I just. I LOVED protective!bro Thomas so much and I especially adored it coming back in full-force after we hadn’t seen too much of him in a while. 

The lil group hug where Roman and Virgil made a shelter of sorts over the other two it just made me v soft

“Virgil, catch!” WHAT AN ICONIC MOMENT That progression of events will probably be forever seared into my mind 

Roman punching the kid that dumped the stuff on Logan and then staying with him until he had finished counting them. Especially Logan being aware of his surroundings and unable to leave, and his little “you didn’t have to stay”.... I just loved it. It was such a big moment for their friendship/relationship

Realizing that monster in the woods was Greta. That plot twist I didn’t see coming but as soon as they said it, I was like “that makes TOTAL SENSE?!?!”

Logan losing it on Roman after the whole fairy wine thing, I just love protective!Logan okay

The kisses!! All of them!! LAMP is sailing and I’m all on board.

Thank you so, so much for all the hard work you put into this universe, Tulip. I’m truly grateful and awed by your dedication and clear passion. I can’t wait to read more of this universe!

[rainhalydia]

I wasn't in fandom at the time, so I'm curious about how you felt, as a Throbb shipper, about GRRM confirming Robb didn't love Theon as much as he loved Jon? And how did Throbb shippers in general feel about it?

Well, I can’t say how Throbb shippers in general felt. Not that happy, I’d guess? I can tell how I felt and still feel about it, though I didn’t see that interview until long after the fact so I didn’t catch any drama anyway. To sum it up: I don’t care.

A much longer, rambling word-vomit under the cut:

I think I summed up my feelings very exactly, but I kept thinking a lot about this ask and having lots of opinions, so here we go. I’ll preface this long-ass rant by saying I have no professional training in literary analysis. I just read a lot, overthink everything and had two classes in college about literature.

First of all, this tendency to give great weight - i.e., to care at all - about what writers have to say about their own work is completely foreign to me. I mean it literally - the main framework of literary analysis I’ve encountered throughtout my education was basically centered around the text, and I very much adopt it without even giving it conscious thought. I don’t seek out interviews, addendums, essays, anything at all. Sometimes I read it if they fall on my lap. Such was the case with this interview.

It’s not that writers don’t have things to say, or that those things are not interesting or valuable or sometimes shed a new light on their work. It’s that at the end of the day they’re not important! Only canon is canon. I don’t mean to sound snob or pedantic, like the books are law or something. And any canon has a number of valid interpretations (within limits), they’re not absolute, they allow some wiggle room. But any text needs by definition to stand on its own without writers poking their heads inside the room to say how we should interpret it. If we need imput from the writers to do it, then the text is already bad, it failed, sorry. Interpretation is the reader’s job. In fact, it’s the reader’s prerrogative.

Much of this hipe around authors, I believe, has to do with the rise of social media and how close to the public writers suddenly were. And I feel that applies especially for authors like Martin, who are very talented and have created a very rich world that has become really popular. And ASOIAF is still ongoing. It’s natural that everyone wants to pick at his brain and know where the story is going!

And here I make my second very unpopular point: authors are not specialists in their own work.

He knows more than anyone about it, certainly, and currently Martin is probably the only person who knows how things will end (though we have plenty of bare bones the show left), but he is, as he has admited himself, a gardener. The story was bound to get away from him, given his own writting style. The group of people who will be specialists on his work don’t include him, and they don’t even exist yet. They will only emerge when he’s stopped writing (so probably after his death) and his work has ended (if it was finished or not). Then people can read every single thing he has ever written, which is much more than ASOIAF, and analyse it to death, pick it apart from every single angle, the ones Martin intended to be there and the ones he didn’t.

Again, I don’t mean to come across as snobbish and say Martin does not know his own work, characters, creation, etc. He does! But no writer can leave all their biases behind when they start writing, so these books are not neutral to begin with. Add to it the lots and lots of variables readers will bring when they interpret the text, and any book is always going to be more than the author intends by default.

If my argument seems absurd, let me point out that it has already happened to a certain degree: my own interpretation from reading ASOIAF is that it is full of anti-war, anti-violence messages, and yet from it has sprung an adaptation that, in my own interpretation, glorifies war and violence to a ridiculous degree. I’m not alone in these opinions, btw. They’re pretty common in fandom spaces, so I’m sure I didn’t pull them out of thin air. We can argue until we’re blue in the face that the Ds can’t read anything for shit, they certainly don’t do themselves any favors, but you know, they interpreted the books well enough to correctly guess who was Jon’s mother and get permission to adapt it in the first place. I’ve since seen people (I’m not naming names, anyone still reading will just have to take my word for it, but I swear they do exist) defend that the show is a faithful adaptation of the books and that the glorification of war was there too, and others say that the show didn’t actually glorify war, it had an anti-war message! Who is wrong? Well, I don’t know. As I said, the GRRM’s specialists are yet to come, and I’m certainly not one of them. What I believe, however, is that all of us brought our own biases to the same text, interpreted it according to them, and came to different, often conflicting conclusions.

See also what GRRM said about the partnership between Jaehaerys and Alysanne and what most people made of their relationship from Fire and Blood. See the sept sex/rape scene controversy. See the Dany/Drogo controversy.

Do you get why I put little weight in Martin’s interviews to form my opinion? So given that and my own background, I’ll chose my own interpretation of the text rather than Martin’s apocrypha.

What does the book canon, and the book canon alone, say about Robb’s feelings for Theon? Well, unless new material is released, we’ll just never know for sure, because Robb isn’t a pov character. We do have Theon’s side of things - he has a certain affection for Robb, he’s more of a brother than his own brothers, he wishes he had died with him or at least that he had been there at the moment of Robb’s death, depending on how sincere he feels like being. We also know a little bit of what other characters thought of their relationship. Bran says Robb admired Theon and enjoyed his company, and it’s implied that he finds this baffling. He’s also jealous that Robb spends more time with Theon and other adults doing adult things than with his brothers. And though I’ve talked at lenght about interpretation and wiggle room to understand things, it’s also pretty evident that Robb is down to hear Theon talk about his sexual conquests in some detail as long as his brothers aren’t around.

Of course, Bran is a child and much as he loves Robb, their time together is cut short and Robb is not his main concern anyway. We get most material about Robb and Theon’s relationship from Cat’s pov. There’s a lot we can analyse and Damien had already done a great not-meta about it, but sadly he’s since deleted, thank you to the demons who got on his case, but for me the most damning piece of evidence that Robb feels very strongly for Theon is this:

“Robb will avenge his brothers. Ice can kill as dead as fire. Ice was Ned’s greatsword. Valyrian steel, marked with the ripples of a thousand foldings, so sharp I feared to touch it. Robb’s blade is dull as a cudgel compared to Ice. It will not be easy for him to get Theon’s head off, I fear. The Starks do not use headsmen. Ned always said that the man who passes the sentence should swing the blade, though he never took any joy in the duty.”

So to unpack what is going on: nearly drowing in grief, Cat rambles to Brienne about lots of things, including Theon’s impending death sentence. By Northern dumb tradition, Robb must be the one to behead Theon, his former best friend turned enemy, turned betrayer, turned brother-killer. And she says that it won’t be easy for him to do it.

Now, it can be argued that this is partly because of the sword. They’ve lost their sharp valyrian steel and Robb uses an inferior blade, not as sharp. I reject this interpretation as the only explanation (and here comes my own biases) because she mentions the headsman right after. A headsman might be more experienced, but it’s not like he’d have valyrian steel to do it either. Rather, I think she’s talking about how being able to pass Theon off to be killed by a headsman would be easier on Robb psychologically, but it’s not really an option, so Robb will have to suffer.

At this point, to Robb’s knowledge, Theon has: 1) betrayed his trust and used the ruse of negociations with Balon to escape; 2) attacked the northern shore and enslaved his people; 3) attacked and took control of his home; 4) made his brothers hostages; 5) killed his brothers; 6) denied his brothers the right to be buried in a decent way; and finally, 7) burned their bodies and exposed them for all of the North to see.

And after all this, having to be the one to kill Theon will make him suffer.

We know one of the moments Robb gets the angriest in the books is when Bran is threatened by the wildlings. He is the acting Lord and keeping his little brothers safe is his responsability. He nearly bites Theon’s head off when Theon saves Bran in a risky way and we know that was uncharacteristic because Theon is still sulking about that a whole year later. So his siblings are dear to him, but even after Theon does everything from steps 1 to 4, he’s still sure they’re not in danger and that Theon won’t do anything to them. That’s how much he trusts Theon. It takes literal murder to make him change his mind.

But then he does change his mind. He believes Theon did those awful, awful things to his brothers. After that knowledge has had time to settle in, after he believes the worst of Theon, he has this amazing convo with Cat that I’ll quote whole because it’s amazing:

“Enough.” For just an instant Robb sounded more like Brandon than his father. “No man calls my lady of Winterfell a traitor in my hearing, Lord Rickard.” When he turned to Catelyn, his voice softened. “If I could wish the Kingslayer back in chains I would. You freed him without my knowledge or consent … but what you did, I know you did for love. For Arya and Sansa, and out of grief for Bran and Rickon. Love’s not always wise, I’ve learned. It can lead us to great folly, but we follow our hearts … wherever they take us. Don’t we, Mother?”

Is that what I did? “If my heart led me into folly, I would gladly make whatever amends I can to Lord Karstark and yourself.”

Lord Rickard’s face was implacable. “Will your amends warm Torrhen and Eddard in the cold graves where the Kingslayer laid them?” He shouldered between the Greatjon and Maege Mormont and left the hall.

Robb made no move to detain him. “Forgive him, Mother.”

“If you will forgive me.”

“I have. I know what it is to love so greatly you can think of nothing else.”

Catelyn bowed her head. “Thank you.” I have not lost this child, at least.

So we know that what is going on here is that Robb is buttering Cat up before breaking the news of his marriage to Jeyne to her. One of the possible interpretations supported by the text is that Jeyne is in love with Robb and Robb is not in love with her. It’s a common reading that he married her out of honor and to avoid a possible Jon Snow situation. During their marriage, he seems to grow fond of her - Cat notices he likes her company better, and her brother’s, and that he laughs when he is with the Westerlings - but he also keeps some distance. She’s afraid of Grey Wind, which pretty much means being afraid of a part of him. In turn, he’s attentive, courteous, and a bit touched and annoyed at her public displays of affection.

Then there is this gem:

“His heir failed him.” Robb ran a hand over the rough weathered stone. “I had hoped to leave Jeyne with child … we tried often enough, but I’m not certain…”

And this is more Damien’s not-meta than my own, but once you see it, you can’t ever unsee it. Compare the bolded parts in that quote in the first Cat-Robb convo to the part bolded in the second one, put them side to side and tell me you can’t see the difference. In the first one, Robb basically spells it out that he’s made a mistake out of love, that love turned him into a fool, but it was stronger than him. At that point of the narrative, Robb’s biggest mistake (and notably it was HIS mistale, it was not a case of the narrative screwing him over) was to free Theon. A mistake that caused him to lose his brothers, castle and a significant chunk of political standing. The consequences of marrying Jeyne, which is pretty much only to lose the Freys, don’t even compare - especially because the Stark faction believes they can win their support back.

And this love that made him act like a fool is further described in the second bolded part of that quote. He loved so greatly that he could think of nothing else. That is some passion there, folks. Even considering that he’s trying to get Cat on his side, it strikes me as so sincere and heartfelt. And again, maybe it’s my own biases showing, but that sounds like an all-consuming love, the kind of love that doesn’t go away easily. I don’t see that same depth of emotion on the second bolded quote… they tried often enough. Does it add up with the first part? I don’t think so.

My conclusion, and forgive me if the shipper gogles come in, is that the love that hurt him, that consumed him, is the love he had for Theon. Not for his wife. But it was in the past, one might say. His marriage was just beginning, he and Jeyne grow closer, etc. I’ll quote two more bits:

“I cannot speak to that. There is much confusion in any war. Many false reports. All I can tell you is that my nephews claim it was this bastard son of Bolton’s who saved the women of Winterfell, and the little ones. They are safe at the Dreadfort now, all those who remain.”

“Theon,” Robb said suddenly. “What happened to Theon Greyjoy? Was he slain?”

Here we are nearing the Red Wedding. Some Freys come to pretend to make peace and pressure for a wedding to Edmure and they bring news of the battle of Winterfell. Professional writers don’t often abuse the “suddenly” like us poor fic writers, so when he says it was sudden, i believe it was sudden. I believe it came out of nowhere, in fact, and that Robb was the only one in that room considering Theon’s fate.

Roose Bolton removed a ragged strip of leather from the pouch at his belt. “My son sent this with his letter.”

Ser Wendel turned his fat face away. Robin Flint and Smalljon Umber exchanged a look, and the Greatjon snorted like a bull. “Is that … skin?” said Robb.

“The skin from the little finger of Theon Greyjoy’s left hand. My son is cruel, I confess it. And yet … what is a little skin, against the lives of two young princes? You were their mother, my lady. May I offer you this … small token of revenge?“ 

Part of Catelyn wanted to clutch the grisly trophy to her heart, but she made herself resist. “Put it away. Please.”

“Flaying Theon will not bring my brothers back,” Robb said. “I want his head, not his skin.”

Aside from Catelyn, who is torn, and maybe the Greatjon (I don’t know what snorting like a bull is supposed to convey), no one in that room approves of torturing Theon, they’re all rightly creeped out. But no one would blink an eye if Robb had ordered Theon flayed alive. Instead, he commands the torture to stop. Of course it’s the only decent thing to do, but let’s all appreciate how the character who is always arguing for peace, end of conflict and letting things go for the sake of the living and what can still be saved instead of more violence, is tempted by it. Robb is the only one who shares the full extent of Cat’s grief here, but he’s also the only one to try and stop the senseless punishment.

I joke all the time about how Throbb is canon, and it’s mostly jokes. They are not canon in the sense that Cat and Ned are canon, and I don’t think we’ll have any more facts added to their story together, there probably won’t be any flashbacks that hint at a romantic relationship between them. But looking at the text alone, what we have of it as of now, it’s possible to support a canonical reading for this ship. This interpretation is there in the text if you want to see it. In fact, some things make more sense if Robb was in love with Theon.

And you know, having a ship be supported by canon is not actually a condition that needs to be met to ship anything. It’s just something I particularly need to get into it. But even if you read Theon and Robb as just friends, it’s a reach to say that Robb didn’t love Theon.

Of course, we have Robb demonstrating affection towards Jon in the books too. He is Robb’s chosen heir, to Cat’s despair. Despite all the negative propaganda bastards get and the fact that the mother he so respected and loved disliked and distrusted Jon, Robb considers him a full brother, to compare to Sansa’s constant “half-brother” from the beginning of her journey. They’re seen having a good time together (they have a horse race in their very first appearance in the books, and Mance recalls them getting into trouble together as children), so they enjoy each other’s company.

Yet there’s also an undercurrent of sibling rivalry between them, seen from Jon’s pov. We have this bit with Benjen:

Benjen gave Jon a careful, measuring look. “You don’t miss much, do you, Jon? We could use a man like you on the Wall.”

Jon swelled with pride. “Robb is a stronger lance than I am, but I’m the better sword, and Hullen says I sit a horse as well as anyone in the castle.”

This is hilarious to me. My uncle paid me a compliment for being perceptive, a skill not at all related to martial skills! Time to compare my martial skills to my brother’s, even though we’re both 14 and there’s lots of more tried warriors in the world and we haven’t even had our last growh spurt! This is sure to impress a seasoned ranger!

Of course we know Jon’s rivalry towards Robb comes from his bastard status, but it’s interesting to me that it’s something that centers around Robb alone; he doesn’t compare himself to Bran or Rickon as far as I remember. That can be explained by their very similar ages and growing up together, I think. Jon has the advantage of being older than his other true born brothers.

Jon also says this:

Bastard children were born from lust and lies, men said; their nature was wanton and treacherous. Once Jon had meant to prove them wrong, to show his lord father that he could be as good and true a son as Robb. I made a botch of that. Robb had become a hero king; if Jon was remembered at all, it would be as a turncloak, an oathbreaker, and a murderer. He was glad that Lord Eddard was not alive to see his shame.

To Jon - and to the other Stark children - Robb is often the model to be emmulated. I won’t dig up all the times they hold him up as the ideal of bravery. Jon’s feelings are not unique in this sense, though they are when it comes to the rivalry. They all admire Robb. From Robb’s side, I don’t remember hints of him admiring Jon or any of his siblings. He certainly loves them, likes them, and enjoys spending time with Jon at the very least.

But Theon is the one Robb admires in text. Bran says it, and Theon too:

“There is nothing small about the letter I bear,” Theon said, “and the offer he makes is one I suggested to him.”

“This wolf king heeds your counsel, does he?” The notion seemed to amuse Lord Balon.

“He heeds me, yes. I’ve hunted with him, trained with him, shared meat and mead with him, warred at his side. I have earned his trust. He looks on me as an older brother, he—”

Readers often dismiss this as Theon’s garden variety empty bragging. To be fair, Theon very much distorts reality in his head to fit his own idea of how things should be, but this is one of the few times when he’s not doing that. He’s genuinely proud that Robb thinks so well of him. And since he’s so sensitive about what people think of him and people not giving him the credit he thinks he deserves, I’m ready to believe his account of facts this one time.

What I get from canon, regarding who Robb loves the most out of Jon and Theon, is that he loves them differently. He might even love Jon more by ASOS; it’s a wonder that we have hints that he still cares about Theon at all by the end, after the murders of who we know are the miller boys, but who Robb thinks are Bran and Rickon.

He had different relationships with them. Even if you reject the reading of Throbb as romantic, friends and siblings are not interchangable, even if you’re out there calling close friends brothers or if your brother is your best friend. It’s different sorts of affection. At the beginning of the series, Robb and Theon seemed closer to me than Robb and Jon - let’s not forget that Jon’s favorite is Arya, and the biggest family drama at that time has to do with Jon and Cat. They grow even closer as they go to war together, and then they’re pushed apart by circumstances and by Theon’s actions.

But okay, this is not long enough yet, so let’s say that this is an invalid framework of analysis and Martin’s word of god has as much weight as canon, and that in fact, we’re 100% certain that Robb loved Jon more than Theon.

Why does it even need to be a competition? No one holds it against Ygritte that Jon loves Arya more. Asha has a steady boyfriend that she’d gladly marry, and still she takes risk after risk for Theon. Ned was probably the greatest love of Cat’s life, but her interactions with her brother and uncle are still emotional and moving in great part because of the depth of her love for them.

Robb loving Jon more doesn’t take anything away from Theon. He doesn’t love Theon less because he loves Jon more, love is not a finite resource. And Robb loved Theon plenty, be it in a familial, friends or romantic way. If it diminished, that was a result of Theon’s choices alone.

[marshmallowgoop]

This is something I should have edited together.

So here it is: (a lot of!) the sweet messages I’ve received in the last month or so that are in direct response to my anonymous hate mail. 

I don’t know how true it is, but I’ve heard it said that humans are remarkably negative creatures, and it takes so many more positive experiences to balance out just one negative experience. And maybe it’s not that universal a thing, but I can say that it sure feels relevant to my own life.

So, I think it’s important to remind myself that, no matter how much it seems like it’s so easy to attack me but so difficult to support me, I’ve actually received far more kind messages than cruel messages throughout this whole mess. And the kind messages are so much more thoughtful, too—and often attached to real names! 

And... I think that says something when I’m as cringey and humiliating as I am. These folks aren’t too ashamed to say that they’re here for me and what I do.

(But that said, I have removed names from anything that wasn’t a reblog or reply because I don’t want to embarrass anyone. Please let me know if you don’t want your words here at all, and I’ll blur them out. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.)

There’s some stuff I want to address under the cut—along with a transcript if anyone is interested in reading these words but has trouble with the screenshots—but more important than any of my ramblings to follow, I want to thank everyone who took the time to write out these supportive sentiments and who continues to support me. I know these meltdowns are a drag, and I know I’ve been a nuisance. Thank you for sticking with me. I aim to be better and live up to what these messages say.

First things first, I want to clarify why I posted the collage of all the hate the other day. I didn’t approach that well, and I’m sorry. I realized too late that it was a bad decision.

Really, that collage was more meant just for me. Maybe it’s sad, but I’ve been actively writing on this site for a good half decade now, and for a lot of that time, I’ve almost craved anon hate. I was disappointed that I never got any. I wondered what the heck I was doing wrong.

After all, I have so many unpopular opinions. I realized that a lot of the community disliked me—or if that’s too strong a word, I knew they didn’t want anything to do with me—because of what I think and how I feel. But they never wanted to voice anything to my face. I wasn’t worth the effort to be attacked. I was nothing. Nobody.

There’s this quote from Tibor Kalman that I think about a lot: “[W]hen you make something no one hates, no one loves it.” If no one hated me enough to hate me right to my face, I thought, then I wasn’t good enough. I was boring. Easily forgotten. Not worth the effort.

So, getting all that anon hate for the first time? God, it hurt. It hurt so bad. Getting everything I’d always feared the community hated about me—as well as things I didn’t even consider them hating about me—right in my inbox? Ow. I cried a lot. I wanted to burn everything I ever wrote a lot. I wanted to quit making stuff for this community a lot. 

What’s the use? I thought—selfishly, of course, keeping in mind all the support up above. Why do I try? It was cruel and unfair, but I kept thinking these things. I kept thinking, What’s the use when nobody wants me here?

But I also thought about the implications of getting all that stuff thrown at me. And I knew it meant one thing: I’m not boring anymore.

There is at least one person out there who frequently checks my blog for more things to rail on me for. There is at least one person going out of their way to write nasty, awful, mean-spirited messages. There is at least one person eagerly waiting for me to respond, to say something, anything, so that they can hurt me and drag me and push me down.

After all these years, to at least one person, I’m worth the effort. No matter how much the messages have stung and destroyed me, I wanted to keep a record of them to remind myself, hey. Someone or someones out there hate(s) me this much for having a different opinion on a cartoon. Maybe that says that my opinions on this cartoon are worth something. 

