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knoepfchen · 3 years

Text

tulcea, 2018

a/n: the little art heist joe and nicky pull in this story actually happened, and the circumstances of the painting’s recovery are just strange enough to imagine it might have actually been them. for the purposes of this and the general story, this fic is set in 2019, immediately post-movie. a prequel of sorts to notre-dame and goussainville revisited.

After she’d seen Copley’s boards, Andy slept for three days.

On the first morning, Copley asked: “Is Andy up yet?”

He paused clearing away the table from breakfast as Nile stepped into the kitchen. She shook her head and took a slice of toast from him. They both shrugged.

On the second morning, Copley appeared in the doorway to their room.

“Should we wake her?” Nile looked up from the game she’d been playing on her phone. 36 hours was a long time to sleep.

“Is she having a nightmare?” Nicky’s voice drifted across the hallway.

Andy was still curled up on the bed in Copley’s guest bedroom. It looked like she hadn’t moved an inch since she’d gone to sleep two days before.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Nile said.

They let her sleep.

On the third morning, Nile hesitated at Andy’s bedside. It had been a hellish week by everyone’s standards, and on top of the betrayal by one of their closest friends, Andy was also recovering from a gunshot wound. Properly recovering, for the first time in so long. Did her body still know how to do that?

She found Joe and Nicky on the terrace, their hands wrapped around coffee mugs and what was left of one of Copley’s many daily newspapers on the bench between them. Nile had also wanted a coffee, but Copley had been in the kitchen, his questions inevitable.

“Andy’s still asleep,” Nile said as she sat on one of the deckchairs. She didn’t quite succeed in keeping the worry from her voice.

“It’s okay, Nile.” Nicky folded up the current affairs section he’d been reading and wordlessly offered her a sip from his coffee.

“Three days seems like a long time now, but it’s not all that much, once you’ve been alive that long,” Joe said. “You know how Andy told you to get some sleep while you can? ”

“Are you telling me Andy is just having the immortal equivalent of an afternoon nap right now?”

Nile knew she sounded sceptical. She didn’t even say what she really thought, which was that Andy wasn’t immortal anymore, and the days she could sleep away suddenly numbered.

Nicky smiled at her like he understood anyway. “We would wake her, if we had to.”

“She’s still Andy. A little reckless, but at the end of the day, the person who knows what’s best for Andy is usually… Andy,” Joe said.

“She’s still recovering. By the time she wakes up, she’ll be fine.”

And Nicky was right.

On the fourth day, Andy strolled into the kitchen like nothing had happened. With a spring in her step, Nile would have said, but that somehow didn’t feel appropriate for a 6,000-year-old.

“How are you feeling?” Copley asked her as Joe wordlessly pushed a mug into Andy’s hands.

“I'm good, thank you.” Andy lifted her shirt to reveal a bullet wound that was nearly healed. Whatever it was that made them immortal, it wasn’t fully gone from her system yet.

“That’s gonna be a nice scar, boss.” Joe smirked.

“You can start to collect them,” Nicky said. “Put your bronze trinket collection to shame.”

“They’re not trinkets.” Andy gently jostled him and turned to Copley. “What have you got for us?”

Copley cleared his throat. If he was surprised by the sudden turn of events, he knew better than to show it. Nile remembered that learning curve, at least.

“I’ve been doing some security checks on the safe houses you’ve told me about. Once I’ve procured new identity documents for all of you, I believe the best plan of action in the short-term is for you to stay in Europe.”

Andy nodded. “So, refugee crisis in the Mediterranean? Fighting populism?”

Nile held her breath. She was curious to learn what her first ‘real’ job as an immortal would be. But Copley only frowned.

“No, no, when I said you should stay in Europe, I thought that it is the best place for you to lay low while I erase recent traces of you online and establish proper security protocols at all your safe houses.”

“That’s not what I meant when I said ‘let’s get to work,’ Copley.” Andy set her mug down. “We’ve just taken a break, we’re not taking another so soon after.”

“Oh really, a break?” The timbre of Copley’s voice was slipping into sarcasm, but he had turned to Nicky and Joe. “All of you laying low for a year?”

To Nile’s surprise, Joe was looking slightly flustered.

“So the two ‘Dutch nationals’ who arrived at the Netherlands’ embassy in Romania last year to turn in a stolen Picasso, they were just two ordinary citizens who happened upon a painting, yes? They were not, say, two immortal men who’d been tracking the crime syndicate that had stolen the painting to Romania and decided to save what was left of them once the thieves started burning the others?”

Nicky’s ears were a bit redder than before, but he was still returning Copley gaze. “It was the right thing to do.”

Andy groaned. “You did Tulcea without me?”

“Sorry, boss.” Joe smiled sheepishly. “We had a lead while we were in the area, and your phone was off, so—”

“Unbelievable,” Andy muttered.