I mean, they’re worth this level of mocking and ridicule, right?

But... I could have just kept the collage to myself. It’s a personal motivation. Nobody else needs to see these terrible things. That just encourages the cruelty even more. Why did I publicize it?

Well, it’s not too uncommon for Internet content creators to make something out of their hate comments. I like the trend of turning the comments into songs, like here, for example:

At the end of the video, Madilyn Bailey, the artist, says that the purpose of the song is to mock Internet troll culture and make something positive from the negativity.

But I wouldn’t say that that was really my motivation for posting my collage. Call me silly and naive, but I wanted to draw attention to these Internet fandom issues. Everything in that collage is what I was having to deal with... on top of my normal life struggles. 

While all of this was happening, I was tapering off my anxiety and depression medication because I felt it wasn’t as effective as it could be and because I feared it was making me lose my hair—something that I am extremely self-conscious about. I cut my hair short nearly a decade ago, and it’s never grown back to the same length. 

So, needless to say, while all of this was happening, I was horrified about the big clumps of hair lost in the shower. I was dealing with lightheadedness and dizziness from the withdrawal of my meds (which I’m still dealing with, btw), and I was also dealing with stresses at work. My department has changed management within the last year, and there’s been the concern that people will lose their jobs. There’s been the concern that this occupation won’t be enough to support me anymore.

While all of this was happening, I was stressed about my career, about money, about growing older—the beginning of the anon hate assault was just days before my birthday. I couldn’t see my therapist as much as I wanted because there ain’t enough therapists out there for all this world’s issues. 

And while I know that I shouldn’t compare, I also know well that my struggles are nothing compared to the struggles of others. So, how must it feel to deal with all the crap that life just normally throws at you, that’s probably a lot worse for most people than it is for me... and then come home to messages that treat you like a disgusting, horrible, awful human being for your feelings on a cartoon? For work you offer to a community for free and fun? 

For answers to questions that you only answered because you were asked to?!

Well, it felt pretty bad to me.

When I posted my collage, I meant to send a message about how this is not okay. I don’t want to see this kind of behavior, and I’m bothered that I don’t know how normal or common what happened to me is. Is this an everyday occurrence for online content creators? Have I just been shielded all these years because I wasn’t interesting enough?

I hoped that by sharing what I was going through, it’d draw attention to the problem. We shouldn’t be treating our fandom content creators like this. It’s not fair. It’s sick.

Of course, I don’t want to guilt anyone into supporting me. I don’t want anyone to feel like they can’t criticize me. I don’t want anyone to feel that, just because I was dealing with a Lot in life, any poor behavior on my part is somehow okay. It isn’t.

The comments that probably hurt me the most in that collage aren’t even the “hate” ones. They’re the ones that express that I messed up. That I hurt them. I can’t say I agree with how these feelings were expressed, but more than any nasty, personally insulting message, those probably hit hardest. I hate the feeling that I’m disappointing my followers. In fact, in taking screenshots for this post, I saw that at least one of the people who had sent me a sweet message has since unfollowed. And that—the sense that I should just stop, that my work really is as horrible as the cruel anons say, that I’m no longer someone they want to support because I’m a disaster and a failure—that... really, really stung.

But as I’ve said before, I can’t blame anyone for leaving me after all this drama. It stinks. It sucks. I messed up. I try to be kind, respectful, considerate, but I’m not perfect, and there are gonna be mistakes along the way. 

So I want to encourage—but only if you’re comfortable doing so, of course—more feedback about how to be better. How could I make my content more appealing? How could I handle these situations in ways that are less awful? Could I improve my post-tagging system? My therapist is helping me, but I’d like to hear from all y’all, too. I want to know how to make stuff that people actually enjoy. Anon hate doesn’t exactly help me make better content, but actual constructive feedback will. That’s what I want to see.

But enough bellyaching. Here are some posts I’m prioritizing right now, and I’d like to know which one folks would want to see most:

✄ “ambiguous” thoughts

✄ Ryuko stronger in episode 14, North Kanto monkey versus Osaka monkey

✄ Episode 6 ending

✄ Ryuko and Senketsu interactions

✄ Ripping out heart

✄ Satsuki’s isolation

✄ Things About: Senketsu, Satsuki, Mako, Tsumugu (maybe more?)

✄ Ryuko’s IF story, episodes 5-8

✄ Ryuko’s IF story, episodes 9-10

✄ Anime Revolution info

It’s a lot, I know ^^; And that’s not even close to all of it. But where should I start? Don’t worry; I intend to finish everything here—especially because a lot of these are old, old requests!—but I’m easily overwhelmed, so an idea of where to begin would be really helpful for me!

tl;dr, I shouldn’t have posted that thing the other day, and maybe this long vomit dump about my intentions doesn’t even come close to making up for it. But I want folks to know that I appreciate their support and would love any feedback about how to better serve the community and live up to these kind messages.

Which, speaking of, here’s a transcript of them:

“As a survivor that's ace I think you're handling the ragyo situation excellently and I'm really enjoying your blog so thank you!”

“Sorry you’re dealing with backlash in regards to your opinions and headcanons on Ragyo, dear! While I can’t really say much on the matter, I think it’s fair that you’re being open with us on how you feel and that you’re entitled to your opinion. Does that mean people will agree with you? No, but that’s okay! Or at the very last, it should be...but people can get heated when certain topics come up and that’s when it Gets Messy”

“There’s no right way to fandom, people jumping in your ask to belittle you are jerks. Tbh the first time I watched Kill La Kill I didn’t consider ryuko and senketsu relationship as romantic but after finding your writing and on subsequent watches I totally see it and like that’s the whole point of fandom right? A group of people who love a thing for varying reasons, I don’t understand this need to be monolithic in fandom. Anyways I love your writing and totally understand your frustrations of late”

“Guys, come on. It’s a work of fiction. People are allowed to like whatever they want to like. You don’t like that? That’s fine! But please, leave Goop alone for stating her mind and expressing how she feels about it. She wouldn’t hark you for your opinion because she’s fully aware of how could make you feel. She’s done nothing but pout her heart out about a series she loves, it’s her passion. If someone did that to YOU, you wouldn’t like it, now would you? (1/2)

“I know it’s not going to magically change overnight and everyone will say their peace to feel validated, but I just feel so bad that you’re getting all of this over things that you’ve previously talked about and STILL have to defend yourself for. Your opinion is yours, Goop, and don’t let ANYONE try to challenge that! (2/2)”

“Please don't be so hard on yourself! I understand why it makes you upset when people send hate and stuff but you shouldn't feel the need to justify every single word you say. I just wanted to let you know that I always adored everything you write and I'm completely on your side in all of this. :) I hope you feel better soon!”

“I think your takes are very good; but more important than everyone agreeing w/ everyone elses readings, I think, is that you are a very good writer of analysis and it would be a shame for you to falter in that because of ppls reactions to your content. anyone who harasses you about having the 'wrong opinions' about fiction needs to learn how analysis of fiction functions & find a better outlet :) you are very talented, Goop, please follow your true north!”

“People get hung up on weird things, like you can disagree with someone and not devolve to personal attacks??? Anyways I enjoy your klk content! I look forward to more analysis of the game!”

“man, i dunno why so many anons gotta be such massive jackasses, you don't deserve it. hell, i don't even ship ryuketsu (I lean towards a more queerplatonic partnership interpretation, and im generally allergic to romantic shipping anyways) and i still deeply appreciate the thought and research and care you put into your meta.”

“ik you don't want asks about this but as a sexual assault survivor you are absolutely valid on how you feel about Ragyo. I skip the bath scene on every rewatch, and I find her atrocious. The fact that people are attacking you for this is dumb.”

“Hey man you’re allowed to talk about who you want on your blog. It’s your shit. People are so entitled nowadays and can’t let people have opinions anymore. You’re not dumb, you’re not trying to be offensive. And it hurts seeing how you’re trying to be courteous and step on eggshells and still getting dragged. Like people are allowed to disagree but there’s no need to be rude to someone trying not to be rude. You’re literally saying an opinion. Everyone else relax, my dude. You’re fine.”

“It’s amazing how all these people can recognize ragyos terrible behavior but insist on having to defend her….”

 “Just wanted to shout over all of this hate and say you have an amazing blog and you shouldn’t let this get you down. Keep doing what you’re doing because it’s legitimately awesome. Anyway that’s all I had to say. Keep being you.”

“Hey Goop. Just always remember that even if we're quieter, there will always be more people supporting you and loving you than people hating you. I really hope you don't let these anons destroy your health in a more permanent way. Keep up the good work!”

“Hello! Just wanted to say that I love your posts and analyses of klk so much! I love seeing how passionate you are about it (bc I am too) and I also ship Ryuketsu SUPER hard! I'm sorry if people are getting you down, but I hope you keep on doing your thing!”

trashcanalienist said: I agree with this so much

tolliver-j-mortaelwyver said: …don’t ever let someone else’s insecurities become part of you. 😉

official-raven-branwen reblogged this from marshmallowgoop and added:

Ya’ll got a problem with Goop, you can fuck outta here with that.

#Lookin at you anon

official-raven-branwen said: Why are people being mean to you??! Goop, please please please don’t ever think that your content isn’t wanted. If people are having an issue, that’s on them. They can fuck right off.

tolliver-j-mortaelwyver said: More Ryuketsu! Indeed!

kuribo4indahouse said: Kill la Kill needs you

csolarstorm said: Hey Goop, I sympathize. It’s never easy to share opinions about topics like this, because everyone has a different story, and they all want their story heard by others. I’ve found that you can’t accomodate everyone’s struggles - you can only speak for yourself. Keep on writing, I love Kill la Kill and Iook forward to reading your work.

official-raven-branwen said: You got this! 

kuribo4indahouse said: Don’t worry, and don’t count out the possibility of becoming bigger over time!

gaylo-thymos said: Hell yea, you’re doing your very best to be out there and that’s what matters. Keep bein you!

darthvandr said: Well regardless of recent events, you’re one of my favorite blogs and I’d be sad if you left. So you just keep on being you!

kuribo4indahouse said:

Who the fuck wrote that lol

Are those even real people writing those messages? Who would be this rude over a TV show?

And then they call you “butthurt”… Any self awareness?

official-raven-branwen replied to your post “You’re so butthurt about this Ragyou thing. Get over yourself. So…”

You are awesome Goop! Don’t listen to those asshat anons. You rock and those anons mean nothing. You keep being you because you are enough!

Not sure why you have such awful anons. You are an awesome person. Please know that you opinions on stuff that you (very obviously) love are perfectly valid, because they are your opinions, on your own freaking blog. And to that anon that sent you that message, listen dude, if you don’t like the content Goop puts out, there’s the unfollow button right there champ.

eldritchgentleman reblogged your photo and added:

Fuck the opinions of others and enjoy what you love! They don’t own you, listening to them doesn’t make you happy so screw them with a pineapple.

simon-newman​​ reblogged your photo and added:

Also Ryuko and Senketsu is a valid ship.

eric-coldfire reblogged your photo and added:

Absolute valid ship, op. Ignore the haters and keep being you.

kuribo4indahouse​​ reblogged your post and added:

Just laugh at these Goop.

badgerjaw​​ replied to your post “goops, you’re starting to stoop to the level of those that are bugging…”

I don’t think this anon knows what patronizing means, nor can they tell the difference between getting a big head and acknowledging the amount you do in this fandom. To each their own, nonny, cheers

badgerjaw replied to your post “You realize some of us don’t have Tumblr accounts, we’re coming over…”

At least the shirt in question can consent; wonder if these nonnies are gonna get on the people who abuse their non-sentient socks?

“I'm sorry. I don't always necessarily agree with the ideas, but I haven't been offended.”

“And I know you're like, you know, a reasonable, nice person. So even if you did say something that came off as offensive, I wouldn't be up in arms about it, you know?”

“Hey Goop, I know this is coming really late but here's what I wanted to say

“You didn't deserve any ounce of that anon hate.

“I'm just absolutely stunned. There was nothing wrong with what you posted. Not then, not now. Because all you were doing was expressing your OWN interpretations. You weren't trying to claim anything as set-in-stone fact

“And... I don't understand. I don't understand why people are SO angry that another person has an opinion they don't share. In the end, what are we talking about here? An anime...

“Don't get me wrong. The topics you discussed were indeed important to talk about, and fiction definitely does influence reality. But the fact of the matter is that, when it comes down to it, your posts were simply you sharing some headcanons about some characters from an anime

“And... when you look at the grand scheme of things, I really do think those anons are really quite pathetic. I mean. Consider what sort of person they have to be so get SO angry over a post like ‘Hey I think Ragyo might be ace’ and say ‘How can you be this STUPID Ragyo is OBVIOUSLY a lesbian and YOUR WHOLE BLOG IS A BAD TAKE’ like really?????

“Actually you didn't even say ‘Ragyo might be ace,’ it was more of a ‘I personally feel like Ragyo is ace’ and?? What's the issue with that?????/

“I'm sorry if I'm rambling but I'm so upset that you're upset cause of those anons and all the hate you got over NOTHING

“Also, don't discount the fact that there are indeed people out there who agree with you. I know you mentioned that you don't think anyone shares the same opinions on Ragyo as you do. But in all my years of following you, I've realized one thing

“You and I... have the same opinions on EVERYTHING????????

“But let me be clear. That's not why I support you. It doesn't matter if we have the same headcanons. 

“Even if I disagreed with everything you said, I'd still support you. Because it's not the headcanons that matter—it's how respectful you are and how you're always trying to better yourself. You always try SO SO SO hard to express yourself in a reasonable and kind way, and you are always trying to be mindful of your wording and considerate of other people's opinions

“It really upsets me to see you apologize so much to people who don't deserve an apology.”

“Hi, Goop. I want to thank you for everything you do on this blog. I started getting into your Kill la Kill content in around 2016. I even keep a copy of your meta book downloaded on my phone to reread every now and then. 

“I think what I like so much about your writing is how in-depth and supported and thoughtful it all is. Kill la Kill is so easy for people to write off as just a flashy, over the top, fanservice show. I think the biggest takeaway from the show is that it truly is a story about friendship and love, and I’m glad that you write so, so much about this. It always gets me all giddy and excited when I see you post something new or when you reblog your old stuff. I first watched the show in 2014, then I rewatched it two more times, knowing that I liked it, but not knowing exactly why. 

“Until I started reading your blog. It’s really thanks to you that Kill la Kill is now my unbeatable, number one favorite anime ever. 

“You put into words so eloquently what I’ve always felt towards Kill la Kill since I first watched it. I want you to know I really appreciate you. Please know you have my support, and I hope you keep doing what you love.”

“First off HAPPY BIRTHDAY~ 

“I just hope that anon finds something more fulfilling than spewing hate and nonsense. Like model trains, or magic tricks. I know my life got a lot more bright when I kept my nose out of people’s business and started focusing on the things I love to do.”

“I'm sorry that you have to deal with these trolls. :/ Some people just like to get a reaction. 

“*would talk more but feels that the conversation is past its expiration* 

“I respect you for expressing your opinion. Lord knows how illegal that is when insecure people get offended.”

“super late at night for me and I should be sleeping but I saw all your responses and how you tried to handle things and just felt really bad. You're in a situation that things just can't be solved with a simple logical response. Like I said sometimes people just have a view and when they disagree they just need to attack others who are part of that disagreement.”

kurouga replied to your post “[[MOR] I already knew people felt this way about me, but I guess…”

You don’t know if it needs you? At times like these I’d say the fandom doesn’t deserve you. It’s always mind-boggling – and yeah, saddening – to recognize how readily people forget how to be civil and begin to hold the meaning they see in fiction as more important than the feelings and experiences of others. Meanwhile you’re classy, humble, patient, and resilient enough to have retained these qualities where so many others… haven’t. Nothing short of inspiring.

I’d say it’s reflective of the cancerous state of fandom environments that it’s so much easier to win support with sweeping, neat and tidy divisiveness – that is, by resorting to discouraging, dismissing, or ridiculing differences in opinion – than it is to garner support as a thoughtful proponent of discussion.

Those who would argue “This fandom would be perfect if only those people who have other opinions/ships would just *stop* already” are those who would rather reign over a wasteland than accept that their views aren’t threatened/invalidated by the existence of differing views. And they almost certainly don’t appreciate the irony in that the perfect victory they envision is one in which what remains of the fandom is all cut from the same cloth. Never stop being you, goop.

“Hey uh saw that you're going through some brutal stuff with a anon. But I wanted you to know you're handling it like a champ and hopefully they'll get on with their life soon!”

“No problem I always look forward to getting notifications for your posts. It's kinda sad that you can't talk about opinions on here without someone getting upset but I hope that doesn't stop you from continuing!”

“You write a lot about things and you're sure to upset someone but at least you're being honest and always try to resolve disagreements realistically. I'm sorry that you're crying and all but I hope you do feel better soon! It's gonna be your birthday after all ✌️”

“I don’t know if I clicked the right button. Sorry. Anyway, I just wanted to say that I really, really respect your work and to thank you, because you bring so much happiness to life of me and my other friends. Keep up with your good work and continue to share love for Kill La Kill and for t h e m. *salutes*”

“hey! heard you'd been getting shit lately from people deliberately seeking to misunderstand the work you've put into the KLK fandom over the years (doubt you'd remember me but i'm still [blurred for privacy] on AO3). even though i don't use tumblr anymore on a regular basis, of all the people i met and knew, even tangentially, in this fandom, you've always stuck out to me as one of the loveliest and most dedicated fans and my favorite meta writer, period. please keep it up!”

korra-n-stuff​​ replied to your post “You realize some of us don’t have Tumblr accounts, we’re coming over…”

can these anons please go away? you’re wonderful goop, dont change. These people just has sticks in their asses

fromtheriverbanks​​ replied to your post “Guys, come on. It’s a work of fiction. People are allowed to like…”

I love your analysis. I tend to agree with the stuff about Ryuko and Senketsu and think it’s a big part of what makes the show beautiful. If there were PhDs in Kill la Kill, you would deserve one.

[cowplant-pizza]

Strangerville Review

first of all, thank you to ea for giving me early access to this game pack through the game changer program. all of these screenshots have been presented to you by the ea game changers.

Ratings:

CAS 9/10

Build/Buy 8/10

World 9/10

Gameplay 7/10

Story 6/10

Overall 7/10

So I really want to be as honest as I possibly can with you guys. Game changers get a lot of stick for licking EA’s asses but I don’t see the point in lying to you all and singing praises that I don’t agree with so just know that this review is my own words and honest thoughts. Lets begin

You can see both cas and build/buy items here. Credit to @wildlyminiaturesandwich for this!

CAS

I loved the CAS stuff, well, most of it. Everyone was so crazy about those dreads but I just wasn’t feeling them! I love dreads and basically always have my sims of colour donning them, but I felt like these just looked a bit weird? They fell awkwardly around the face and it looked like someone had used some hairspray to give it volume but really failed?? Idk, thats my opinion. I know a lot of people really love them so Im not gonna shit on that but I just felt they could’ve been made to look a bit more natural and a lot less stiff. Apart from that though, and the awful swatches on the cowboy boots and the low rise jeans, I seriously adored the aesthetic of the cas stuff. I loved all of the female stuff and the male tops were to die for. It’s a shame males got less stuff again, some more army inspired clothes or even tattoos could’ve been cool here but we need to remember that this is a game pack and not an expansion. For a game pack, we got quite a lot of stuff in cas. It’s definitely a western style with a cowboy theme, so if you’re not a fan of that, you wont like the cas stuff.

Build/Buy

I’m not a huge builder, but when I do build, I love vintage stuff and clutter! This pack definitely gave us both of these things. The debug menu is chock full of clutter that will be used in loads of different places. The only complaint I have is a) the style is very scify and probably wont be used in a home b) certain items in the debug menu that are to do with the story (ie. a hazmat suit) is just a parcel in build/buy mode. I get why that is but… it would’ve been cool to have the actual suit to place instead of a tiny parcel that the suit would never realistically fit in lmao

World

The world is beautiful. It gives me huge ts3 vibes. It looks like Willow Creek and Oasis Springs had a baby. My only complaints for the world is that you will get infected/possessed sims walking around and ruining the realism for you and also that most of my favorite parts of the world (downtown) are just deco.

Gameplay

The new gameplay is directly linked to the story but I decided to do them as two separate things because I enjoyed the gameplay actions more than the story itself. The new interactions were super cute but very limited and very repetitive. After you’ve done it once and had a giggle over it, it will probably get tiring to do it again… and again, which is what the story expects you to do. 

Story

To begin with, I was having a lot of fun with the story, until I hit a bug for whatever reason and I couldn’t obtain an item I needed to continue. A lovely game changer helped me and told me I could purchase the item from the debug list buuuuut that doesn’t really fix the issue in the first place does it. The fact that I had to cheat to carry on really just ruined it for me tbh. The start of the story was new and quirky and it felt super fresh. It didn’t feel like I was playing the sims, but a side game of the sims. However as I progressed, I was constantly reminded that I was playing the sims, as Johnny needed to eat and sleep and poop ect. So I ended up cheating there too and turning off his needs cause I just couldn’t manage both at once. Maybe that’s because I was rushing to finish the story for you guys, but it did definitely feel like you had to choose one or the other. I also decided to quit his job right at the beginning because already his days were so busy I had no clue how on earth I would finish in time if he had to go to work to. So after the bug, you had to start doing stuff and requesting items from people. And heres the catch: you had to be good friends with them. This was taking honestly forever so I had to cheat in order to get their friendship levels up. I don’t want to spoil anything sooo SPOILER ALERT DONT READ THIS IN THE BRACKETS [when you vaccinated a possessed sim and asked them to come and fight mother with you, you had to be good friends with them so they accepted. this was SUCH a drag because you needed 15 spores and 1 fruit to make a vaccine so if they said lol thanks 4 curing me but nah i aint gonna help you just wasted an entire vaccine. so i ended up just using mccc to cheat their friendships up to max so they couldn’t say no]. I know even now that I will not be replaying the story unless I have to to get rid of the possessed sims in the world. I LOVE the world and I really do hope there’s a way (or a future mod) to turn them off because they are really distracting from every day sim life. 

Overall

If you wanna buy this pack for the aesthetics and items I would highly encourage it. I personally think the items alone give us enough content to make it worth while. However, as I have said, I do slightly feel like the storyline is forced upon you where as I think it should be totally optional. Not all of us like stories whereas some people love them and I think whoever we are we should be able to opt in or out of a piece of gameplay that we purchase. If you wanna buy it for the story only, I would… eh… I dunno what I’d do. I wasn’t overwhelmed by it. It wasn’t shocking or creepy as advertised. But it certainly was a fun new type of gameplay that I am excited to see them use in the future maybe with some other ideas!

I hope this made sense, I just sort of word vomited all of this down! Hopefully some one will find this review helpful lol

[hopeishappinessff]

Holding Onto Hope: Chapter 33.2

Hope

Perhaps it wasn’t in my best interest to cry and drive through thick snow and ice, but I did it anyway because I had to get out of there. I told myself to slow down on the way to the car and just give myself time to cry my eyes out in there before I cranked it and drove away, but just the thought of being anywhere on the premises of this establishment left me with the urge to vomit. I didn’t and wouldn’t regret taking the treacherous journey to the institute alone to see him, because I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I hadn’t. It was Christmas day for crying out loud and the love of my life was locked away like some psychopath because of me… there was no way I could sit on my butt laughing it up and enjoying the glorious day while he suffered in there. What I couldn’t fathom though, was that I knew that the Christopher Brown that I spoke to today was not my Christopher Brown… he simply couldn’t be. I knew something wasn’t right the day I came to visit with everyone else, but today solidified it for me… that place was no place for him. Whatever they were doing behind the closed doors of that establishment was not beneficial for those patients and I refused to believe the behavior I’d witnessed by the man I’d known for half of my life was what they may consider normal.

The tears were slowly but surely beginning to subside, but the moment I reflexively dropped a hand down to my tiny knot of a belly they kicked back into high gear. The only reaction I’d managed to get from him during that entire visit only came the moment I blurted those two words to him… I’m pregnant… six weeks to be exact and slowly beginning to show for it. I had an excuse now with the cold weather and the constant need for oversized, thick sweaters but eventually the winter months would be over and I’d have to answer to the world why my belly was so bloated. I was nervous to tell my aunt and Ms. Joyce, but not as nervous as I was to tell him. I didn’t think he’d care, or even react or worse… I thought he’d blow up at me and become angry and irate. His world had been turned upside down in only a matter of weeks, all because of me, and Lord knows I didn’t want to add any additional stress to his life. But in a moment of haste and with only an ounce of confidence left, I just spat it out at him in the least appealing way possible.

With every day that passed, I could feel myself slowly but surely becoming more and more emotionally attached to my seed… my baby. The day that I found out in my dorm with Tawny and Destani at my side, I didn’t think I’d have a connection to it at all. I even feared that I would resent it. I hadn’t even considered the possibility until Tawny showed up with a pregnancy test and randomly blurted out the one question I never thought I’d have to answer to again… what if I was pregnant? It was only then that, for the first time, I allowed myself to fall victim to the horrid memories of the night I lost my baby in the most violent manner. I was more attached to that unborn child than I would ever care to admit and when Tawny presented me with that simple and harmless question, I fell apart at the seams. Unbeknownst to her, in that moment she forced me to relive my worst nightmare and I became a blubbering, emotional mess. In an instant I refused to believe that my constant morning and afternoon sickness, fatigue, and noticeably changing body and emotions were a direct result of pregnancy. But the box test she carried with her to the room spilled the truth for us all that day. And to reassure that the test was accurate, they both accompanied me to the student health center to actually seek a professional opinion. I found out that I was three weeks along then and for the first time in a while, I felt at peace and so very in love.

I wanted Chris to be a part of the process from start to finish. For a while, I’d always believed that he wanted this more than I. During the Thanksgiving break, he verbalized for the first time his interest in giving me a child. I didn’t want to believe my ears when he whispered the words to me over and over in the midst of our passion, but the moment I locked eyes with him and read the sincerity in those beautiful pools of honey… I knew that he was very serious. We were young and still had a lot of life to live, but if I was ever sure about anything else in my life… I was sure that this baby would be the best thing to ever happen to us. No one else had to share my excitement for what was to come in nine months, but I knew if my Charlie was right here by my side he’d be more ecstatic than I. My Charlie… my love… the father of my child… I gasped as a car horn honked obnoxiously behind me, snatching me away from my whirlwind of thoughts. In order to get home in the safest manner possible, I knew I had to temporarily halt my thoughts and though they raged in the back of my mind, I forced myself to stay vigilant for the sake of me and my growing belly.

Within an hour I was pulling into the driveway of my aunt’s house. As carefully as I could to avoid busting my butt on the driveway, I eased out of the driver’s side door and slowly made my way up to the front door.

“Sweetie,” The startling shrill of my aunt’s voice left me flinching with fear and nearly flying back off the porch steps, “Are you alright?”

Instinctively, my right hand went flying to my stomach as she quickly pulled me forward into a tight embrace.

“I’m fine Auntie.” I muttered with my face pressed unnecessarily against her chest. Almost as quickly as she tugged me forward, she pushed me back by my shoulders and stared directly into my eyes for a moment.

“How is he?” Her octave dropped noticeably then and she quickly glanced back over her shoulder as if someone were standing there listening in. I stared right back at her, thankful that she hadn’t noticed a trace of my tears, and in awe because it took her no time at all to piece together just where I’d been.

“He’s fine.” I mumbled, repeating exactly what he’d said to me when I asked how he was.

“Good. Baby I’m…” She paused for a moment then sighed and gave me a weak smile, “I’m sorry about all that’s going on. Things will get better soon…”

She didn’t know it now and probably never would, but I clung to her promising words… because it was the only reassurance that things would really be better soon. Stepping forward for one last quick embrace, I shut my eyes for a moment and focused only on her encouraging words to prevent myself from bursting into tears.

“I hope so Auntie.” Finally tugging me completely into the house and out of the elements, she shut and locked the door behind me then turned with the biggest grin on her face and whisked me into the den. The jovial commotion had me smiling instantly and my mouth flew open with excitement when both Desean and Destani’s little sister Imani jumped up from where they sat on the floor near the tree and nearly tackled me back out into the hall.

“Syyyyyyyyy, we missed you!” Desean beamed, with his little arms wrapped snuggly around my waist.

“Yeah Sy, you missed Santa. But we saved all your gifts for you… come on!” With each of my wrists wrapped firmly in their grasps, they worked together to drag me forward into the den where the commotion grew louder. I was thankful for all the obvious joy and happiness… it radiated all around the room as though it were contagious, and I couldn’t have been more thankful for it.

--

I managed to make it through more than half of the day without being questioned about my whereabouts earlier in the morning, and for that I was thankful. I hadn’t forgotten about Chris or the harsh reality that he was living in that horrid place, but the more I focused on the loved ones I was blessed to be surrounded with on this marvelous day, the easier it was for me to rid my mind of my own reality. I hated that he was stuck in there with no access to the outside world other than the occasional visit from one of us, but in order to make it through the remainder of the day I had to rid myself of all thoughts of the situation at hand.

From where I sat snuggled up in the corner of the love seat with a fluffy blanket tossed over my legs, I could hear the nonstop commotion from the kitchen of my aunt, Ms. Joyce, Ms. Cynthia, and Tootie all preparing our feast for the evening. It’d always been a tradition for everyone to meet up at my house on major holidays, for what reason I wasn’t sure, and this year was no exception. I was surrounded by unconditional love today with Destani and Tawny both of course right by my side and Nalay, Tameka, Dontay and BJ there as well. I hadn’t bothered to question Rashad’s whereabouts because in all honesty I didn’t care.

I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face as my eyes shifted from the boys who sat on the floor deeply engaged in a racing game with Imani and Desean. I didn’t know how serious they were about the game, but they sure put their all into it, with loud cheers and yelling and all. The kids seemed to feed off the excitement and they bounced around in their seats as if they were playing the greatest game known to man.

“They really taking this game to heart right now.” Tameka mumbled from the floor in front of me, shaking her head as she stared at the large flat screen mounted on the wall.

“For real. Like you would think there was wages on this game right now!” Destani chimed in from a lounge chair at my side. Giggling, I glanced down at Dontay and burst into full blown laughter at the somber expression on his face. He truly looked as though there wasn’t a single thing in the world that could take his focus off that screen.

“So, where’d you go this morning?” I knew the question would hit the fan soon and who better than Tawny with her infamous naivety to ask. Cutting my eyes over at her as she sat there happily with my legs tossed up over her lap, I released a slow sigh and quickly skimmed my eyes over the other three girls… who were of course already gazing right at me, awaiting my answer.

“I went to visit Chris.” I mumbled.

“To visit Chris… that nigga in jail?” Tameka asked, obnoxiously loud, earning a swift kick to the back of the head from Destani who sat directly behind her. Refraining from laughing in her face at the sudden scowl she wore, I peered briefly at the boys and the kids as they continued to focus solely on their game, and nearly rejoiced because they hadn’t heard any of what’d just been said. Breaking my gaze away from them, I turned back to the girls who were indeed still peering up at me curiously, waiting for a response.

It was now or never… “Why don’t we go upstairs for a minute?”

Without question or hesitation, they each quietly stood and trailed along behind me as I remained wrapped snuggly in my fuzzy blanket and padded softly along the hardwood floor to the stairs and up to my room. Thankfully the boys were too enthralled in their game to notice and all five of us were able to make a clean escape without any additional attention. By the time we’d reached my room and I shut the door behind us, I turned to face my audience to find that each of them had already gotten comfortable either on my bed, or on the floor around it.

With a giggle and a shake of my head, I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back against the door “Chris is in the Northern Virginia Mental Health Institute.”

Their stares pierced me like daggers, Tameka and Nalay both with eyes full of shock and Tawny and Destani with stares of surprise. In the most casual and collected manner, I revealed to my closest friends one of the darkest truths I’d ever had to face… the love of my life was in a mental institution.

“Wait… what?” Tameka chortled nervously, “Breezy’s in a mental institute?

With my head held high, I stared at her and nodded… because I had nothing to hide. They were my friends and a few of the closest people to me, so what was the use in hiding the truth or fabricating some lie?

“Sy’Diyah, what happened?” Nalay asked in a hushed tone. Laughing through my nose with the least amount of humor known to man, I shook my head and turned to face the window with blinds parted just enough to give me a clear visual of his old room.

“Everything…” As if I were in the middle of a dramatic scene of a soap opera, I remained transfixed by the window and I found myself leisurely gliding toward it, “Everything happened Nalay. He wasn’t well… I didn’t know just how sick he was, so I broke up with him… selfishly. I thought he was unfaithful… thought he just couldn’t keep it in his pants. So… I ended my relationship with him… and he tried to end his life.”

I could hear strident gasps behind me, but my focus never wavered from that window as I stood there staring across the way, imaging him climbing out of his window and out onto the branch to slither his way into my room. He did it so often that it became a tradition for us and I smiled at the thought.

“I don’t know how he didn’t die honestly... because apparently he ingested so much. But they wanted him here for the holiday’s, because this is where he told his therapist he wanted to go for Christmas… he wanted to spend it with Jaylen,” The mere mentioning of that beautiful little boy reminded me of my own little miracle and naturally, I dropped a hand down to my belly and softly caressed it to soothe myself before the tears came, “It’s really very hard to see the person that you love deteriorate before your eyes. Someone like Chris… so strong and protective, my Adonis… I don’t like to see him this way. But he is this way… because of me.”

“Sy’Diyah, stop it… you know this isn’t your fault…” Destani spoke up from somewhere on my bed, but I was already shaking my head before she could finish her thought.

“Yes it is Destani, and no one can tell me any different. If I would have loved him as hard as he loved me… been in his corner as much as he was in mine… paid more attention…” Choking up on my words, I wasn’t even surprised when the first tear rolled down my right cheek, “If I would have paid more attention Destani, he would be here with us right now.”

I could hear someone shuffling up behind me and soon I felt a hand wrap around my waist from behind “Sy’Diyah, I don’t know all that happened between you two but… I know that none of this is your fault.”

With a hand clasped over my mouth and the other pressed against my chest, I shut my eyes for a while refusing to allow these tears to continue to fall. All I’d been doing lately was crying. I was seriously beginning to pity myself and I was embarrassed by how weak I was sure I looked to others.

It was Nalay standing at my side, clutching onto my waist as though I’d crumble if she let go. She held me close to her and rested her head against my shoulder as I breathed slowly, praying that by the time I opened my eyes the tears would have subsided. As expected, they didn’t and I finally removed my hand from my mouth and reached up to wipe the sadness away. Today was Christmas… a day that should be filled with love, smiles, and genuine laughter… and here I was sobbing like a baby. My hormones were completely out of whack and I was steadily becoming annoyed with the lack of normalcy I had yet to experience with this pregnancy.

Sniffling quietly I turned in Nalay’s embrace and hugged her for a moment as she toyed with the messy curls atop my head.

“Chris is a fighter Sy. He’s a soldier and I know God wouldn’t give him this battle to fight if he didn’t think he could handle it. He’ll be okay… I know he will.” Her soothing words were all it took for me to take one final hard sniffle and pull away with the corners of my lips turned up into a smile… a real smile.

“Thank you Nay.” I whispered to her. We reached across to each other’s cheeks, her wiping up the remnants of my tears and me wiping away the straggling tears on hers.

“I have something else to tell you guys…” I said, looking from her glossy eyes to the girls on the other side of the room. Each of them held the most subdued and dejected expressions and I swore I even caught Tameka quickly swiping the back of her hand beneath her left eye.

My right hand rested comfortably against my slightly flat stomach and I glanced down at it lovingly “I’m pregnant.”

Before I could even raise my gaze to examine each of their expressions, I heard a wave of gasps sweep through the room and Nalay swept me right back into a tight hug and I soon felt numerous pairs of arms wrapping around me from behind. It felt amazing to share my news with them and receive such a positive response. All the tension that’d previously been suffocating us from the somber truth of Chris’s whereabouts went right out the window as they showered me with love. I truly felt as though I was basking right in the middle of cloud nine as they twirled me around and Tameka dropped to her knees in front of me. With her hands gripping my hips, she leaned forward with her head angled to the side and pressed the side of her face up against my belly.

“Meka what the hell are you doing?” Destani asked through a voice full of laughter.

“Shhhh, I think I can hear my nephew swishing around in there.” She whispered. The girls broke out into a fit of laughter and I tossed my head back as she continued to sit there softly caressing my stomach.

“Oh shut up, it’s not a boy… I think it’s twins!” Nalay beamed. My eyes shut, but that smile never left my face… I didn’t care if it was quadruplets. I’d have as many babies as my body would allow as long as they were all created from the love I shared with Chris.

“Hell yeah, it might be… I feel like Chris got some strong ass sperm that could put a couple babies in there at one time.” Destani said, causing a domino effect of even more laughter and happiness.

[adapted-batteries]

Fairies Gone Rogue

Fandoms: The Librarians, Dresden Files

Rating: Teen, mostly sfw

Relationship: Jassekiel

Word Count: 6981

A continuation of the Land Pirates AU. The LiTs have a new case in Chicago, but they aren’t the only ones trying to figure out what’s behind the random accidents.

Also posted on my Ao3.

-----

The clippings book fluttered its pages incessantly, trying to alert the team that a new case had arisen. There were people in the main room. Their willfully ignoring the book was the problem. Rather than waste time when they weren't going to listen, the clippings book settled and reached out into the Annex, locating the trio currently very...occupied...behind one of the bookcases.

It knew what they were doing, of course. The clippings book knew everything by being a communication device for the Library. It knew that humans did this from time to time, and the act meant (generally) that the people involved were emotionally bonded. For the team to work well, it was important...but not nearly important to do so at the frequency the Library had been witnessing, which any number larger than one per relationship within a couple months was more than Library could stand, considering they did not live here. The LiTs were very much above that limit, and rightly so, the Library was annoyed. If the Librarian and Guardian were here more often, they wouldn't be so frisky. Such was the sacrifice the Library had to endure to save the world from Dulaque and whatever else might go wrong in the meantime.

Since pages alone wouldn't work, the clippings book sifted through the nearby shelves in search of the heaviest book that wasn't in a delicate state. It then relocated that book physically to the floor near the trio at a much faster speed than it would've achieved by gravity alone, producing the desired boom. If the clippings book could smile, it would at the shock and startled faces on the LiTs. Satisfied it had their attention now, the clippings book went back to fluttering on its stand.

“That wasn't very nice,” Cassandra mumbled, looking around to see if any other books were going to bombard them while she straightened her blouse.

“Sounds like a new case,” Stone grumbled. He glanced in the direction of the still fluttering pages as he smoothed his hair back into a less wild state.

Ezekiel didn't bother with fixing his appearance, as he didn't intend to stop what they had been doing. “It can wait a little while longer.”

Cassandra seemed torn between siding with Ezekiel or the clippings book. “I think the Library wants us to look, considering it did throw a book at us.”

“All it did was stop our fun,” Ezekiel replied to Cassandra, then tilted his head up to the Annex in general. “Not cool, mate.”

“It’s not like we haven't done this already,” Stone started, getting increasingly more unsettled. “Though if the Library knew where to throw the book, that means it was watchin’...which means it probably watched all those other times…”

“It’s not recent news the Library keeps tabs on what goes on inside it,” Ezekiel retorted.

“Let's go look at the case,” Cassandra butted in, trying to get Stone off his train of thought so he wouldn't be freaked out the rest of the day, and hopefully keeping Ezekiel from being grumpy until they could finish what they had started. “We haven't had one for a few days, it'll be fun.”

The boys reluctantly followed her to the desk where the clippings book was still impatiently fluttering pages, settling when they finally neared. They read the various newspaper clippings silently, perplexed with the case.

“Various accidents in Chicago doesn’t seem very magical to me,” Ezekiel said, not trying very hard to hide his disinterest.

Stone seemed a little more intrigued. “That’s what you said last time about all the clocks in that town in North Carolina skipping time, when it turned out the town itself was doing the time skipping.”

Cassandra gave Ezekiel a rather annoyed look. “You do get that things in the clippings book are there because it’s magic somehow, right?”

“I know,” Ezekiel said with a sigh, “but it’s nothing dire, it can wait…” he tried to lean towards Stone, but got shoved away by said cowboy.

“This is our job, Jones, we can’t just do it only when we want,” Stone said. “Besides, I think the Library was trying to send us a message with that book.”

“What, that it doesn’t want us to be happy?” Ezekiel said, most of that sentence directed up towards the ceiling. He waited, but the Library was not going to satisfy him with responding.

“Well, we aren’t really starved for...it...we did just do it a couple days ago in that reading room,” Stone added.

“You can say ‘sex’ Stone, we’ve already been over this,” Ezekiel tutted. “And if that’s the case, why didn’t it stop us then? Or Last week?”

“Maybe it was how much we were, not that we were,” Stone said, face tinged red with realization.

Ezekiel didn’t care for rational and reasonable opinions the Library had about that. “I think the Library is just jealous it can’t love like we can.”

Stone blinked at Ezekiel a few times in confusion. “....What.”

While they argued, Cassandra had been rereading the clippings. “Hey, are you two done yet? Because I think I have a lead already.” The boys focused and looked to where Cassandra was pointing. “In most of these, the people mentioned seeing a small flash of silver light sometime before the accident occurred.”

“You think someone might’ve been casting spells on them?” Stone suggested.

“More than likely,” Cassandra said. She pointed to another clippings. “This one just happened today, that would be the best one to start at.”

“Truck carrying paints explodes in a neighborhood, coating everything in unicorn vomit. I don’t envy whoever’s cleaning that up,” Ezekiel said.

“There haven’t been any injuries, at least nothing above minor ones. Even that truck driver came out only covered in blue paint,” Stone pointed out.

“That is weird,” Cassandra said. “I don’t know of any spell that causes bad luck but with protection from serious injuries. Too bad Jenkins had to go visit Nessie, he would know what spell this was.”

“Guess it’s time for some investigating,” Stone said. The group looked at each other in agreement, then Ezekiel went about setting the door to Chicago.

The scene of the paint explosion was just as weirdly awe-inducing as it sounded. All colors one might see on a house exterior, along with brighter primary and secondary colors, splattered everything within thirty or so feet. The road and the cars parked on either side of it got most of the paint, but the closest houses also got impromptu paint jobs, complete with paint free spots in the shapes of the cars in front of them. Cassandra was thankful the breeze was behind them because the colors all around were enough to make her head hurt.

The street was not void of people either. Most stayed outside the paint mess, but easily spotted shoe prints occasionally entered and left homes. The carcass of the truck trailer, exploded from within, still sat in the epicenter, the sides and top metal walls peeled back somehow instead of breaking completely. A road work crew at the other end of the street looked like they were figuring out how to best clean the mess, but hadn't started yet.

“So, what should we look for?” Ezekiel asked.

“Any sigils or runes, magical objects, well, I don’t really know what to look for,” Cassandra replied.

Just then, a silver light the size of a basketball zoomed past them, zipping into an alleyway two buildings behind them. Stone pointed in that direction. “Does that count?”

“That definitely counts,” Ezekiel answered for her, starting down the street after it. Stone and Cassandra followed him half a second later. Like the professionals they were, they each stuck a head around the edge of the building, specifically in the order of Ezekiel on bottom, Cassandra in the middle, and Stone on top.

A man in a black duster knelt in front of a chalk circle, waving his hands while the silver light zipped around, stuck inside an invisible forcefield it seemed. He was saying something, but it was too low to hear.

Stone pulled the two below him back around the edge of the building. “That has to be the wizard causing the accidents,” he whispered.

“Okay, so what are we going to do?” Ezekiel asked, arms folded in front of him. “Just walk up to him and be like ‘excuse me, but can you please stop doing magic?’ Because that will totally work.”