“Anyway,” Copley steered the conversation back on track. Nile would’ve preferred to hear more about the art heist. “Some of your safehouses have been breached. I will get you some new passports and once I can be reasonably certain that your closest safehouse is secure, I will give you to the go ahead to either clear out of them or establish a new security protocol there. Until you have a safe base, no more sneaky jobs, no more solo missions.”

Andy turned to Nile. Judging by her face, that was the first rule she was going to break.

But she only smiled at Copley. “Sure thing.”

#i promise i will a) write the actual heist i promised and b) shape these parts into the actual fic they're begging to be #there's just a little bit of a lot going on right now #so these little weekend snippets are all my brain allows #nile freeman #andromache the scythian #tog fic #the old guard #my fic #all this time

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dreamingofaizawa · 3 years

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Good Kitty

Shouta Aizawa x Chubby! Kitty Hybrid! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

If you are under the age of 18, leave. Thank you.

Warnings: Kitty hybrid reader, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink (?), reader has insecurities, Shouta is soft and lowkey feral?, chubby kink (sorta), reader has a heat for the first time, barely implied virginity loss, a touch of dacryphilia

Word Count: 2.4 k

Author’s Note: This is inspired by @cupcake-rogue ’s fic Not Allowed on the Bed. I got permission to use it as inspo so here we are! Tbh the orignal had me feeling all sorts of feelings because, as a very subby sub that loves to please, I definitely have a praise kink and I WILL CRY if I’m called a bad girl. HOWEVER, Katsuki being the rough-around-the-edges guy he is wanting reader regardless of size made me very happy and warm and fuzzy.

The premise with this is pretty much the same, except I made reader a kitty hybrid...and of course I wrote for Shouta, love of my life he is. I’m such a fucking simp. I’m not the biggest fan of the ending, but this has been sitting in my WIPs for too damn long and it’s decent enough for me to feel ok posting it.

Also, for reference, reader has black fur regardless of hair color. Reader could be blonde, but still have black ears and tail. That’s just the way I’ve chosen to write this for some reason, don’t ask me why, I’m weird like that.

I think this is the first time I’ve written for a hybrid, so cut me a little slack.

Anywho, enjoy~

You can’t remember life outside the shelter. You’d grown up here, the caretakers said they’d found you on the street as a nearly newborn kitten and immediately scooped you up and brought you back here. That was a long time ago. Now you sit, waiting, your hopes for getting adopted diminishing with every passing day.

It’s unfortunate, but you still haven’t been adopted. It’s not that you’re bad, you always behave, you make sure you do. But you’ve overheard time and time again the people that gazed down at you and whispered about how you were too chunky, too big and too squishy for a kitty hybrid. And some even called you bad luck. The pitch black fur on your ears and tail warded off many.

Today was just the same as any other day. Wake up, get fed, wait in your room while potential owners pick and choose not you. Adults and children alike would take chunks out of their time to play with you, but they all left the shelter with another smaller cat. It was nearing bed time now, dinner just finished and the caretakers were about to start closing when the little bell on the front door jingled. Someone had just come in. You ignored it all the same.

Two pairs of footsteps began making their way past rooms, whoever it was that had entered smelled good, like coffee and tree bark. A smooth hum accompanied the caretaker’s voice, it made your ears twitch and tail sway gently. Still, you decided to just curl up in bed and try to sleep. The chance of him adopting you was slim, if it existed at all.

As you lay there your ears pick up their footsteps, the lazy set that dragged familiar, the nearly silent set less so. You listened as they came closer, never stopping as the man strode past each room and peered in the windows. You waited for them to pass right by your room, as they had been, but suddenly the footsteps halted. The caretaker spoke first.

“Y/n? You awake?” You let your eyes flutter open and sat up, tucking your legs under you and sitting up straight. They asked the man if he wanted to go in and see you, and he gave a simple nod. When he entered you finally looked up at him. The first thing you noticed were his eyes, tired and bloodshot with dark circles beneath them, a deep scar curved under his right eye. His long black hair fell around his shoulders, swaying lightly with every measured step he took toward you.

He stopped right in front of you, a large hand stretching out and you give it a small sniff before nudging your head into it, letting him pet your hair and scratch at the base of your ears. It felt nice to be getting attention like this. A small purr sounded in your chest, your tail gently swishing behind you.

“How long have you been here?” His voice is deep and calm, tired even, but it sounds so welcoming. It’s so soothing to your sensitive ears, like a warm blanket. You give a small hum before answering.

“A long time. I don’t remember anything outside this place.” At that he raised an eyebrow, turning to the caretaker with a questioning look.

“Most people look for...specific traits in the cat hybrids. Y/n here is well behaved, a perfect house kitty really,” you purred a bit at the praise, “But she’s a little larger than most. And her black fur wards off the more superstitious.” The man gives a curious hum before looking back down at you.

“Do you want to come home with me, kitty?” The question caught you a little off guard. Nobody really asked the hybrids if they wanted to go with them. You looked over to the caretaker, who nodded their head with a gentle smile, encouraging you to answer. All you could do was give a small nod, and soon you were in the car, on the way to your new home.