“We have to subdue him. If he gets away now, he may cause another accident somewhere else,” Cassandra said. She looked to Stone. “You could handle him...right?”

“Theoretically, yeah, but I have no clue what magic he’s capable of,” Stone said with a shrug. “We can’t just charge at him.”

“No...but Cassandra and I could distract him, then you give him a good knock to the head,” Ezekiel said.

“Alright. Give me a couple minutes to get around the block to the other end of the alley, then do whatever distracting you want,” Stone decided. He gave each of them a tender look. “Please be careful, okay?”

“We’ll be fine, mate, it’s you who needs to be careful,” Ezekiel added, playfully ruffling Stone’s hair, but there was concern in his eyes. “You were the one laid up with a broken leg two weeks ago.”

Stone took Ezekiel’s hand out of his hair and held it with both hands. “I told ya, I’m fine, Jenkins cleared me after healin’ me all the way. I’ll watch myself.” He let go and started walking, turning sideways. “Two minutes, okay?” They nodded in acknowledgement, and once Stone disappeared around the corner, they commenced to crafting their spectacular plan.

Like the professional thieves they were, Cassandra and Ezekiel strode up the alleyway like they owned it. “Oi, mate, what are you doing there?” Ezekiel said once they’d gotten within ten feet.

The man startled, looking at them more confused than spooked. He scuffed the circle on the ground, freeing the silver light (which definitely looked like a little person with wings wearing garbage for armor). Both Ezekiel and Cassandra got distracted by it, which the man took advantage of.

“There’s nothing going on here, whoever you are. You can just go ahead and walk back the way you came,” the man started, picking up a staff that had been laying on the ground out of their sight.

“You’ve been making quite a mess,” Cassandra said, trying to ignore the man now standing at his full almost seven feet, with his equally tall staff carved with runes slightly glowing. She also kept her eyes from darting behind the man, where Stone had started creeping into the alley.

“That truck out there was nothing. Chicago’s seen a lot worse, trust me,” the man said, and then realized how he sounded. “Hold on, I didn’t mean-” He didn’t get a chance to clarify as Stone took him down, football defensive lineman style.

Even though Stone was a foot shorter than the man, he had enough muscle to turn the wizard into a rug for the alleyway, complete with a not great sounding “oof” from the man. The man had surprisingly quick reflexes despite the tackle, but instead of smacking Stone with his staff, Stone caught it and used the momentum to pull it out of his hands, then clocked him with it, relieving the man of consciousness temporarily.

Stone stood next to him, looking a bit like a hobbit with the staff. “Good thing Baird wanted to train with bo staffs last month.”

Ezekiel started searching the man for anything dangerous. While there were things he figured were probably magical, he didn’t find anything warranting taking. “So, what are we going to do with him?” he asked, standing up.

“We could take him back to the Library,” Cassandra suggested.

“Why would we want to do that? It doesn’t sound very smart to take a wizard to the largest store of magical items,” Stone countered.

“If we keep him away from the artifacts, we should be okay,” Cassandra said, looking at the staff in Stone’s hand. “He might not do magic without this staff, look at all the runes in it. And he didn’t cast anything at us either.”

“If I restrain him, he won’t be moving much,” Ezekiel added. He glanced down at the body. “We should hurry, before he wakes up and laughs at us still planning.”

Stone didn’t look thrilled, but handed Cassandra the staff and started lifting the man by the armpits. “You better quit runnin’ your mouth then and grab his feet.”

Ezekiel tried to look saucy while he grabbed jean clad ankles. “Why don’t you make me?”

“Boys, now is not the time,” Cassandra barked, scowling particularly at Ezekiel. “Let’s go, the door isn’t that far away from here.”

Surprisingly, the LiTs managed to move an unconscious tree of a man in broad daylight without problem. They decided to tie him up in a chair in the sparring room, and waited until he woke up.

---

Harry had not been having a great couple of days. Something was wrong with the fairies, and they were making a mess all over Chicago. The first couple of times he couldn’t even summon Toot, and just when he managed it, some punks came and knocked him out. Stuff like this can make a guy feel pretty useless.

He came to in a room that looked like it belonged in a gentleman’s club from a century ago, or more. The wood paneled walls and floor looked old, and real, along with the antique-looking exercise equipment next to a modern exercise bike. The other weapons in the room though, they looked like something that came out of a larper’s wet dream. Staffs (including his own) and swords and shields and other weapons he recognized but couldn’t name sat in various racks. Wherever he was practically reeked of magic, the air practically vibrating with it. More importantly, he was tied in a chair, and the three attackers were watching him.

They hadn’t gagged him; their loss. “Look, I think there’s been a misunderstanding-”

The one who put him on the ground in the alley cut him off. “You were doing magic right at the scene of the latest accident, there’s not much to misunderstand,” he said, folding his arms. Harry figured he had to be from somewhere south.

“Okay, yeah, I was doing magic. But I was trying to figure out why the accidents are happening, not cause them,” Harry countered. None of them looked like they believed him; considering the situation, that was fair. “Why did you take me anyway? Who are you people?”

“We’re the Librarians,” the redhead said. When she did, there was distinct magic in her words, not enough to charm him like it probably did an average person, but enough to make him curious.

“What kind of name is that? Are you some by-the-book wizard vigilantes?” Harry asked. Apparently his response confused them based on their inter-looking. “You really should find out who the other magically inclined people in the area are before you go incapacitating them, and trying to charm them, because if you had, you’d know that I’ve got Chicago covered.”

“Who are you then?” the Asian one with the unexpected Australian accent said.

“If you had looked in a phone book before you went all vigilante, you would know. Probably don’t even know what a phone book is,” Harry mumbled, that last bit aimed at the Asian one since he looked younger than the other two. They all just looked more confused at that. “The name’s Harry Dresden, wizard for hire.”

“And what exactly do you get hired for?” the Asian one said. Despite his youth, the kid had an air about him that said he’d been through some shit. In fact, the woman had a similar air to her too; it was the southern fighter who seemed less weathered somehow, more on edge having someone tied up in a chair in front of him. Harry concluded the Asian and the redhead had some sketchy black market experience.

“Well, I’m a P. I., so anything a P. I. might be good for, and then there’s the things a wizard P. I. would be good for,” Harry replied. He could see the fighter thinking up a question, so he beat him to it. “No, I don’t do jobs that involve cursing and hexing and such. I’m an honorable wizard.”

“Then why were you there in the alley?” the fighter asked.

“Like I told you before, I was trying to figure out why the accidents were happening in the first place. Well, I know why, probably…” Harry tapered off. There was no reason to tell these people anything, for all he knew, they were the ones causing the problems with the fairies. “Why were you sneaking up on me?”

The three glanced at each other, having some eye conversation Harry interpreted as a “do we trust him” and “maybe he can help” and “but what if he’s actually bad” type of eye conversation, with both of the men ultimately deferring to the redhead. She walked up to him, not close, but enough to change her presence from aloof in thought to leader of the bunch with a calculating eye. “We keep magical items out of the wrong hands,” she said.

“So you run the magical equivalent of that warehouse in Indiana Jones,” Harry concluded. Maybe the White Council needed one of those.

“...sure. Except it sits in its own pocket dimension and also contains a copy of every book ever written,” she added.

“That explains the name then, and why this place leaks magic like no one’s business,” Harry said. Something told him these people probably weren’t evil, but there wasn’t any way to confirm, except maybe Sight, but who knows what he’d see in here. He used his Sight anyway, because Harry was pretty good at ignoring risks, and he was just plain curious.

The lady, since she was nearest, was the first thing he saw, once he adjusted to the near pure magic running through the walls and floor like electrical wiring. The amount of magic surrounding her was like looking into the sun. Magic she hadn’t used though; maybe she didn’t know, or didn’t want to, who knows. A faint black blob near her head leaked black smoke, but the wild magic disturbed it. Whatever that was, she was fighting it as much as her will could. Underneath all the magic he could see her, almost identical but in a white dress, eyes pure white like the magic around her.

Next he looked at the Asian man, and he audibly gasped. On his head was a gleaming winged helmet. His skin shimmered with the same divine energy. He had to be a demigod. However, compared to the lady, the intensity of magic was like night and day, his magic only barely seeping through his pores. He had some scars on his arms and head which faded into his hair; they looked old and fairly well healed.

Finally he looked at the fighter. Glowing MMA gloves adorned his hands, and he also had a glittering chainmail shirt. There were bruises, faded, but still noticeable, on his face. While he lacked magic in or around him, there was a little person standing next to him, head reaching his waist. The spirit was watching Harry with a curious expression, but it didn’t do anything else. Before he switched his Sight off, Harry noticed the light pink line connecting each of them by the heart. He had a pretty good guess what that meant.

It took a moment for Harry to adjust to the relative darkness of the room. The three were looking at him like he just spaced out, which essentially he did. “You okay there?” the fighter asked.

“Oh, yeah, just had a little think,” Harry said. “Something tells me you won’t leave Chicago if I asked you to, so instead I’m gonna let you help me.” That got narrowed eyes from the redhead. “I have a good idea why the accidents have been happening,” Harry paused for dramatic effect, “but first, you need to untie me.”

“Sure, and I’m just gonna be purple now,” the demigod replied sarcastically.

Harry rolled his eyes. “If we’re gonna work together, we need to have some mutual trust, and me being tied up doesn’t exactly convey that.” No one moved to untie him, so he thought up another reason to make them less wary. “I don’t hurt people unless I have to. I have no reason to hurt you, and I’m the only one in this room who has a personal connection to the problem.”

After yet another eye conversation, the Asian one untied him. Harry rubbed his wrists, then itched his nose, and then got to a more relaxed position in the chair now that his ankles weren’t tied to the legs. “First off, you know my name, but I don’t know yours. I’d rather have something to call you.” There was a quick glance at each other, which Harry kept from being another eye conversation by saying, “I can’t do anything to you if I don’t know your whole name, so just don’t tell me all of it and you’re fine.”

The redhead tilted her head up. “Cassandra.”

The Asian flicked his wrist. “Ezekiel.”

The fighter tilted his head down, like he lifted an imaginary stetson. “Stone.”

Harry nodded at them. “Okay, so you probably saw that silver light, yeah? Well, that was Toot-Toot...he’s a dew-drop fairy. Normally they don’t do stuff like this, but something’s gotten the fairies even more rowdy than they usually are.”

“Do you have any idea what’s made them like this?” Cassandra asked.

“My guess is some sort of magical drug. I haven’t found any charm or magical signature anywhere, and Toot seemed drugged when he finally came to me summoning him,” Harry answered. “And if it is that, I can whip up a general nullification potion, but I don’t have enough to treat all the fairies in Za-Lord’s Guard.”

“Za-Lord’s Guard?” Stone asked.

“Oh, that’s what they call themselves. They call me Za-Lord because I pay them in pizza. They get information when I need it, and they make a formidable guard,” Harry explained. “With my own supplies, I probably only have enough for half the guard, and it’d take time to get ingredients again.”

“Well,” Cassandra started, glancing at the others behind her, “we do have a lab, which also has potion brewing equipment, and maybe the ingredients you need.”

Stone leaned towards Cassandra. “Jenkins ain’t gonna be happy to know we let a stranger into his lab.”

“What Jenkins doesn’t know doesn’t hurt him,” Cassandra replied. Stone didn’t seem content with that, but he didn’t argue. Cassandra turned to Harry and started walking past him. “Follow me.”

“Sure thing, but first, I'd like my staff back,” Harry said. Stone immediately looked uneasily at Cassandra, who then looked warily at Harry. He wasn't going to get his staff back. “Fine. I don't need it for potions, but I want someone to at least bring it so it doesn't get left here.”

“I'll get it,” Ezekiel said, grabbing the staff before Harry could stop him. Comically, it was a good foot taller than him. Not so comically, the runes started glowing faintly in his grasp. Ezekiel looked at the staff wide-eyed. “Uh, is it supposed to do that?”

“You might want to let someone else hold it,” Harry started, clearing his throat to hide his concern about what Ezekiel just managed.

Stone took the staff, watching Ezekiel for a moment, then glaring at Harry. “Why’d it light up like that?”

“I don’t actually know. You aren’t a wizard, are you?” Harry asked Ezekiel, who shook his head, confused. “Well, just don’t hold it again. Now, let's go make us a potion.”

---

Cassandra had never seen a potion quite like the one Harry made. She had watched Jenkins make a few, but they were all very plant or nature based. Harry’s potion was much more physical based, calling for things Cassandra previously thought not edible like body wash for touch, the sound of flowing water, and a piece of clean white cloth.

Harry assured her it would work. Even more surprising was the fact that Harry was able to find all he needed to to make a full batch in Jenkins’s lab. She made a mental note to ask Jenkins about different potion brewing methods when he returned.

“Okay, easy part done. Now to round up fifteen or so fairies off their balls on magical drugs,” Harry announced once he poured the potion into an empty milk jug and screwed on the cap.

“How do we round up fairies?” Ezekiel asked. “That one that zipped past us was pretty fast.”

“If I can summon Toot again, he can help find the rest, hopefully,” Harry said, taking the pot he had used to the nearby sink to wash it. “Our problem now is that Toot won’t be at the paint explosion anymore. In order to find him, we have to wait until they cause another accident somewhere.”

“Can we predict where they might be next?” Stone asked.

“There's no rhyme or reason to the accidents. It’s like they just fly around and cause a mess when they see potential for one,” Harry replied, scrubbing the pot with a soapy sponge.

“Are you sure there’s not a pattern?” Cassandra asked, thoughts already rolling. “I don’t know Chicago well enough to catch if the incidents we know about have a pattern.” She turned to Ezekiel, who was tapping at his phone already. “Could you map them and sort by date, earliest to latest?”

“On it, Red,” Ezekiel chimed, typing for a second more, then grabbing Stone by the arm. “We’ll have it up on the projector in five minutes or so.” The two left, leaving Cassandra alone with Harry.

Cassandra busied herself with organizing some of the supplies while Harry scrubbed away, even though he did a pretty good job of cleaning up already.

“So, how long you been a, uh, a librarian?” Harry asked.

“Eight months,” Cassandra said. “How long have you been a wizard?”

“Oh, I've had magical inclinations since I was ten, but it took years of training to be what I am now.” He looked thoughtfully at the pot, deciding it was well scrubbed, and started rinsing it. “How come I've never heard of this place?”

“It is a secret magical library for a reason, and it works best if it stays that way too,” Cassandra said, a bit of threat under the words.

“Understandable,” Harry said with a nod. “Though from what I've seen, regular people tend to explain away magic as much as they can.”

Cassandra thought for a moment. Maybe this wizard might have some outside knowledge towards the Library’s overarching problem. “Have you heard anything about a Dulaque?”

The question was enough to get Harry to glance over his shoulder at her. “You mean like Lancelot Dulaque?”

“That's the one,” Cassandra said quite unenthused.

Harry seemed pretty confused. “Well, he was alive at one point, a night to King Arthur in Camelot, but that was over a millennium ago. Why, should I have heard more recent news?”

“Well, he’s certainly still alive,” Cassandra said.

He didn’t seem all that shocked to hear that. “That's news to me. The one I thought may be around still is Merlin, but I didn't think the knights were ever immortal.” He sat the now rinsed pot on the drying rack next to the sink, then turned to face Cassandra. “Should I be concerned about him? Or any other people from that time?”

“He’s attempting to boost the ley lines, but he's not managed to do it yet,” Cassandra said, noting the way Harry looked at her with mild horror. “It was enough to make Morgan Le Fay head to the feywild anyway.”

“So she’s around too, sort of,” Harry mused. “Well at least the courts are more than strong enough to handle her there if things went south.” He scratched the scruff on his chin in thought. “I'll keep an eye and ear out for Dulaque. If he got what he wanted, my job would be a lot harder.”

“Is Chicago a big city for magic?” Cassandra asked. They hadn't really had any cases take them there since they started.

“It’s certainly got more going on than you'd think,” Harry replied, grabbing his staff which Stone had left propped against a cabinet. “I think it's been five minutes.”

Cassandra knew six minutes and twenty seconds had past, but didn't say it. “It probably has,” she said, grabbing the jug of potion. “Hopefully I'll be able to find a pattern so we aren't sitting around all day waiting.”

Harry glanced at her as they walked into the hallway. “Your friend isn't the one figuring it out? He seemed like he was.”

“Oh, Ezekiel can map them for me, but I can do better than his algorithms generally,” Cassandra said casually. She could feel Harry’s shocked stare, which made her smile a little.

---

Ezekiel had already mapped the incidents as they showed up in the clippings book, or more accurately, the app he made that connected to the Library did that for him. All Ezekiel had to do was send that data to the computer and turn on the projector. It took Stone more time to get the white screen set up in front of the back door, and they still had two of the five minutes left.

“I’ll go get them,” Stone said. He started back towards the lab since Cassandra and Harry hadn’t left yet, but Ezekiel caught him by the hip.

“Or, we could make use of the little time we have alone,” Ezekiel purred, pressing himself against Stone.

“Zeke, we can’t, we got a mission to do,” Stone explained, but he couldn’t help but tilt his head close to the thief’s.

“Come on, just a little kiss then,” Ezekiel suggested, his nose barely brushing against Stone’s.

Stone knew if they started, it was likely they weren’t gonna stop, but Ezekiel was oh so good at making Stone ignore the logical part of himself. “...Just one,” Stone said, and pressed his lips against Ezekiel’s.

As predicted, the one kiss turned into a bunch, which turned into Ezekiel pressed against the nearest wall. They didn't have long though; Harry cleared his throat loudly as he and Cassandra walked into the annex’s main room. Ezekiel let out a frustrated noise as Stone stepped out of his space. The archaeologist looked a little embarrassed at being caught, and Ezekiel looked downright annoyed they got interrupted.

Cassandra rolled her eyes at both of them, then walked towards the screen. She studied it for a moment, then flicked her hands in front of her, processing the information via visual hallucination. The boys watched her casually since it was a fairly regular occurrence, and she'd gotten better with keeping it from overwhelming her. Harry watched with confusion and mild concern.

“There’s been fourteen incidents in the span of five days….not concentric or spiral, but there’s something net like...Zeke put on the leyline overlay, as fine of a resolution as you can...oh yes, that’s it, they’re following branches off the main leylines,” Cassandra concluded, swiping away her calculations. “Which means, the nearest branch intersection from the paint truck should be somewhere near here, and they’ll probably do something within the next couple of hours, based off the intervals.” She pointed to an intersection of the glowing blue lines just north of downtown Chicago.

“How did you figure that? And how do you get technology to work in here?” Harry asked.

“Synesthete with a mix of photographic memory,” Cassandra said, though she paused to think about his second question. “Why would it not work?”

“All the wizards I know can fry a phone just by standing near it. How that projector hasn’t started bugging out with me here I have no clue,” Harry explained.

“Must be you mate. Internet here is superb quality,” Ezekiel said.

“So we know where, but what’s the plan?” Stone asked.

“Ideally, I’ll summon Toots, douse him with the potion, then from there we do that for the rest of the fairies,” Harry said. “Unless you have a better idea.”

Cassandra looked to Stone. “Jenkins would know if we had something...do you have any literary suggestions that could lead us in the right direction?”

“I can certainly try,” Stone said. He went over to the card catalogue and started pulling drawers, looking at cards, eventually accumulating three cards after about five minutes (Ezekiel’s pet project of turning the card catalogue digital was still a long way from finished). “I’ve got a reference for a text on fairies and other fae creatures, what looks like potentially a spell book with ways to summon a few things, and someone’s diary kept while in the feywild.”

Harry glanced to Cassandra. “Any chance I can get a library card here?”

She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, strict no-loan policy,” then turned to the group in general, “those books may have something useful.” She looked over to Ezekiel. “How well does the searching the digital artifact inventory work?” (That project was technically complete, but Ezekiel let Jenkins do item tags and warnings for a lot of it since Jenkins was in charge of the physical inventory logs, which makes searching for something like “magic fairy catcher” turn up nothing)

“If Jenkins is the one searching, it works fine...but for anyone else except maybe Flynn it’s kind of hit or miss,” Ezekiel confessed, pulling up the program on the computer. “I’ll try my best, but no promises.”

Twenty minutes later, the team actually turned up something useful. Turned out the Library had an artifact that did just what they needed; a living wooden bowl of sorts that, once filled with water, would attract any fairy in a couple mile radius. With that tool in hand, a bottle of water to fill it with, and the jug of potion the trio and Harry set off to Cassandra’s prediction for where the fairies would strike next.

Harry walked with determination, like one who wants to appear like they know where they're going when in fact they don't know where they're going, stopping in a more discrete alleyway away from prying eyes. Whipping out a piece of chalk, he made a five foot wide circle on the concrete. “Okay, so once the bowl does its job, I'll activate the circle, keeping me and the fairies contained, and douse them,” Harry said. “And hopefully it works.”

“What should we do if it doesn't?” Cassandra asked.

“If it doesn't, I'll be trapped with a pack of now angry fairies, which I will try my best to get away from by breaking the circle. But we’ll hope it doesn't come to that,” Harry said, throwing a charming smile at the end. He knelt down next to the bowl in the middle of the circle, holding the water bottle above it. “Here goes nothing.” Once the water filled the bowl, flowers sprouted from the rim, lavender, marigold, honeysuckle and snapdragons. The water itself shimmered like someone dumped in blue food luster dust.

Nothing happened for thirty seconds...or a minute….or even two, but once three minutes passed, a whole bunch of little silver lights zipped to the bowl. Thirty or so foot tall humanoid creatures with various vibrant colored puff balls of hair stood around the edge or lounged in the water, taking in the flowers and chittering amongst themselves. Once they were all within the bounds of the circle, Harry quickly knelt down and touched the chalk, creating an invisible magical wall around himself. A few of the fairies noticed, but most of them were too occupied with the bowl to care. With haste he grabbed the potion jug and thoroughly drenched the fairies, the force of it knocking them all to the ground.

For a moment, nothing happened, then slowly the fairies righted themselves, fluttering their wings to dry them. One in particular, with a mane of magenta colored hair and wearing bottle caps hooked together as a sort of chainmail shirt, sat up and then flew over to Harry.

“Heya Toot, feeling better?” Harry asked.

The little fairy bobbed in flight. “Za-Lord! I feel great! I can think again.” The fairy’s voice sounded like someone did a comical pitch shift up a couple octaves.

Harry frowned. “What happened to you all?”

“There was a Tylwyth Teg that gave us a sweet. They told us it would taste even better than pizza, and it did, but then I couldn’t stop doing things that made me laugh,” Toot explained. The little fairy bowed his head. “Did we do something bad?”

“Well, you were trying your best to make a mess of Chicago,” Harry said. “Nothing that can’t be fixed eventually.”

“Oh, good,” Toot said, flying in a loop in relief.

“Next time, don’t take drugs from fey you don’t know...or any at all.” Harry glanced to the other fairies. “Make sure the rest are themselves, then you’re free to go.”

“Aye!” Toot saluted, then zipped down to the fairies, talking to each one. It took about a minute for Toot to conduct the survey of his personnel before he reported back to Harry. “Everyone’s is back to normal.”

“Good.” Harry scuffed the chalk, dispelling the magic circle. The fairies all stayed, looking expectantly at Toot, who was looking expectantly at Harry. “Be more careful next time, okay?”

“No drugs from strangers, even if they taste better than pizza,” Toot said, and without another word, he zipped off, with the rest of the guard following him.

Harry picked up the wooden bowl, dumping out the water. The flowers fizzled out in a puff of ash, and then the bowl looked just like a plain wooden mixing bowl. “Well that went considerably better than I thought it would,” he said to the LiTs who just watched the whole thing.

“It’s normally more involved on our end too,” Cassandra said. “I feel like we didn’t do a whole lot to solve this case.”

“You did more than you think,” Harry said, handing her the bowl. “It would’ve taken me a couple weeks to have enough ingredients, and then I would have to probably treat them all individually since I didn’t have that fancy bowl. You made my job a whole lot easier...even if you did knock me out and kidnap me.”

Stone ducked his head a little. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“No hard feelings,” Harry replied. He reached into his duster, pulling out a business card. “If you’re ever back in Chicago and need some magical help, just give me a call.” He handed it to Cassandra.

“We don’t have a business card, but if you’re ever in Portland, just knock on Saint John’s bridge,” Ezekiel said. Stone gave him a bit of a concerned look, but Ezekiel waved it off. “I took it upon myself to revamp the security system when we first got there, it’s fine.”

With the job done, the four stood awkwardly in the alley for a few moments. “Is there a way I could get a lift to my place with your fancy teleporting door? It’s a bit of a walk from here.”

Cassandra smiled at him. “I think we can manage that.”

After a quick hop to another street corner five miles away, the LiTs were once again alone in the Annex. It only took twenty seconds of silence and a few looks before Ezekiel scooted closer to Cassandra, giving a tentative kiss, which she intently returned. It certainly took no time at all for Stone to get in on the action too.

If only the phone in the Annex hadn’t started ringing.

“Seriously?!” Ezekiel groaned as Cassandra reluctantly left his embrace to answer it.

“Hello? Hi Jenkins...sure, one back door coming right up.” Cassandra hung up the phone and set the backdoor to the coordinates Jenkins had written down before he left. Within a few seconds the door glowed, and the caretaker entered.

“I see everything is still in order,” Jenkins said, taking off his overcoat and putting it on the rack next to the door.

“We just finished a case too,” Cassandra added. Jenkins looked at the LiTs for more information.

“Fairies on sketchy fey drugs in Chicago,” Ezekiel said, standing quite close to Stone.

Jenkins raised his eyebrows. “Interesting. Did you recover any of the drugs?”

“No, but the fairies are sober now,” Stone answered.

“Unfortunate. I’ll keep an eye on that. Fey substances are nothing to mess around with,” Jenkins said as he walked over to his desk. He pulled out a rather thick looking book and turned pages until he got to the entry he wanted. Jenkins started to grab a nearby pen, but he noticed the LiTs loitering. “Do you need something?”

“Oh, uh, no, we’re fine,” Cassandra said. She glanced to the two with her, then looked back to Jenkins. “You know, I think we’ll head off for the day, since we did close a case. Unless you need us for something…”

It was easy to see the LiTs clearly had somewhere else they wanted to be. “Unless you want to write my entry for Nessie in the magical creatures log, I think I will be quite fine if you retire for the day.”

“Thanks Jenkins,” she said. She hurried up to Jenkins, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, then the LiTs made a hasty exit, finally ready to have some uninterrupted time to themselves.

-----

Post Notes: So, for those of you who haven’t read any of the Dresden Files, the character they meet is the protagonist from that series. He’s a wizard P. I. in Chicago, and basically Chicago’s de-facto defender from magical threats. For those that have read it, this is set sometime before Blood Rites for convenience of none of the events in Changes and later looming over Harry, and because I forgot to write in Mouse. For those who haven’t, I’ve explained the Sight and the potion he made in the next “chapter” on Ao3 because knowing how Sight works makes what Harry saw have a lot more meaning, and it’s a bit much to have in these notes.

[killiarious]

Killian Wears Someone Else’s Pants (2/?)

Lol this one is funny in my opinion but it slowly gets less funny, even I can’t make cults amusing! I know only like 3 people are reading this but I’m just gonna finish it as something fun! I’ve written about half of it so I’ll probably throw up the next chapter this afternoon.

All I could hear was whispering

“Do you actually think he’ll buy it?”

“Shhhh, he might hear you” An old lady hisses.

I fall back asleep.

When I wake up, dawn is approaching and sunlight is filtering in through the window. I look around and remember nothing.

“Peter dear! You’re awake!” An old lady bear tackles me.

Peter? Is that my name? That didn’t sound right…at all.

I reach into my thoughts and can’t find anything personal. Who the heck am I? Who the heck is this lady with her creepy hug, and why can’t I remember anything?

I groan, “My head,” I mumble. I feel like someone hit me with a rock or a compass? What?

“Don’t worry dear Peter, God will heal it soon.”

Did she really just say that? Does she hear herself talk? Oh my god she’s insane.

I look around at my surroundings; I’m sitting on a cot in what appears to be a small cabin. I’m wearing a white cotton shirt and some tan pants, everything about this just feels wrong on so many levels. This does not feel like my style. Oh my god…Peter?...Get you priorities straight.

She strokes my cheek. I feel like vomiting on her ugly shoes.

“Do you remember?” She bites her lip obviously trying to gage something. She seems like the shadiest lady to ever shady.

I shake my head and get even more shady vibes from her when she smiles creepily for a split second.

“Oh Peter, you jumped off a cliff in the name of the lord and he brought you back to us! It was glorious.”

Great, I’m freaking certifiably insane too, this is fan-bloody-tastic.

“I did what?” I stare at her and try to catch her in a lie, but my mind is fuzzy and my head hurts.

“You sacrificed yourself and you were rewarded by God.” Something about that sounds familiar.

She smiles at me and squeezes my left hand, it feels strange.

An old man storms into the cabin, “Rhonda, the people are getting restless, is he ready?”

Ready for what?

“Chester relax; they can wait five minutes for God to heal his headache.”

God these people have awful names. Chester? What kind of name is Chester?

“Peter, your people are waiting, are you ready?”

MY FREAKING PEOPLE? AM I READY FOR WHAT? I DON’T EVEN THINK THESE ARE MY PANTS.

“You’re our preacher, and the people of our church are waiting for you to come out, just say a few words. You’ll be fine.” Rhonda helps me up and hands me a bible.

And then she practically pushes me out the door.

I stumble out and almost fall in front of a large group of people staring at me. They start doing some weird hand gestures and I freeze.

We’re surrounded by so many trees, ugh trees.

What the heck is this? A tree church? Is that a thing? If it is, count me the hell out.

“Peter say something,” Rhonda hisses, what happened to the shady but at the very least pretending to be nice lady?

I hear people of the congregation whispering something along the lines of ‘he is risen’ so I steal that and use it as a jumping off point for the most unconvincing speech I have ever given in my entire life.

I don’t even remember anything and I know it’s the worst.

“Uhhh, I am risen. God has um shown me mercy and resurrected me…Woohoo…”

“Again!” Rhonda adds.

AGAIN? How many times have I jumped off a freaking cliff?

They burst into applause and cheer like that was the most eloquent thing they ever heard. Rhonda smirks at Chester. I wonder if they’re screwing each other…Oh wait Peter stop those awful thoughts you’re supposed to be pure or whatever the heck preachers are supposed to be. I haven’t a clue.

But anyway, I guess I was good at this considering they are clapping and stuff. I can’t believe they bought that two sentence speech. Everyone was looking at me like I am the one in charge, I am their leader.

Except for one boy in the back who had on a face of what the fresh hell is going on.

But honestly all teenagers have that face on, constantly, so I paid him no mind. Everyone else’s face said, yes, he is Peter, he has risen, so I believe them.

I am Peter.

Now I just needed to figure out why the heck I was at this tree church and how I was meant to lead it.

Damn I hope I get my memories back soon.

NEXT: Killian/Peter finds out how to run a cult tree church and finds out something shocking. (And Taylor learns what the hell people do in cults!)

Part (1)

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Tightrope Walking” - Part 4

“Tightrope Walking” - Part 4

(Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3)

My Masterlist - Here

Bruce Wayne x Reader - Romantic Relationship

Jim Gordon x Reader - Father/Daughter Relationship

Jerome Valeska x Reader - Past Friendship

Word Count: 1620

Key: Y/N = Your Name, L/N = Your Last Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Violence, cursing (the usual),

Summary: Jerome announces that he has you live on tv and then welcomes you to his lethal big top circus.

Author’s Note: This was kind of written quicker than the other parts. I really wanted to get the points across while also sticking kind of true to the storyline and adding my own stuff into it. I hope I did it justice. I honestly can’t wait to write the next parts and have you guys read it! It will be lengthier, so please bare with me! 

I do have an idea of writing the next part from Bruce’s point of view and then having the part after that be the one that is super intense. We’ll see if I run with that idea or not.

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces (All Works, Specific Fandoms, or Specific Multi-Parts), please let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

Tags: @cheyennethefangirl @theeactress @luciebell-writes @welcome-to-cobblepothell @aya-fay

You woke up and found yourself still handcuffed, but you were no longer in the GCPD. You didn’t know where you were, but it was some sort of warehouse or factory. Most of the lights were out or super dim. Looking around, you didn’t see Jerome. There was a chair in a spotlight to your right though. A man was tied to the chair with a multitude of explosives surrounding him. He noticed that you were awake.

“So you’re the one Jerome talked about. You’re sweetcheeks!” You cringed at that. Trying to shuffle further away from him, he started to laugh. He really was as crazy as the rest of Jerome’s followers. Just as you were about to stand up, a door on the other side of the room opened. Jerome stepped through with a large camera that had a Channel 9 logo on the side of it.

“Do I really have to tape your mouth shut too, Dwight? You’re freaking her out.”

You had a feeling you knew what he was going to do. It would be very unlike Jerome to not show off that he is alive. What better way to do it than with a literal bang.

There was no way out. No reason to even try. So you just waited for Jerome to finish his speech. He was going on about how death gave him a new perspective on life, how there were no rules in the darkness.

“So tonight, Gotham, do you want. Kill who you want.” He tried to continue his thought but had to fix himself. He turned away from the camera for a second, regaining his composure, then made eye contact with you. He pulled you off the ground and held you in front of the camera. You tried your hardest not to cry and be tough like how Jim taught you, but you ended up crying a bit. Everything was so much more overwhelming that anything that Jim could have prepared you for.

“Oh and to a certain favorite GCPD cop and a certain rich orphan, I certainly found a prize. If you want her, you gotta find me.” He pulled you close and kissed your cheek, causing you to flinch and cry a bit more. He let out a maniacal laugh before pulling out his lighter and finishing his speech.

“And when morning comes, you too shall be reborn!” You avoided the camera until you were being pulled away by Jerome.

He stopped in front of the man in the chair to give him one last remark. Something about his face. You were too lost in your thoughts to focus. Jim and Bruce are probably freaking out right now. I should have been more careful. What if I never seen them again? What is Jerome planning?

You were rushed into a car with Jerome speeding away from the building. You knew there was going to be an explosion, but you didn’t expect it to be that big! The lights of almost all of Gotham went out!

“Don’t worry, sweetcheeks! We’ll be in a better place soon.” He glanced at you for a moment and saw you shaking and trying not to cry anymore than you already did. You didn’t think it was possible, but he ended up driving faster until you reached your destination: a circus.

But this wasn’t like Haly’s. No. This was a new level of fucked up that you had never seen. Carnival games that were full of carnage and violence. Jerome seemed to thoroughly enjoy this set up. He was giving advice to some people playing the games as the two of you passed by. But he stopped at one area that sent shivers up your spine.

There was a businessman tied to a circular wooden board that also has balloons all over it. The man working this “game” handed Jerome 5 knives, to which Jerome laughed giddily and turned to you.

“(Y/N), you remember how good I was at this type of stuff? Watch this!” He turned back around and focused on the board.

He threw three knives and hit three balloons. But when he threw the fourth one, it landed right in the man’s left shoulder. The businessman cried out in pain, but Jerome found nothing but amusement. He threw the final knife and hit the man in the middle of his right thigh, earning another shout of pain from the man and another laugh from Jerome. He turned back to you and put his arm around your shoulder.

“Haly’s was never this fun! Well, it was, until you left.” You couldn’t tell if he was saddened by that memory or angry. You didn’t know if you necessarily wanted to know.

Jerome led you through the grounds and stopped at a dressing room area. He had you stand in the center of the room while he grabbed something off the rack that you never thought you’d see again: Your old costume. It was a shimmery black leotard with yellow accents. He held it up as if it was a prize at an auction, before laying it down on the chair next to the mirror.

“Now, I’m gonna undo your wrists, bit you have to promise not to run away. That would only end bad for you. Ya see, I have my men and women swarming this place. If you run, I give one shout and you join my mom on the other side. Capishe?”

A tear slid down your face as you realize how right he was. There was no way of getting out. You had to do what he said. So you nodded in agreement and he clapped his hands.

“Good!” He turned back to the costume rack and pulled a pair of leggings and shoes and put them next to the leotard. “Now get dressed. I’ll be back in 5.” As Jerome left, two female groupies came in to watch you and make sure you didn’t try anything funny.

You did as he said. You changed and tied your hair up into a ponytail. When he came back, he honestly looked at you in awe. His hand fell to his chest as he took you in.

“(Y/N). You look absolutely wonderful. But, there is something missing.” He had one if his girls do your makeup. You ended up looking like a mime. Jerome of course gave his opinion.

“Something isn’t right… Oh! I got it!” He then pulled out a knife and stabbed the girl who had been doing your makeup, right in the stomach. He then plunged his fingers into the gash and brought them out, covered in blood. He came towards you and you tried to move away, but he held you in place. He painted a smile extending from your lips using the blood. You felt like you were going to vomit.

“Much better. Don’t you think?” He looked at you in the mirror with a wide smile. You said nothing. “Well, too bad. Now get stretching. You go on in 15.” He was about to turn and walk away when you realized what he said. Your face was a mixture of confused and scared.

“What do you mean?” You asked. Jerome turned around all too quickly.

“She speaks! God how I’ve missed that voice! But yeah, you are performing tonight. I found and old tightrope and most of the set up. I want to show you off to everyone.”

You suddenly got nervous. You hadn’t performed for anyone since you left Haly’s all those years ago. Yes you had tested your balance every once in awhile, but you never thought of performing again. You were looking down at your outfit when you realized something Jerome had just said. Most of the set up.

“What do you mean ‘most of the set up’?” You were getting more and more fearful by the second. He put his hands on your shoulders in an attempt to calm you down, even though it did the opposite and caused you to stiffen up.

“Well, I found the rope, kind of a big deal. I also found a balancing pole. But we don’t have any of the cool juggling pieces or enough rope for you to jump between the two of them. Oh, and no net.”

Your eyes grew twice in size as you looked even more scared than you thought possible. Then Jerome leaned his head against yours and spoke again.

“Don’t worry though! I will be right under you the entire time along with at least 6 other strong men incase something happens. But I don’t think anything will. You are too amazing, (Y/N).”

And with that, he grabbed your hand and kissed it before turning and heading out of the dressing room. You leaned forward and grabbed your head in your hands, trying to steady your breathing.

What the fuck is happening? He can’t expect me to be as good as I used to be before I left Haly’s, can he? Oh my god, he really is crazy! Crazier than I thought! How the fuck am I gonna get out of here? Is there even a way out?

You knew the answer to your own question, but didn’t want to believe it. In order to get out alive, you had to go through with Jerome’s insane fantasies. You just hoped you could get out of those alive and in one piece.

There was a harsh knocking at the door that make you literally jump out of your thoughts. Before you could speak up, Jerome popped his head back in. He had his signature smile splayed across his face as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“10 minutes, sweetcheeks!”

Part 5 - Here

[cptsdgavino]

Hello everyone happy Mother’s Day weekend time to do the thing most of you follow me for and live up to my url, and write some terrible fahc Gavin centered hurt/comfort I guess! Warnings: child abuse, alcohol, ptsd, vomit, fahc violence (??)

 For their reputation, the fake ah crew is horribly domestic. Disgustingly domestic in fact. 

  Michael can name dozens of times he’s walked in on Gavin and Jeremy arguing over who could eat the most cheese-its in a minute, or Jack and Geoff cuddling and reading together on the couch, and there’s something to be said about the feeling he got seeing the Vagabond of all people washing their dishes. 

Michael, likes to have his most personal domestic conversations siting on the kitchen counter while someone messes around in the kitchen listening to him. 

“She thinks someone’s living in our attic” 

 Geoff stops, a few bottles of liquor teetering dangerously on top of one another in his hands, “what the fuck do you mean” 

 Michael shrugs, “it’s Lindsay! She thinks some homeless guy is just hangin out, eating beans in our attic!” 

 Geoff moves again, hiding the bottles behind some cleaning supplies under the sink, when he stands back up he looks at Michael, “We don’t have an attic” 

 “I know that! For whatever reason she doesn’t believe me!” 

 “She knows what’s above your room it’s a pool, there’s a pool on our roof and not a single room in between our penthouse and the pool. I would know.” He grabs a few more bottles 

 “What the fuck are you doing, Geoff?” Michael asks. 

 Geoff looks down at his hands and sighs, “It’s May.” 

“Oh…” Michael says quietly, hopping off the counter, “let me help you.” 

 “Hey Gav buddy, are you doing ok?” 

 Gavin jumps a little in his chair, “What? Yeah I’m fine I just gotta finish this then we can go out, okay?” 

 Michael looks at Ryan, and Ryan walks away from Gavin, a little defeated. 

“Where are you taking him?” Michael says softly to Ryan. 

 Ryan smiles, “We’re just going out to dinner, but you know him we’ll probably end up going dancing or robbing a bank or something.” 

 “Two very different activities” 

 “Anything to keep his mind off of it, you know?” Ryan sighs. 

 Michael lowers his voice, “Meg said she’s flying Dan over as a surprise in a few days,” Ryan smiles big, Michael continues, “as long as he doesn’t have an emergency he should be here day after.” 

 “Day after?” Ryan sighs again, “we have to get him through day of?” 

 “It’s not like we haven’t before, Ryan” Ryan shifts nervously, “I know, but I feel like we’re less prepared this year.” 

 Michael groans, “Don’t say that! You’ve jinxed it!” 

 “Fuck” 

 “Hey, what are you lads talking about and why wasn’t I invited?” Gavin pushes his way past Michael into Ryan’s arms. 

 Michael crosses his arms, “You weren’t invited cause you’re a prick and we didn’t want your opinion.” 

 Gavin smiles, and Michael let’s out a quick breath of relief, “Awwwww, Michael boi! Don’t be like that. You have to be nice to me it’s my birthday soon!” 

 “Yeah that’s the only reason we have to be nice to you,” Michael laughs and Ryan looks at him panicked. 

 But Gavin starts to laugh harder, gasps out a little “that’s fair, boi” and Michael smiles triumphantly at Ryan. 

 Ryan rolls his eyes and kisses Gavin quick, “Let’s go Gav, we have a busy night.” 

 “Bye boi!” Gavin calls as Ryan leads him out the door, “see you later!” 

 When the door clicks, Michael pulls out his phone and shoots a text to Ryan that says very simply “seriously don’t let him drink tonight I swear you jinxed it be careful” 

 Ryan texts back “I didn’t jinx it” 

Ryan jinxed it. 

 Despite all their efforts, despite Geoff and Jack’s years of practice, Saturday night rolled around and Gavin was nowhere to be found. 

 “It’s not even Mother’s Day yet we can’t be too worried” Jeremy says. 

 Jack turns to glare at him, “That’s not an excuse for you losing him”  

Jeremy puts his hands up, “I didn’t lose him if I didn’t know I was supposed to be watching him!” 

 Jack rolls her eyes at Jeremy and sits down next to Geoff, head in her hands. Geoff absentmindedly starts to rub circles on her back and if Michael wasn’t so worried he’d think it’s sickeningly adorable. 

 “You’re all supposed to be watching him that’s the rule, Jeremy. You’ve been here for like three years,” Meg sighs and leans into Michael’s arms. Even with the illusion of calm on her face he can feel her heartbeat racing. “I can’t believe you lost my suicidal boyfriend,” she says quietly. 

 “Not suicidal as far as we know,” Geoff says, “just massively triggered and probably dangerous to himself and others.” 

 “Great, Geoff” Michael says sarcastically, “real helpful” 

 Geoff glares at Michael, “I’m sorry would you prefer me to have a panic attack because my idiot son is probably drunk facedown in a ditch because his actual family decided it was a good idea to hit him? Cause I’ll do it.” 

 “Please don’t” Jack mutters. 

 “It’s only been an hour or so,” Jeremy says “he couldn’t have gone far” 

 “He didn’t,” Ryan says, walking into the room. 

 “Excuse me?” Geoff says. 

 “I found him,” Ryan says, “he’s just locked himself in the bathroom, why didn’t anyone check the house first?” 

 Meg pushes herself out of Michael’s arms, “You’re all fucking idiots,” she snaps, then runs to the kitchen to find something to open the door. 

 “I’ll talk to him,” Michael volunteers, Geoff nods and follows him out. 

 When they reach the bathroom door there isn’t really any sign Gavin’s even in there until Michael knocks quietly. 

 “Leave me alone, Ryan” Gavin’s little warble comes in response. 

 “Boi? it’s me,” Michael says gently “Can I come in?” 

 “Leave me alone, Michael” this time he’s louder, and very clearly slurring his words, Geoff sighs heavily. 

 “Come on, boi,” Michael says, “I’m not mad at you, I just want to make sure you’re ok?” Gavin groans in reply. 

 “Gav come on you know me, I’ll even lock the door behind me until you’re ready to come out, just you and me we’ll be in a little bubble? Okay?” 

 For what feels like years there’s no response, long enough for meg to show up with a lock pick, a crowbar, and teary face. Geoff just pulls her to the side and shushes her. Eventually there’s a small click from the doorknob and Michael looks surprised back at Geoff. Geoff, with his arm wrapped around Meg, nods at Michael and Michael nods back understandingly before slipping inside the dark bathroom and locking it behind him just like he promised. 

 As his eyes adjust he can see Gavin sort of come into view, laying curled up in the empty bathtub, bottles of liquor fallen on the floor and a few lined up on the rim of the bathtub. 

 Michael smiles at him, “Geoff didn’t do a good job hiding them this year did he” 

 Gavin, smiles up at him, Michael can see he’s been crying, and his heart breaks just a little. “It would help if he- bloody didn’t keep ‘em in the same spot each year wouldn’t it?” Gavin slurs. 

“Move over you fuckin alcoholic let me come cuddle” Michael says, squishing himself into the bathtub with Gavin. Gavin laughs a little bit as Michael gently elbows him, it’s a broken laugh, like he can’t bring himself to laugh completely. By the end of all the shuffling somehow Gavin’s on top of Michael, his head resting sort of on Michael’s shoulder, their hips pressed together, legs tangled. 

 “There,” Michael says, and Gavin lets his head fall against Michael’s. His breathing is shaky, Michael can feel it. The two of them just sit quietly together for a while, Gavin hiccuping quietly against Michael and Michael’s thumb absentmindedly rubbing comforting circles on Gavin’s bicep. 

 “M'sorry boi,” Gavin mutters quietly. 

 “Hey hey,” Michael says, and Gavin picks up his head to look at him better, “don’t say sorry, okay? You don’t need to, I get it” 

 “It’s every damn year” Gavin’s voice breaks. 

 Michael smiles, “Yeah that’s what holidays are” 

 “That’s not what I mean,” Gavin starts to tear up, starts wiping angerly at his eyes, “every year I feel like this every year I want to drink until I die and I scare you and Meg and Geoff and Jack and everyone! Every damn year!” 

 “It’s okay, Gavin” Michael whispers, masking the shake in his voice. 

 “It’s not,” he’s crying now, hot tears spill over his eyes and stream down his face,

 “It’s not okay, it’s not fair it’s not fair it’s not fair!” 

 Michael chokes back a sob, “I know, boi” 

 “I just-” he hiccups again, his entire body shakes, “she did this to me. My own fucking mother. And I’m supposed to be thankful?” 

 “You’re not-” Michael starts to say but Gavin cuts him off 

 “She hated me. I hear her scream at me still it’s in my head it’s always been I’m a worthless, stupid, lazy arsehole who will never be anything other than that. I’m a liar and disrespectful and that’s all I am and look at me it’s all I still am I made a damn living out of it!” Michael watches him cry, there’s nothing he can do now. 

 “She hit me for lying. It’s all I do now and I’m good at it because she would hit me whenever I got caught. Tell me I wouldn’t get hit if I just told her the truth, right? God forbid I do that and have her hit me for the truth.” 

 Michael moves his hand up to wipe some tears off of Gavin’s face. 

 “I’m supposed to be thankful. Every commercial every billboard ‘say thanks to your mother this mother’s day for taking care of your awful disgusting arse! Appreciate all she did for you!’ It’s a little overwhelming don’t you think? You know, considering she didn’t fucking love me.” 

 “Gavin-” Michael tries to comfort him, but his voice breaks. He’s crying too he realizes, it’s too hard not to. 

 “It’s all my fault too” Gavin sobs, “if I was just better if I didn’t lie if I just tried harder she’d love me… she would.” 

“Shut up,” Michael cries, gently holding Gavin’s face in his hand, “shut up you know that that’s not true” Gavin looks at him, shuts his eyes tight. “She doesn’t matter anymore Gavin, she’s not here. You have Jack and Geoff now and they’re not joking when they call you their kid, alright? They love you, no trying, no lying none of that involved, okay?” Michael takes in a shaky breath, “Besides this week isn’t even England’s Mother’s Day it’s America’s. You already missed yours.” This time Gavin doesn’t laugh, just lets his head fall into Michael’s shoulder, 

“It’s not fair” he says quietly 

 “It’s not,” Michael replies, “and you don’t have to be thankful for her, ever.” 

Gavin takes a shaky breath, “I want her dead” 

“Next time I’m in England, I promise” Michael smiles. 

They fall into silence, Gavin’s still crying. He cries quietly into Michael’s shoulder, hiccups occasionally and Michael squeezes him tighter with every jolt. 

Any time he gets louder Michael tells him it’s okay, kisses his head, let’s him cry as much as he needs. Michael’s arm is numb by the time Gavin calms down enough to talk again. 

 “Hey Michael boi?” He whispers.

 Michael kisses his dumb bleach blonde hair, “Yeah Gav?” 

 Gavin laughs weakly, “I’m gonna vom” 

 Michael laughs and sits him up in the tub, “Okay but probably not in here ok, come on let’s get you the four feet to the toilet!” 

Michael pushes as hard as he can to get out from under Gavin and out of the bathtub. He grabs Gavin’s arm and pulls him towards the other end of the small room, “Up up lets go I don’t want to be puked on!” 

 Gavin makes it to the toilet, empties his entire stomach, and when he’s all done he curls himself around Michael, hanging on to him like a little kid. Michael would hate it if it were any other situation; Gavin’s hot, smells like vomit and is practically vibrating he’s shaking so much. But Michael clings just as tight to his best friend as he clings to him. 

 Eventually Gavin stops shaking so much, his muscles relax, and Michael breathes a sigh of relief. 

 “Boi?” Michael whispers against Gavin, Gavin hums in response, “I’m gonna go give you to Geoff now ok? He’s a lot better at taking care of you than I am and I’m sure he’s really worried. Is that okay?” 

 Gavin nods into Michael’s shoulder, and he lifts them both up off the floor, legs wobbly. He leads Gavin out of the bathroom, his eyes are far away and he doesn’t look quite like himself anymore. 

Its dark in the hallway now, Meg and Geoff are sitting on the floor a little ways down, they practically jump up to greet Gavin. Meg reaches him first, wraps her arms around his torso and kisses every part of his face she can reach. Gavin smiles a little bit and leans away from Michael to hug her back, whispering he loves her. 

  When she lets go gently, she picks up Gavin’s bunny off the floor of the hallway and presses it into his arms. Like clockwork Gavin presses his face into his stuffed animal and lets out a sob, his legs wobble and Michael catches him. Michael leads Gavin past a teary eyed Meg, right into Geoff’s arms. Gavin basically falls into him, and Geoff holds him tight, already crying into his hair. 

  Michael backs up, grabs Meg’s hand. He watches as Geoff peppers kisses all along Gavin’s forehead and hair. Michael can see even from where he’s standing that Gavin melted into Geoff’s touch. Meg squeezes Michael’s hand and Michael looks at her. 

 “Thank you” she whispers. 

 “Course,” Michael whispers back, “he’s my boi, I love him.”

[believe-that-you-can-my-friend]

Summary: Five snapshots of Jughead’s and Betty’s life when Jughead had nowhere to stay and Betty was hiding him in her room. 

Read on AO3

(Okay, I know this is long; I know. But seriously I can’t help the fact that I want to fill entire books with how adorably cute those two are! <3 So grab your snacks and drinks and dive in hahaha! Also I’m sorry if there are any typos, it’s really late and I’m way tired to notice my mistakes. I hope you all like it guys!!!) 

Two days had passed since the night Betty Cooper had stormed inside the Blue & Gold office like a wild force of nature, catching Jughead on the act as well as learning about his secret of not having a place of his own anymore, and coexisting under the same roof was going smoothly for the two friends. Every morning they would wake up way earlier than most people in their town, and especially than Betty’s parents, and Jughead, although not being a morning person, would sneak out with a grateful smile plastered on his lips and hands full with every new snack Betty seemed to always prepare for him, and every night she would sneak him back in once she knew her parents were retired to their bedroom for the night. Their system seemed to be flawless.

Today was a low-key Wednesday night and the first time they had the house entirely to themselves, since the Coopers had yet another late night at the newspaper, the two teens finally enjoying some peace and quiet without closed doors and hush whispers. Betty was sprawled over the bed, text books and colorful markers all around her as the blonde girl was trying to finish her homework, elbow holding herself up and chin resting on her palm, head aching over an answer sheet and calves crossing and uncrossing behind her. Jughead was over the window with blinds shut – he had made Betty promise that his secret would stay between them – sitting comfortably on her white desk chair and having his long legs crossed at the ankles, outstretched against the wooden window frame, while typing furiously on his laptop that rested on his lap. Since no one was at home he didn’t have to lurk at his usual booth at Pop’s. Plus, he found Betty’s presence a very good remedy for writer’s block.

“What are your thoughts on artificial intelligence?” Betty wandered out loud, disturbing the casual silence, with eyes still glued on the paper in front of her.

Jughead’s running fingers came to a momentary halt and he blinked a couple of times to adjust his mind around her question. Not being fazed at all and going on with his typing, he answered. “I mean machines that probably are cleverer than half, if not the entire, human population? How will this affect humanity in the long run?” he voiced his opinion, his computer screen illuminating his frown.

“So I’m against it…” Betty muttered, putting the pencil she was holding in use.

“I’d use skeptical. Against is a very strong statement.” He offered back, rewriting an introductory sentence about Cheryl’s and Jason’s odd sibling bond.

“Hm.” She titled her head in thought and tapped the edge of her pencil a couple of times over the floral notebook next to her, while going over the sentence she just wrote. “Skeptical it is then.” The girl concluded and erased any sign of lead under that question with the back of her pencil. “Which chapter are you on?” she asked him, as she was conducting a small paragraph about her so called opinion.

“Just started six. Had inspiration these days.” Jughead let her know subtly.

“Cool.” Betty nodded to herself, moving to the next question. “Which changes society has to undertake in order to adjust to this new, robotic filled reality?” she went on to read out loud.

Without even stopping to breathe, he answered quickly. “Reforms of the civil law so to include robotic machines.”

Betty scribed that down quickly, her lips forming a reverse smile in genuine awe; she would have never thought of that.  “How is people’s approach to the subject? Are there any examples from literature and/or theater, cinema etc. that approach it?”

“Easy.” Jughead scoffed, so done with the lack of originality in teachers’ quizzes. “Terminator was pictured as fearful, Robocop was designed as a sign of hope; it seems that there is only black and white in people’s mind, not in between. As for how ethical this whole ‘humans playing God and creating super-creatures’ is? Well, Arthur Clarke shared that concern in Space Odyssey years ago but still there isn’t a satisfactory answer.” He concluded and Betty’s lips let a huff of admiration, struggling to keep up with his fast pace while quoting him on paper.

Satisfied, she looked at her finished science paper and grabbed her neon yellow folder to put it neatly inside.

“Am I done doing your homework?” came Jughead’s sarcastic comment, Betty rolling her eyes amused behind his back.

“Yes. And thank you.” She replied in a teasing tone.

“And anyway in what world is Betty Cooper unable to fill in some simple, let alone piece of cake for her, questions?” he went on, briefly taking his tired  eyes off the computer screen to look at her over his shoulder.

“I was bored and wanted to be done with it.” She flinched adorably, throwing her books recklessly to the floor and falling back to lie on her duvet.

“So you just used me?” Jughead turned his torso more to face her, narrowing his eyes in fake offence, their color shining with mischief.

Betty let a melodic laugh that put a smirk on his lips. “Pretty much, yeah.” She admitted with another round of laughter, once she saw him pretend to curse under his breath in fake self-pity, before she was left there just smiling, taking him all in with her doe eyes and taking a weird liking at the way he looked in a plain black t-shirt and dark blue sweatpants, one of the rarest times seeing him this homey and casual.

“It’s just that with everything that happened, Jason’s funeral, Archie, Ms. Grundy, my mom… my mind can’t really focus on homework, you know?” her eyes took their usual melancholic shade once again and she turned her stare away, feeling the need to pick on some loose threats of her jeans but knowing his eyes were hot and heavy on her profile.

“You have one mind and that is a crowd of people to think of.” Jughead sighed, wanting to ease some of her heartbreak, if possible. “Do you wanna talk about it?” he hesitantly asked.

Betty exhaled the rather large breath she was holding. “No, it doesn’t matter.” She turned to face him again, smile in tack. “It truly doesn’t.” she insisted with a vigorous shake of her head and smiled more, once seeing him unconvinced. “Everything’s in the past and I am really ready to move on.” She announced cheerfully, raising her slim, jean clad, legs to rest on the white headboard of her bed, sliding her arms over her head and stretching blissfully, like a cat enjoying the warm sunrays of June.

And even if he didn’t entirely believe her, Jughead knew there was a rich dose of truth in her words; she eventually was going to be perfectly ok. So he smiled that adorable boyish smile he always had reserved for her and her only, not really able to restrain himself when she was being that cute, with bright pink toe nails drumming against her floral wall.

“What’s so funny?” her voice made him avert his eyes from her legs and run them up to her body until they reached her face, silly smile on his and her lips.

“You.” He let with a chuckle and a shake of his head, putting his laptop as a shield in front of his face. He didn’t know why he was acting like a nervous spaz around her and he hated it with all his passion.

“I’m glad that you find me ridiculous.” She teased and took her tongue out at him, Jughead sending her an amused – slash flirty, but he wouldn’t dare admit that to himself – glare under his eyelashes over his laptop. “Honestly, those two days are probably the most I’ve seen you smiling all those years that we know each other.” Betty smirked, feeling a small flattering on her chest every time she saw the corners of his lips tug into even the smallest of grins.

Jughead knew that and he had a very good theory as to why this was happening but he wouldn’t say that out loud, and especially to her. So, he just smirked and started his typing again, offering one of his usual sardonic responses. “Oh, you know me, big fan of morbid murder scenes and intense people drama, which we have plenty nowadays.” He frowned teasingly and titled his head up to look at her, Betty’s eye roll in sync with her rolling off her bed.

“Ha-ha.” She let a dry laugh and got rid of her dusty pink cardigan, the loose silk white camisole she wore underneath complimenting nicely her shoulders and collarbones which didn’t go unnoticed by him. “I’m gonna make some snacks. I’m assuming you in?” she announced walking to the door.

“Please and thank you.” Jughead replied with a delightful groan, cause really at this point he was just a sucker for anything this girl made, and she laughed before disappearing down the hallway. Her cheerful hopes down the stairs and light humming of a foreign tune made Jughead smile against the letters of the document in front of him and he went on with his previous task. Living with Betty Cooper wasn’t so bad after all.

“Shh! We’re gonna get busted!” Betty whisper – shouted, with her hushed voice trembling from laughter as her finger came over her lips to signalize what she was saying.

“I can’t believe you vomited on your dad’s lap during family Christmas lunch!” Jughead was holding his stomach laughing his heart out at the picture but trying to be as quiet as possible, a five feet ten, all limbs, dark guy rolled up in two shaking from silent giggles like a cheerful toddler. “I’m not even mentioning the you being drunk part; that is a thing I deeply regret missing in my life.” A new series of laughter hit him with more force and a throaty chuckle escaped his lips, Betty’s eyes widening in fear and the blonde grabbed one of the numerous pillows from behind her head and smothered him with it, feeling the vibrations of his chuckles against her palms making her not able to hold back her giggles too at that unusual sight of him.

It was Friday night, way over midnight but they didn’t even bother with time, and the two of them were lying casually on Betty’s bed playing a game of twenty questions. It was all normal at first, with Jughead’s favorite girl sneaking him in her house once her parents were asleep and them starting their usual chat about their day which usually led to deep conversations until one of them was soundly asleep. Tonight, though, it seemed that both of them were in an awfully good mood.

“It was my first time drinking something even remotely close to alcohol and, seriously, how can you laugh at my misery? My grandma was appalled! And of course I don’t need to mention my mom’s reaction, you’ve met her.” Betty fell back into her pillows and focused her eyes on the ceiling, the events of last year’s Christmas day still vivid in her mind. “Kevin really owes me for this.” She promised in fake threat.

Jughead let a series of small coughs, unburying his face from under the pillow that smelled like her and focusing on the ceiling too, amused smile still on his lips. “Thank you, Bets, really. That was the best thing you’ve ever told me.” He coughed again and fixed his hair, or rather messed his raven locks more, and Betty turned to reply with a mean comeback but failed. It was one of the rarest times she was seeing him without his trademark beanie – in fact that was actually the first cause every other night he would take it off after each had been settled into their “beds” – and she had to admit he looked smocking without it too, if not more so.

“Ask away, I’ll handle it.” He scoffed amused, knowing it was her turn to fire a question, feeling her gaze on him in the dimly lit room before turning left over his pillow and coming face to face with her. He had left a safe distance between the two of them – mostly for his sake and his mental stability – but even that wasn’t enough to restrain him from getting lost into the most beautiful pair of blue eyes he had seen in his life.

Betty bit her lip – mostly because she wasn’t expecting his stare to be so intense over her – but asked anyway. “Why do you always wear that beanie?”

He lied; he couldn’t handle it. In the sea of questions she could have asked, the girl responsible for some of his recent sleepless nights went and asked this one. Jughead took a deep breath and focused his eyes on the pillow that now had fallen between them. Of course he would answer; he had learnt that keeping secrets from Betty was a rather difficult task, let alone lying.

“My mom had sewed that for me when I was five.” Jughead confessed and felt a lump forming in his throat but pushed it away, before putting a brave face and facing her again.

She just smiled sweetly at him, knowing that whatever happened with his parents was still really hard on him and hating herself for not noticing sooner. “Well, it does really suit you.” She nodded with a girly pout and ruffled his mop of hair lightly, Jughead bucking down from her touch and groaning a chuckle, grateful that she understood him and knew when to change the subject. “Your turn.” She instructed, rolling over to rest on her elbows, closing the distance between them by an inch.

“Well, well…” he sighed in thought “Okay, what are the things about me that you particularly like and what is the one thing you don’t like?” Jughead went kind of bold there but it was only fair after a question like that. Plus, her laugh as an answer to his challenging smirk was a delight to his ears.

“One? Only one? That’s an understatement there, my friend.” Betty started teasing him and he smacked her head lightly with the pillow, making her squeal and fire back a punch on his shoulder, Jughead delivering another pillow smack on her back before she knocked him off with a rather strong hit of her elbow against his ribs that made him leave a groan of pain, all while they were lowly giggling like happy fools.

“So I don’t like how stubborn you are and you have an ego as big as your head and you don’t ask for help and you’re secretive, awfully prideful, messy as hell—” Jughead let an offended ‘hey’ at that but Betty ignored him and continued listing things with the help of her fingers “you can drive anyone and especially me to the wall, you lose track of time—”

Jughead put his palm over her mouth to stop her, feeling her plump lips against his skin for the first time and indeed losing track of time and place at that very moment. “Do you even like me at all?” he used sarcasm as his chronic defense and with great difficulty removed his hand from her lips, leaving them parted and weirdly begging for more.

Betty collected herself quickly – Juggie was her friend, she shouldn’t even go there – and found her easy going, teasing self again, the one she always had around him. “Sometimes yeah.” She nodded with sass and he shook his head in amusement, rolling his eyes at how much spank she had in her and at how much he came to like that.

“In all honesty, though” she paused and adjusted herself on the bed, elbow resting on her pillow and head titling to rest on her palm, her golden locks falling over one side making Jughead fight back the urge to play with them “you are a pretty amazing person. And I’m really glad that I get to learn more about you every day.” She smiled genuinely at him and he did too, nodding once before resting a palm behind his head and turning his happy eyes to the ceiling, thinking that he definitely had it bad for the first time in his life.

“Sooo as a well-deserved payback for that…” Betty started and Jughead internally groaned “tell me, Jughead Jones the Third, who was your first kiss.” She gave him a challenging smirk, feeling a light blush starting to form on her cheeks but she wasn’t going to back out, she was curious to know – or that’s what she told herself – and she saw him closing his eyes and huff in exasperation, Betty taking pride at the fact that she was one of the very few people that brought Jughead out of his comfort zone. “And no” she continued in warning “I don’t mean silly kids’ stuff, I mean like a proper kiss.”

“Betty…” he whined through his teeth, eyes still closed and frown lines between his eyebrows deep, really not wanting to share something like that with her, first of all because it was embarrassing and second, well, it was really embarrassing.

“Are you blushing?” she squealed in surprise and full on fluffiness and it was indeed very true, Jughead could feel his skin starting to burn from the back of his neck slowly all the way to his cheeks. “Come on, it can’t be that bad!” she encouraged him with a light shake of his shoulder.

“It was awful.” He groaned like he was in pain and she shrieked a laugh, immediately a hand flying to her lips to cover the sound. “Okay, I need full disclosure here and you’re not allowed to laugh.” He pointed a warning finger in all seriousness and Betty smacked her lips shut, nodding and taking a breath to calm herself.

“Well, it wasn’t really my initiative, I was caught off guard…” Jughead flinched, remembering the dreadful event two summers ago that scared him for life.

“Wait, did somebody actually jump on you?” Betty’s voice went an octave higher in shock and amusement and full curiosity to learn more and he hesitated by nodded. “Shut up! Who was it?!” she begged for more, drumming her palms on his arm in anticipation.

“You’re taking this to the grave.” Jughead warned her once more, and she huffed at how ridiculous he was being. “It was… Ethel.” He chocked in a breath and flinched again, even more now.

“WHAT?! NOO!” Betty fell back against her pillow, a hand coming to cover her lips that opened in shock, feeling amused mostly but a part of her a tad jealous?

“It was awful” he repeated again and closed his eyes to shake away the images “face first, way too much tongue…” he made an expression of vomiting and Betty brought her duvet to her lips to muffle her now hysterical laughter at his face expressions. “I remember I stood there like a statue and when it was over I ran so fast, I arrived home with asthma!” he ended the story with a scoff, feeling second hand embarrassment for his younger self and wishing to somehow erase that entire day from his memories, the day he vowed not to kiss a girl ever again.

“Wow!” Betty lay there stunned, resting a palm on her chest and feeling her raging breath calming down. “That is some first kiss story.” She admitted teasingly.

“Oh please, I die of embarrassment every time I think of it.” Jughead scoffed, narrowing his icy eyes to the ceiling. “Thank God, she never mentioned it or tried anything like that again.” His eyes widened in fear.

“Well, on the bright side, not many guys seem to cause such reactions.” Betty offered half-teasingly, half-true because really she could picture girls going crazy at the sight of him. His bad boy, Judd Nelson vibe really did something to the female population, she thought, or maybe it was just her.

“Not helping.” Jughead replied sarcastically, turning to face her. “And since we are at it” his face suddenly lightened up, his self-pity long forgotten “how about you miss Cooper?”

“Oh no, no, no!” she refused with a vigorous shake of her head. “You don’t get to do that!”

“Says who? There are no such rules!” Jughead objected with a teasing smirk of his own. “Come on then what about your first kiss?” he didn’t really want to make her feel uncomfortable nor did he want to know all the gory details about how dreamy it was and how Archie was an amazing kisser – because seriously the two of them had been best friends since forever, he had to be her first kiss – but he was masochistically curious about it to say the truth.

“Well, my very first kiss—” Betty started and tried to bluff but he cut her off.

“You said so yourself, no silly kids’ stuff. Plus, I know.” He raised an eyebrow.

“You do?” she asked surprised; even she, herself, hardly remembered her first barely kiss.

“Reggie. Fourth grade. It was Archie’s birthday party at Pop’s and you were eating a sundae. He smacked his lips at yours and you spit a very generous mouthful of vanilla ice cream to his face.” Jughead told the story with a pleased smile and Betty’s lips fell open in surprise at how he still remembered all that. “Honestly, that was the highlight of that day.” And that was true because as heartbroken as ten year old Jughead felt seeing another boy, that boy being Reggie, kissing his crush, he felt the happiest kid alive upon seeing her reaction before skipping happily to him and Archie. “Now, I was very sharing with you. Plus, it can’t be worse than mine!”

“Fine!” Betty snapped in annoyance; she should have known that this was going to have a boomerang effect on her. “You’re taking this to the grave.” She repeated his words and Jughead rolled his eyes.

“Is it Sherriff Keller?” he boldly asked with his usual creepy - interrogating expression.

“What!? Ewww!” the blonde made a face of disgust, pushing him away by his shoulder.

He laughed. “I’m just messing with you.” He admitted and sent her a “spill” glare.

She rolled her eyes, annoyed. “It was Veronica.” She shrugged, not looking at him.

Jughead opened his mouth to say the answer he had already prepared but last minute his mind caught up with her words and registered that she indeed had said something entirely else than he thought she would say, making him close his mouth abruptly, open it again and close it again at a loss of words.

“Veronica? As in Veronica Lodge?” the words burst out of his mouth, the boy not actually believing his ears. “Veronica got here a couple of months ago and, like, she is a girl?” well, generally Jughead prided in him being a very open-minded person and, he truly was, but Betty Cooper kissing a girl was a little hard to grasp.

“Both statements are true.” Betty replied matter-of-factly, hesitantly raising her eyes to look at him, waiting for his reaction.

“Are you trying to tell me something, Bets?” Jughead narrowed his baby blues at her and titled his head lightly to the side, feeling his stomach drop a little in disappointment if that meant what he thought it meant. Whatever makes her happy, he truthfully thought at the end.

Betty flinched at the misunderstanding. “No! I didn’t mean it like that; I’m just saying what happened!”

“Wow!” it was his turn now to turn flabbergasted. “If I ask how it was, would it be total douche behavior?” he did really wanna know… for science, of course.

The girl next to him laughed. “It was not bad; Veronica certainly has moves.” She admitted with an appreciative nod, Jughead staring with his lips slightly parted as his mind was working around the new information. He truly would not be able to see B and V together with the same eyes ever again.

“Wow…” he muttered again under his breath.

Betty smacked his chest with the back of her palm. “Stop imagining it.” She laughed and he opened his mouth to say something but she bet him to it. “And no, you’re not allowed to include this in your novel.” He pouted and she grinned, shaking her head at his unexpected behavior.

His chuckle was interrupted by a yawn. “I think we humiliated ourselves enough for a night.”

Betty smiled at how adorable he was, trying to keep his eyes open but failing as they got heavier and heavier, the boy blinking a few times to fight his fatigue away but clearly it was a losing battle. “Yeah…Good night, Juggie.” She whispered but she wasn’t sure if he actually heard her, Betty moving as smoothly as possible to grab his blanket from the floor and cover them both, since they were lying over her floral duvet. She adjusted her pillow more under her head and sneaked her hands between her curly hair and her lavender pillowcase, taking a minute or two to stare at him through the darkness, all relaxed and without any of his usual walls around him as a shield from human interaction, just simple Jughead, clutching a pillow to his chest and letting even, soft breaths through his adorably parted lips.

And Betty felt a tugging at her chest, a tugging she had previously experienced a couple of times upon seeing Archie in the past, but that wasn’t the case with Jughead, it couldn’t be, she made herself believe so to not spend a sleepless night stirring and turning. The boy next to her moved subconsciously further down and closer to her, his head falling left so he was inches away from her face, and there was that smile again on her lips, that silly smile, as Betty moved a finger to brush away the deranged black waves that fell against his eyes before running it lightly over his jawline and making him hum in his sleep. Betty Cooper might indeed have had a sleepless night after all.

“Gotcha!” a cheerful Betty Cooper popped her head from the threshold of the kitchen, causing Jughead to do a sudden one-eighty, an almost empty bowl of food resting on his hand, fork in the air and hints of spaghetti spilling out of his mouth as his eyes were rounded in shock that he got caught.

“Juggie!” she scoffed a laugh. “You already had two overloaded plates of pasta carbonara and you’re still going? I thought you only did that with burgers at Pop’s.” she came in the room, resting a hip against the counter in front of him. “Plus, that was my dinner!”

The tall boy shrugged adorably, forming a sheepish smirk with his full mouth. “I guess I’m sorry?” he finally swallowed and Betty rolled her eyes. “And even though I could eat burgers for the rest of my life, no, my appetite includes any form of fine cuisine.” Or any of what the blonde girl next door prepared with her magic hands.

“It’s fine.” She waved a hand to brush it off, opening the fridge to peak through its contents. “I didn’t want it anyway; I’ll have a salad or something. Don’t want Cheryl over my head going on and on every day about how much of a size zero I’m not.” The girl used one of her signature grimaces, being fed up with the captain of the River Vixens but bottom line falling into the trap of embracing society’s standards about cheerleaders and girls in general, something that she felt guilty about.

Jughead’s eyebrows rose in disbelief at how much of a bitch Cheryl Blossom could actually be, saying those things about anyone and especially Betty who was stunning and totally model-material regarding her looks and body type in his humble opinion. “Screw that evil ginger!” he scoffed in his usual apathetic manner and slouched back on the counter. “You know what they say about gingers having no soul? Well, Cheryl bombshell is the epitome of that statement.” He went on in his clever tone and Betty couldn’t help but laugh.

“Uh, I might agree with you on that.” She offered her aloof response, closing the metallic door of the fridge with her hip. “So, what I came here for in the first place, I’m doing laundry. I gathered some of your shirts too but I don’t know if there’s something else you wanna throw in.” She exited the room and Jughead followed close behind her, down the narrow corridor next to the staircase and into the laundry room at the very back.

“You shouldn’t have, I’m fine.” He spoke somehow uneasily, not really used to that much of attention or being taken care of.

“There’s this thing called laundry machine and it actually does wash clothes by itself so don’t feel so entitled to return your gratitude to me.” Betty teased him and he snorted a laugh, doing that adorable nose flick that the girl across him came to love. “Take off that too.” She pointed to his jeans and busied herself with pulling out some detergents off a cupboard to her left, Jughead’s eyes growing wide in an instant. Did she actually want him to strip for her?

Betty’s ponytail swayed as she snapped her head to face him again, doe eyes looking clueless and way too innocent for her to mean something like that. “The shirt you have around your waist, Juggie.” he heard the words and his hands fisted the red flannel that fell on his sides, eyes blinking a couple of times to help his mind return to its previous zen state. “I’m washing colors; I should put this in too.”

“Yeah, uh, okay.” He quickly unfastened it and gave it to her, his palms sweaty from his short lived – thankfully – moment of awkwardness.

“Jug, there’re two buttons missing from this.” Betty’s candy cane voice turned even more sugary, finding kinda adorable his goofiness and the ‘so what?’ eyebrow he raised at her statement. She just shook her head and let a girly giggle. “Hold on, I’m going to fix this.” She disappeared off somewhere not before instructing him to unload the plastic basket next to his feet inside the washing machine.

He did so, of course, grabbing the basket by its handles in fear of coming into contact with any of Betty’s clothes or, worse, any of her underwear and throwing all the garments inside, thinking that if a couple of months ago somebody had told him that he would be living with Betty Cooper and doing laundry with her, he would seriously have considered him a lunatic. He went to leave the basket to its previous place on the floor but something red on top of his brown boots caught his attention and bended his knees to grab it. A totally bad idea considering that he regretted it the minute he understood what it was, because there he was Jughead Jones holding a red bra – a burgundy very lacey and very see-though bralet to be exact, not that Jughead knew any of the difference – that belonged to no other than the infamous blonde who even without her presence and her perfume could turn his mind into a worthless piece of musk.

Ever since that Friday night he accidentally had fallen asleep at the blonde’s side, Betty refused to let him get back to sleeping on the floor which led to them sharing a bed every night and having Jughead deal with, up to now, foreign for him mind and body reactions. Something that was happening at that very moment too, the boy literally feeling his raging blush coloring all of his face at the sight of the lace that was tangled around his slender fingers. He felt surprised, that Betty Cooper actually owned something like that, and possibly, maybe – honestly, he didn’t even know, he had never ever felt that before with anyone – a little turned on at the thought of seeing her with that thing on. Although it might have been a pain putting it on and taking it off, Jughead briefly thought, examining the almost invisible little clasps at the back in a typical clueless boyish fashion. God, stop thinking about taking things off!

But bottom line he was feeling so beyond ashamed that he suddenly had such thoughts for her, her that he knew all his life and she was such a precious sweetheart, or even worse, that he couldn’t seem to be able to take his eyes nor his hands from that red lace. Something had awakened in him, something he never knew he would experience as a person, as a man, but only from his author point of view and that scared the hell out of him.

“Jug…” Betty’s voice came and he jumped, hands trembling and letting the tiny garment fall down again, now even more ashamed that the person that made him feel so many new things was surely going to be disgusted by him and his primal tendencies. He wasn’t the definition of a gentleman but he prided to be way more mannered and thoughtful regarding women.

“I’m sorry” he started stuttering, bending down in reflex to gather the tiny undergarment and his dignity, Betty doing the same once watching with wide, ashamed eyes what was all about “I didn’t mean to pry on your—ouch!” their foreheads collided with a thud, Jughead’s head bouncing back with a flinch of pain and frustration at how much more of a fool he could make himself to be.

“It’s fine, don’t sweat it, it’s fine.” She kept on muttering like a rehearsed mantra under her breath, rubbing the spot on her forehead that certainly was starting to redden from the hit only to match the bright red blush that decorated her cheeks. She hadn’t put anything remotely private of hers in that basket on purpose, for exactly that reason, for not risking Jughead seeing anything he wasn’t supposed to see and her dying of utter humiliation right on the spot, because she wasn’t that attractive or sexy for that matter and she didn’t want to see another boy that she had maybe starting to like reject her again.  So she hid the damn thing inside the back pocket of her jeans and closed her arms insecurely around herself, not daring to look him in the eyes.

Jughead licked his lips to find the right words, upon seeing how defensive she got. “I wasn’t snooping through your stuff. It just dropped off the pile of clothes and I picked it up, I’m sorry, please don’t think anything bad about it.” He pleaded with sad blue eyes and Betty dropped hers to the ground, replying with a small voice.

“I’m not thinking anything of you…” she admitted truthfully, kicking the machine that separated them lightly with her heel of her converse just out of spite. “I’m just embarrassed that you saw…that.” Her grimace and full on doe eyes, had him smiling at how adorably cute she was.

“Well, my experience with girls might be limited to none but I’m not a Neanderthal, I do know that all of you wear such stuff.” Jughead used his self-sarcasm to make the situation lighter and cheer her up. “Plus I could have found something worse like pink razors or, God Forbid, tampons, just everyday things that gross out any macho guy that respects himself and his unsuppressed masculinity, right?” he went on in his typical sardonic manner, Betty cracking a smile and shaking her head at how actually amazing he was.

“Get out of here, you dork, and let me do laundry.” She pushed him out of the way, lovey-dovey smile intact while messing with some buttons on the washing machine panel.

“Yes, traditional gender roles!” Jughead threw his head back and groaned in fake delight before straightening up his back. “And like the man I am I’m gonna go out and hunt our food.” He announced like a bad caricature of a caveman.

“Are you really?” Betty played on amused, raising an eyebrow.

Jughead slouched back to his normal posture, resting an arm against the wooden threshold. “No, not really.” Betty chuckled loudly at his beaten expression. “But I’m going to buy you the most delicious, extra filled burger that I’ll find at Pop’s along with those Texas bacon cheese fries you like.” He said with a sweet smile that Betty returned biting her down lip because she was scared her face would break with how much she was smiling right now.

“And a milkshake?” she asked shyly with her look under her eyelashes that had him sold.

“And a milkshake.” Jughead nodded once, being at her service. “Vanilla as always?”

“Nah…” Betty shook her head and said in a sweet, almost flirty voice. “I’m up for some strawberry right now.”

Jughead smirked and winked, leaving Betty behind to deal with a slightly big problem of butterflies in her stomach.

“Alright, I’m taking a shower.” Betty announced from her vanity and Jughead nodded to nobody else but himself as he was scrolling through his phone, back resting on the headboard of her bed. It was Tuesday morning and the two teens were once again alone in the house, Betty’s parents leaving in the middle of the night for the newspaper since some shockingly news about Jason Blossom’s case had sprung to life.

The blonde damsel of Jughead’s stories moved quietly around the room gathering her stuff before she made her way to the bathroom and he finally made the decision to get out of bed and start getting ready for another specifically long day at Riverdale High, filled with gossip and hushed whispers. The atmosphere would be a tad heavy today, the larky boy thought, just like it was in this room since they had woken up, an air of awkwardness and teenage angst lingering between the otherwise drama-free duo.

Because today Jughead and Betty didn’t wake up like they always used to; wrapped in each of their covers and to their respective sides. They woke up all wrapped up with each other and in a tangled up mess of limbs, not knowing where he ended and where she began.

The blipping of his alarm along with the simple chime of her phone receiving a text, that being her mom informing her about hers and her dad’s whereabouts, were what brought the two friends away from dreamland two hours ago, both groggily cracking their eyes open and freaking out internally at the state they were in. Jughead was lying on his back with both his arms around Betty, slender fingers laced together on her waist over the cotton material of her grey t-shirt and Betty was practically on top of him, head resting on his chest, an arm being thrown over his stomach and fingers even lingering on the small patch of bare flesh on his hipbone that his rolled up t-shirt left uncovered, not to mention one of her miles long legs that was comfortably rested between his bony ones, delicious hitched over a part of him that Jughead didn’t quite know functioned before those days spent with her.

Their reaction was straight out of a comic book, both flying far back to either side of the bed and blushing scarlet without knowing what to do or say since they’d never been in a situation like this before. They behaved really maturely about it and decided not to exchange a single word all morning, their only communication being Betty informing him that her parents were gone and that she was going to take a shower just minutes ago, both ashamed to even look each other in the eye anymore, like if they did, a ticking grenade was going to explode between them.

Jughead sighed and kicked the covers off his legs, momentarily focusing on the space between them where Betty’s smooth leg was lying for God knows how many hours, the boy mentally slapping himself for envisioning again and again their up close and personal morning. He got out of bed grumpily and run a hand through his untamed waves, deciding that it was time to stop brooding over it, they just cuddled, it was nothing and obviously it meant nothing to her so end of story, everything was cool.

Seeing as Betty was going to take a couple more minutes in the shower, Jughead decided that it was high time he got dressed for the day, quickly taking off his t-shirt and getting rid of his sweatpants, after making sure the blinds were intact and Archie wasn’t getting a private show, but the abruptly crack of the door had him once again deep in humiliation for the second time this morning. Someone up there must have had great fun torturing him.

“My mom is here!” Betty Cooper stormed in the room like wild wind, hair disheveled and horrified expression shading her pretty features, Jughead’s heart starting to pound in his chest at the news but mostly at the fact that he was, well, naked in front of her.

“Betty! I’m not decent!” his shaky voice raised an octave and subconsciously his hands flew to cover his manhood over his boxers, at least thankful that his choice of underwear was plane grey and not his pizza print boxers that he loved but wasn’t exactly supposed to be seen by people. “And obviously you aren’t too.” His words slowly died on his lips once he noticed her full appearance, her pajama shirt still intact but the matching shorts nowhere to be found underneath it, just a long view of legs just for him. His eyes couldn’t help but scan her lower part, Jughead gulping once, twice even three times in difficulty at the sight of her tanned legs and he felt something stir where his hands still laid protectively.

“God! I’m sorry!” the blonde groaned flushing dark red again, doing an one-eighty to face the door and turn her back at him, not helping at all with the boy’s situation since her gorgeous behind was in full display for him, semi covered with her shirt and semi revealing a dark peppermint green lace peaking from under it. Jughead’s head snapped to the left in reflex, feeling a tad of guilt for seeing his long term friend like that and secretly loving it. His eyebrows rose and his lips formed a soundless “oh man”, cause really when did Betty stop being Betty, all-American sweet girl next door, and became that hot woman? All he remembered from their swims at Sweetwater River when they were kids was a chubby little girl with always the brightest choices of swimwear. Now all he could see was female curves that, damn, were a sight to look at for days.

“It’s that I was about to get in the shower but I heard mom’s car rounding the corner, the tires make a hissing sound so I recognize them, and I panicked, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to storm out on you and like that…” Betty kept rambling on, biting her lip nervously, because really today wasn’t the best day for them. Not that she was complaining that he saw him without his buggy dark clothes. It seemed that they did hide a lot of interesting things, Betty thought and blushed even more, biting her lip harder and filling thankful that he couldn’t see her face right now.  

The sound of footsteps jogging up the stairs interrupted any train of her thought, naughty or nice. Betty actually feared for their lives.

“She’s coming up!” she freaked out in a shrieking whisper, running to a terrified Jughead that desperately was trying to find a place to hide while gathering in panic the stuff he had thrown around. “Under the bed, under the bed!” Betty instructed, pushing on his bare shoulders, him easily slouching down and rolling into his hiding spot, the girl kicking with her foot his combat boots under the bed with him too and throwing his jeans with force against his bare chest, Jughead letting an “oomph” of surprise just as the bedroom door opened and an imposing Alice Cooper appeared.

“Mom, hey!” Betty greeted her way too cheerfully and even Jughead raised a disbelieving eyebrow in unison with her mother. “I-I thought you were at the paper.” She moved to the bed as if she was fixing her deranged covers, but only just to be within reaching distance in case her mom came over to inspect her room further, giving Jughead a view of her panties in all their glory, the raven haired boy dropping his jeans to his eyes and squinting them close, praying to God to blind him cause after this image he surely didn’t know if he could go on with his life.

“Yeah, I’m not staying. Just dropped by to take some papers your father forgot.” Alice informed her in her usual cold manner, frowning when noticing that her daughter’s focus wasn’t her but the floor next to her. “Are you alright?”

“Of course, yeah, I am, totally fine!” Betty babbled and Jughead could feel his life ending, one, because of all that he endured that fine morning and two because of the fact that Betty was a terrible liar. “Just getting ready for school.” She tried to sound aloof and grabbed a pair of jeans from her wardrobe, jumping lightly to slide them on her legs. He wasn’t going to admit it but Jughead did pout upon seeing them finally covered.

“Hm.” Alice hummed suspiciously. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it smelled like a boy in here.” He tried to catch her in her lie and the stray boy under the bedframe could have bet money that they were busted.

“B-boy?” Betty chocked on her breath and laughed uneasily. “Mom! Come on! How could I have a boy in my room without you noticing?” Betty scoffed like that was impossible, shaky fingers clumsily pushing up her window for fresh air to fill the room in reflex to her words and Alice seemed to back off, even though she wasn’t entirely sure about her daughter’s mental state.

“Alright.” She shrugged. “Since I am here, I’ll drive you to school.” She offered.

“Mom, no, I’ll walk—” Betty tried to object but her mother bet her to it.

“Betty, put a shirt and take your things. I’ll be in the car.” She left no room for further discussion and left the room, both her daughter and the boy she was hiding letting the breath they were holding.

Jughead popped from under the bed but the girl shushed him, twirling around like a mad woman not wanting to waste any time, because she knew her mom would be storming in her room again if she wasn’t downstairs in seconds.

“There are spare keys inside the second drawer of the dresser next to the front door.” Betty curled her sneakers and her bag to her chest while giving him hushed instructions. “Don’t forget to lock it behind you. I’ll see you at school.” She snatched her jacket and a shirt and walked quickly out of the room to get changed before Jughead heard her hop down the stairs and minutes later Alice Cooper’s car speeding down the road. And just like that he fell back on the floor contemplating life and thinking that getting involved with a girl in any sense was indeed very tiring.

It was an hour later that the Jones boy passed the wide entrance of Riverdale High with headphones intact and loud music blasting through his skull, blocking away the offensive whispering of the people around him about yet again Jason Blossom. He went straight to his locker and started rearranging some of his books, his eyes wandering around and catching a glimpse of her from across the corridor doing the same. As if she knew his baby blues were on her, Betty looked at him and she smiled apologetically to him, mouthing a sorry for the crazy morning they had. He just brushed it off with a shake of his head and gave her his usual smirk, not really managing to stop his eyes from wandering further down to take in her appearance. Amongst all the blue of her jeans and her sweater something plaid red was peaking from her collar and her waist and his eyebrows shot up in shock. On an onlooker it might look like she was spicing up her outfit with some color but to somebody that knew it would look so strange since Betty Cooper didn’t own even a single plaid shirt and that very one was something that Jughead Jones was sporting day after day.

He subtly pointed to his collar praying that he understood her signal but Betty just looked down at her in confusion before looking back up at him and shrugging in a silent “what?”. Some girls from her science class approached her and their eye conversation cut short, Jughead pushing his text books for first period in his bag and closing his locker, before sprinting to the blonde’s side.

Kevin was a tad faster than him. “Hey, Betty, cool shirt. Isn’t it Jughead’s?” he raised an eyebrow looking between the two of them, Betty’s crimson red blush appearing to her cheeks again, now coming to understand her gaffe. Somewhere between her morning humiliation and her hurry so for her mom not to suspect anything more she had ended up picking the wrong shirt, that shirt being Jughead’s.

“Yeah, she was cold so I lent it to her.” The other boy came to her rescue, nodding down at her with a cute side smirk, Betty agreeing with a vigorous shake of her head.

Thankfully the bell ringing didn’t leave any space for more conversation and the three friends started walking towards their chemistry class. And as Kevin was in front of them bubbling happily about his very first official date with Joaquin, Jughead, feeling rather bold after the events of that morning, placed a soft palm at the small of Betty’s back, leaning to whisper next to her hear. “You look good with my shirt on.” He complimented her and saw even her freckles turn a lovely shade of red before offering him her sweetest grin and whispering a shy thank you back. Yes, getting involved with a girl was tiring but in Betty’s case it was all worth it.

Where are you? Please just let me know you’re ok. I’m worried about you.

Betty’s trembling thumps typed quickly the message and she pressed ‘send’, the new blue bubble that appeared on her phone screen joining the three other unanswered ones that held a similar content. She waited two seconds and then threw her phone on the duvet next to her with venom, snapping her eyes shut and letting fresh tears run down her already soaked cheeks. She wasn’t crying because she had been yelled at for barely an hour by her dear mother nor because she was grounded for the rest of time.

She was crying because he left and because he probably wouldn’t want to speak to her ever again.

It had been the perfect afternoon. Betty had done amazing in her cheerleading practice, even earning a compliment for the very first time from Cheryl Blossom herself, and once practice was over, Jughead was there waiting out of the school gym, left leg bended by the knee and resting to the wall behind him while he was watching something on his phone, looking dangerously handsome in some black attire, insisting on buying her a triple extra sundae at Pop’s since he now had official employee discount, the old man finally offering the boy the job he desperately needed.

Today it was the first time they hugged. Betty couldn’t really help but jump in his arms with a happy squeal upon hearing the news, because she knew first-hand how hard everything was on him and because his happy smile was the best thing she’d seen in her life and the true highlight of her day. And of course she got to have that sinful sundae – with extra topping, as he requested – the two of them spending hours at Pop’s, just talking and laughing and enjoying each other’s company.  

Today was the first time they held hands; like proper hand holding not the usual brush of touch sometimes they happened to have. They were walking back to her house, their chat animated and still going strong, with Betty seeing Jughead for the first time being so optimistic and genuinely trouble-free and loving so much that side of him that wished for everything to come in his life the way he dreamed, because he deserved it, he of all of them. And just as she was busy thinking how happiness suited him and he looked even more handsome under the stars that night, she felt his long slim fingers dance around hers ever so lightly, before finding their place at the space between hers and locking there like they had clicked, like they were designed to fit perfectly with hers and hers only. Betty eased his nerves with a bright welcoming smile and a light squeeze of her palm against his and Jughead exhaled a nervous sigh through his smiley lips, glad that they were taking it one step at a time and she was following his pace.

And today was the day it all came crushing down between them as far as they reached the porch stairs of the Coopers’ residence, the two teens getting ambushed but a ready-to-kill Alice Cooper that turned their lovesick smiles into ice.

After that it was just a mess of screams and insults, Betty’s mom having found the backpack of Jughead’s belongings as she once again went snooping in the girl’s room, shouting at how disappointed she was at Betty and her tendencies of always getting involved with the wrong crowd, addressing Jughead with words like stray and lowlife and delinquent, him just standing there and looking at the ground and Betty crying and screaming back how she hated her and how much of a awful mother she was being. And mist the fire of it all, the raven haired boy that never seemed to have a chance to happiness, had pushed his backpack up his shoulder and walked away, doing what he knew best; disappear.

Hours had passed since then and not a single text of hers about his wellbeing was answered, Betty being locked up in her room and crying her pretty eyes out for the boy that made her heart meant and beat again, even faster than ever before. She had never cried for anything or anyone that much in the past, not even for Archie, having that sinking feeling inside her chest, that burden that left her there breathing with difficulty and sobbing hard with trembles of sorrow running down her spine.

Didn’t find him anywhere. You want me to tell my dad? Her phone chimed and she rushed to read the text, momentarily hopping that it was from him and he was ok, but it was just from Kevin, the poor boy offering to go out looking for Jughead once Betty had called him with hiccups interrupting her sobbing words, asking for his help.

She was about to text him back to do so because at that point she was really worried but her blurry eyes were making this a difficult task, the blonde beauty swiping a hand violently under her eye and trying to gain some control of her messy state. Her mind was spinning with all the possible scenarios, with mostly bad to worse popping up first, and she was so caught up in her thoughts that didn’t even hear her window being opened behind her and the boy she wished to see more than anything else right now climbing inside her room.  

“Is there any room for me?” Betty heard his voice, soft and soothing, and her reflexes where never that quick before in her life, turning around on her bed and gasping a loud relieved sigh that he was there and well before storming in his arms.

“Juggie…” she sobbed against the hard material of his denim jacket, her whole body shaking from the force of her cries and Jughead shushing her and holding her tight.

“Hey, hey, please don’t cry for me…Bets, please, it’s okay…” he kept saying and trying to offer her some comfort, alternating his hands from running up and down her sides and his arms from wrapping securely around her.

“I was so worried about you, I thought something bad happened.” She pulled back to look at him, placing both her palms on his face and examining him closely.

He did the same, taking in her way too puffy eyes, their breathtaking color a tad less bright, and her flushed cheeks, his heart breaking a little at the sight of her, knowing that he was to blame. “I’m fine. I told you I know how to take care of myself.” he assured her, bringing his thump to brush away some tears that still lingered under her eyes.

“I’m so sorry about my mom…” Betty started in a low ashamed voice, knowing that everything her mother had said was out of line and unfair to him. “What she said—”

Jughead cut her off. “Alice Cooper has called me a sleaze at the age of ten; the time I cared about her opinion is long gone.” He replied with a shrug. “No offence.” She just shook her head at his way of still not wanting to insult her or her awful of a mother. “I didn’t leave for what she said to me, I left for you. It’s not fair for you to go through any of this trouble for me.” He confessed with sadness in his eyes, feeling awful that she had to go through hell just because he happened to be in her life.

“And it’s not fair for you to deal with everything on your own.” Betty insisted with such intensity in her eyes that left him with zero comebacks. “Where are your things?” she wondered, looking down around him and taking a step back, the two teens getting untangled from each other. “Don’t tell me you went back to the Blue & Gold.”

Jughead shook his head no, burying his hands inside the pocket of his jeans. “I talked to Archie…” he started and saw the girl across him raise her eyes at that. “That’s why I wasn’t replying to your messages, I’m sorry…” he felt really guilty at that, guilty that made her worry so much for him. “Told him everything, how I lost my home, staying here, what happened with your mom… He was bumped that I didn’t go to him from the beginning but we did that bro thing which we give each other a clean slate and start back again.” He let a small chuckle at this but composed himself immediately, regarding the situation.

Betty smiled, even though she knew this meant he was going to leave her behind just like that. “I’m glad you patched things up with him.” She was, really.

He nodded. “Fred said that I can take their spare bedroom for the time being and Archie and I are planning to rebuild their garage; make it my bedroom and a joined man cave.”

It was Betty’s time to nod, pretending to be ok with all that, but her eyes betrayed her as the waterfalls threatened to spill from them again, the girl looking away and biting her lip to hold back another round of stupid tears.

“Hey, hey, hey…” Jughead rushed to her and enveloped her in his arms again, leaving a butterfly kiss on her temple. “What are you crying for now, huh? I’m here, I’m well and you’ll still gonna see my stupid face every day from some meters away.” He tried to lighten the mood and cheer her up, pulling back to look down at her with a loving smile, his hands dropping to her waist and fingers playing with the hem of the blue and yellow blouse of her cheerleader uniform, Betty still haven’t been bothered to change with all the events that happened tonight. Jughead liked her in that uniform; the tiny skirt was leaving her legs uncovered and he had come to realize that he had a soft spot for them as much as her eyes.

“It’s just” she took a deep breath and brushed her palms over her eyes stubbornly; she was so sick of crying “I liked having you here, you know?” she admitted and Jughead rewarded her with his boyish smirk which immediately pull something in her heart. “Ever since Polly…left” she chose carefully the word “this house had been so damn silent!” her voice broke at that and Jughead frowned in sympathy; he knew that feeling very well. “Those days that you’ve been here, they reminded me of the ones I got to spend with her and it made me feel so much less alone.” Betty sobbed the last part and some mascara filled tears run down her cheeks, making Jughead hold her close again, leaning back to rest against the small wooden bench of her window, letting her water his jacket with salty tears and just rubbing her back, offering hushed promises that everything was going to be ok.

They didn’t know how much time they stayed like that, just holding each other and Betty spilling everything that’s being pilling up inside her, but eventually her cries died and the only sound around them was their even breaths and the crickets chirping away in the night sky.

“Thank you for making me feel less alone.” Betty raised her head from his shoulder to look at him.

“Thank you for making me feel that I wasn’t invisible.” He mused back and caressed her cheek, his thump drawing patterns against her faint freckles, and he saw her eyes shine again, shine with something else that he hadn’t seen before, something so intense that even authors can’t find the right words to describe it.

Jughead heard her take in a sharp breath and it was as if she had commanded him to lean closer, their faces inches away from each other, noses almost bopping. Her long eyelashes fanned against his face, her eyes blinking rapidly in what seemed like anticipation and he felt her melt against him once he titled his head slightly to the side. The raven haired boy felt at a loss, like he didn’t have any control of his mind and body, like everything was on autopilot on his part, not really sure what to do or how to do it but going with his gut and placing his other hand on her waist, making her jump up straight and sigh against his chapped lips. The action caused him to drop his eyes to her own lips, full, pink and always inviting, and he saw her tongue coming out to lick them, Jughead knowing right there that he needed to kiss her, to have even just a small taste, otherwise he would die at that very moment.

“I think I’m gonna kiss you, Betty Cooper.” His lips formed the words almost against her lips and she closed her eyes, angling her head in a delicious way, waiting for him to go on with his promise.

“You better do.” Or I’ll die, she continued in her mind before feeling the slightest of touches against her petal lips, excitement shooting through her system like a drug and having her asking for more by lacing her arms behind his neck.

Jughead felt her mouth part in invitation and her fingers deliver the softest of caresses at the sensitive skin of his neck and he dove in for real this time, kissing her with all the build-up tension he had inside him, bringing her flat against his body by her waist and opening his mouth to savor hers with all he got, both of them sighing in the kiss, pushing, pulling, nibbling, sucking. And when the slightest of moans left her sweet like candy cane and strawberries mouth and vibrated through him whole, Jughead couldn’t help but attack her with new passion, leaning all the way towards her and seeking entrance with his tongue, something that Betty gladly accepted, squealing in delight and tugging at his mess of raven hair to bring him even closer.

“So that’s what a real kiss is like…” the boy murmured inside the kiss awestruck, Betty pulling back lightly to giggle and him following her mouth blindly, not ready yet to escape the sweetest flavor he had ever tasted.

“Not quite bad, huh?” Betty smiled against his lips and pecked them once, twice, three times while caressing up and down his jawline, feeling the happiest girl in the whole wide world.

“Perfect is the only thing that goes with you.” Jughead’s low voice sent a shiver down her spine and she dropped her forehead on his in affection, before their lips met again in the sweetest battle of dominance. 

Jughead Jones and Betty Cooper were finally not hiding anymore.

[cuthie]

Lautner: Stirring The Cauldron

  The question was asked: Where will you be when the fourth war comes to an end?

     Tell you where I’ll be. Alone, back in a retaken Darkshore or Gilneas one. No one giving me stink eye, no one looking to take offense at any slightest insult they perceive, whether it was intentional or happenstance. No more frowning faces teaming up against me, scolding me like I’m some punk kid who needs discipline. No more Laz giving me whiplash with his opening up when we’re alone and growling when we’re in public eye. No more fuckin Marco asking if my balls had dropped while he fondles his lynx. No more oversized elves with their weird negligent rituals, no more half demons.. Well, that guy hadn’t turned out too bad, had he? I guess the druidess is okay too. Whatever. That whole thing was probably Laz’s fault too.     No more witches. Cept Margo, she’s cool. How had I not picked up on that before?     Oh yeah, cause Laszlo is a turd and ugh.

    No more tryin to make amends through shifts in behavior that nobody picked up on anyways. No more tryin’ to earn respect and fight on behalf of my allies while they catcall me and make me feel like shite mid-fight. No more having to drag my feet away from competitors who genuinely like me, and having to return to a group that looks the other way when I approach. No more biased leadership ready to shift the blame on their favorite scapegoat. No more stick up her ass Haesel sayin’ we’re square, then goin out of her way to piss me off or finding a way to belittle me to others without having to even speak my name.     Me. Wilderness. Books. Lots of books. I’ve done such little reading since joining these assholes. Like, the dumb training with those Sentinels. Okay, so the Sentinels are actually really cool, but fuck me sideways if some of them aren’t the most condescending of people. No more swords and armor and magic hex pouches. No more blame. Just me, reading a thousand books of a thousand different worlds and characters, the best of which are just blank enough for me to become them internally.     At least Kierro’s cool. He could have named me. He didn’t. Everyone knew who he was talking about. Mid-speech I got a dozen sets of eyes directed right at me. A subtle threat suggesting I be removed for my own safety.     If that happened, I’d consider my debt repaid. Boom, done, over, easy. I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for them, so I figured the nicest thing I could do would be to join up. I’m not a babe lost in the woods. I’m not useless, no matter how Haesel tries to devalue my worth. I’m a Gilnean. We’re good at bloody everything. Moreso, I’m a Worgen, I’m a wolf, I’m a beast, that monster that Lassie fears. Leaping up fifteen or twenty feet into branches, swift as an arrow, capable of ripping a man in half with just my claws. Or teeth, as that blood elf had learned. Any witches wanna fling curses at me, I’ll find out what they taste like. Probably foul as fel like their little whatever-the-fuck those creatures were I bit into.     Sticks and mud and festering meat. I’m pretty sure nobody saw me vomit afterwards. They jump on even the slightest weakness here, and that’s all I need is someone asking if Laut’s ‘tum tum’ is okay.     Myth had said what I was thinkin, maybe what more than a few of us were thinking. He asked, ‘What would the Sentinels do, Haesel?’ What would they do if she abandoned her duty to them, left her post and went home because she wasn’t in charge and things weren’t going to her liking?     Haesel had feigned confusion. ‘Whatever do you mean?’     I tried liking her, but no matter what I do she just kinda flips me the bird. No, she’s not vulgar like that, but her own method is much more grating.     So I finished Myth’s question for him. ‘You abandoning your post.’ It was the first thing I had said in a good hour. I had taken in Kierro’s wolf, I was just as injured as the next bloke, but I deserved to be. So I stood in line, waiting in silence. Then Fey blew up. Haesel was abandoning us under the pretense that we’re too dangerous. No, not us, me. Was that supposed to be an ultimatum? Or an excuse because she was scared? Whatever. Fey’s the one who blew up, stomping her feet and telling me to ‘Shut the fuck up’.     It wasn’t the first time she had taken a side against me, won’t be the last.     I keep going back to that Kierro speech. I’ve got all my shite packed, and I’m trying to offer smiles to everyone. Hey, hi, hello. It’s exhausting being social and I’m terrible at it. Kierro’s got my back though. He didn’t say my name. I think he’s sincere when he calls us a family. That’s something I haven’t experienced for seven years now. I was just a kid before shite went all sixes and sevens. Now this big goofy night elf with his wild kinda hot hair is holding his hand out to me. And I owe him, I owe all of them. It’s the only reason I’m still here, close as I was to just uprooting after Fey’s outburst.     I don’t have to like everyone, none of them have to like me, but we need to be able to work together. I need to suck it up when certain individuals strip me down verbally, let me know how useless I am.     Of course, I did fuck up. This all started long before that. This was the first time in their company I -actually- messed things up. Everything else has been such peculiar happenstance that it’s just too difficult to explain away, moreso when I consider how awful I am at explaining things anyways. I just talk in circles trying to find the words that match descriptively and can be understood by everyone. I read faces wrong, see confusion, and retrace my conversation. Blah.     Why did I write that dumbass note?     Ugh. We were scouting. Bae was there. Good lookin, handsome as fel Baelryn. He stuck up for me when we were strangers. He helped me take the win against Laz and Margo. That was amazing. Things weren’t as tense in Boralus as they were here in the haunted woods of Drustvar. 

    So we’re looking at effigies. Old ones. If there was any magic in them, it probably expired a hundred years ago. Of course, I don’t know anything about them outside of what was explained to us back in Whateverguard Soundstorm. I really need to memorize at least the names of these locales. So Bael shoots one, Lex.. Was that her name? Lexi, yeah, pretty sure. She picks some up, inspects them. Every gust of wind, every twig snapping and every hoot of an owl was ominous to them and everyone else in the woods.     People who are actually good fighters. We were in a war against the Undead and their Horde monster companions. Some of these people have been in war after war, standing toe to toe with space Orcs from another dimension as well as the foulest of demons in existence. Comparatively, these old hags were fleas, right? Nuisance, pests.     But they were scared, they were cautious. It made me uneasy. And Bae was there with me, and everyone was just too worrisome.  So I smirk and make a joke out of it. That’s something I tend to do when I’m nervous anyways, make bad jokes that only I get. I took out a bit of parchment, got my ink and quill all setup. I like the smell of ink on paper, it makes me think I could someday be a writer like my father was.     And then I wrote the first thing that came to mind. ‘Dear Coven of Whatever’. I don’t remember the rest. I wanted them to know we had them where we wanted and we weren’t scared. Which wasn’t true at all. Logically, they weren’t going to happen across my note in the middle of the fuckin woods in the middle of the night even. Right? The random happenstance chance of that was just.. Incalculable. I put a small note on a tree, I feel better, I look good, strong, intimidating, hot maybe? Heh, yeah. I mean, I’d do me.     Lex caught me, read the note. Told me not to be doing stuff like that, so I just gave her that confident smirk. I wasn’t flat out beating my chest, but I did give Bael that eyebrow thing I’ve been workin on in the mirror. The ‘hubba hubba, yeah I’m fly, baby I know’ look. Is there even anything there, or is this Laz all over again?     Then shite went down. I fell asleep reading about the starless nights of Roland and Steven, could-be lovers of Westfall. Gah I wish the author would just settle that. I mean, come on, they’re clearly made for one another. And Gil? Wow, yeah, fuck Gil. Rich ass bastard, Steven wouldn’t even be with him if it wasn’t for his money and the debt owed. Ugh.     Voices rang out, reading my letter word for word. In my opinion, there was as much a chance of Sylvanas Windrunner finding that letter as there was these old codgers.     It was all a rush. The undead, the banging, the storm, the calls, the little army of hellions that tasted like illidari farts.     We won. That’s what we came here for, right? To fight them, to beat them, to protect those that would be harmed otherwise. If their focus is on us, it’s not on the townsfolk. That’s a good thing, but regardless, that was never my intent.     I wanted to put a positive spin on it. I didn’t wanna gripe or bicker, that was the old pre-Ancient ritual Lautner. This was the new and improved me, the one who’s eager to help and says ‘yes ma’am’ and ‘no thank you’.     They didn’t give two shits. They were pissed and they let me know, repeatedly. Some more than others.       So what now? I guess I’ll just shut up. That’s what Fey told me to do, yeah? Fuck her. Maybe I should just intentionally say nothin’ when I’m around her. Then again, that’s exactly what she wants. She wouldn’t see passive aggressiveness, she’d just see it as her winning.     Winning what? Why is it always so important that I ‘win’ things that aren’t competitions?     Ugh. Whatever. This is so stupid dramatic, like a bad young adult novel. ‘But my feelings’. Yeah, fuck feelings. I need to suck this shit up and just kill some witches. I’ll eventually get to go back to being alone when we win. Or I’ll go to where that fire would have taken me.     Either way, it’s best to just continue this dumbass path of trying to get along with assholes. Just smile and nod and take my lickings. Who knows, maybe they’ll come around.