He’d told you to call him Shouta. He was nice, always quiet and never got mad. He never smiled, but you supposed that’s just the way he is. He gave you your own room, and always let you rub up on him when you wanted to, taking the opportunity to pet you. Occasionally you got the odd kiss on the forehead when you nuzzled into his neck. Those always made you purr. He never came seeking you out, which was good since there were times you really didn’t want to be touched.

The longer you’re with him the closer you get, and you find yourself doing things you’d never thought to do before. Sometimes you found the floor more comfortable than the couch, and would kneel down and rub up on his leg, your tail wrapping around his ankle. There were times you’d see his fingers idly drumming on his lap, and you’d lay down and nibble on one with your little fang-like canines. He didn’t seem to mind that little oral fixation, and he always let you do whatever you wanted. All in all, life with Shouta is great.

But today you feel weird. You’d been cooped up in your room for the first hour or so of the weekend morning, not quite wanting to go out and make it known something was off. But it’s gotten abnormally hot, your face and chest especially warm, and between your legs as well. Your panties are beginning to feel damp, your thighs starting to feel humid and sticky. It’s a little uncomfortable. And your tummy is starting to boil, neediness beginning to cloud your mind. This never happened at the shelter.

Reluctantly, you step out of bed onto slightly wobbly legs and peek your head out of your door to see him sitting on the couch, a book in hand and a mug of coffee on the table. His hair is loose, his strong lean body relaxed as he read. The sight of him and his scent made the feeling worse, made your panties and thighs wetter, your chest beginning to heave with your panted breaths.

“Sh-shouta…” Your voice came out shakier and quieter than you wanted it to, but he’d heard you regardless. He closed the book and peered over at your shaking form in the doorway.

“What is it kitty?” You nearly mewled at his voice, his heavenly smooth baritone sending a shiver down your spine through to the tip of your tail.

“Something’s wrong...I feel weird…” As you tell him about everything that’s happening to your body, he’s dragging his eyes over you, taking in every detail. Soon he’s on the phone with the doctor, you can’t quite comprehend his words, only catching snippets. ‘Help’ and ‘how long’, followed by agreeing hums. It was all jumbled after that, your mind refusing to focus as you leaned heavily on the doorframe, your quivering legs barely able to hold your body.

Shouta’s large hand came up and cupped your cheek, letting you nuzzle into his palm. When had he hung up the phone? He ordered you to sit on the bed, and you obliged, watching as he swept up his hair into a loose bun and strode over, tilting your chin to look up at him through half-lidded eyes. He’s so close, his scent overwhelming and making your brain fuzzy.

“You’re in heat, kitty.” Heat...where had you heard that before? Back at the shelter, maybe? It was all a distant, unfocused memory right now. Shouta leaned down and kissed you sweetly, lips melding with yours as you purred and mewled, your tail thrashing behind you. His hands tugged at your clothes until you were bare before him, every inch of you on display.

“You’re such a pretty kitty, you know that? So beautiful. Lay down for me.” The praise made you purr, made a chill crawl up your spine and your tail flick wildly. You obeyed the command, laying flat in the middle of the bed and he slotted himself between your legs, plunging two fingers into your tight hole. He let out a groan, pumping and scicssoring his fingers to stretch you out. You were already a sloppy mess, loud squelches ringing through the room in between your loud, whiny mewls and panting.

It felt so good, the heat in your belly burning and tightening until Shouta’s fingers curled up into a spot that made stars dance in your vision. The pressure in your belly snapped hard, your legs trembling as he kept fingering you through it. His fingers slowed when you whined about it being too much, too sensitive. But you still felt hot all over, now it was worse, you wanted something so bad but you didn’t know what.

He got up and undressed himself and you licked your lips at his naked body, scarred skin pulled taut over thick muscle. What stood between his legs had heat spreading like fire through your body. You’d never seen a naked man before. He was quick to return to you, slotting his hips between your thighs and guiding the thick head of his cock along your soaked folds.

“Relax kitty. I’m gonna make you feel good.” You gave a small nod and then he was pushing his thick cock inside you, groaning at the way your pussy clamped down on him. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth as he slowly pushed and pumped his hips, cock dragging along your wet warm walls perfectly. Mewls slipped past your lips, high pitched whines and pants like music in Shouta’s ears.

His hands wandered over your body, squishing and pulling at every piece of you he could get his calloused fingers on. It made you squirm beneath him, your own hands trying to push his away, but he wasn’t having any of it. He grabbed both your wrists and pinned them above your head in one strong hand, then went right back to groping your body with his free one.

“I can’t have you stopping me from touching you, kitty.” That’s all he said before focusing back on your body. He tugged at your belly, your sides, every place that was fatty and squishy. He’d never admit out loud how much he loved how soft you are. You’re perfect, plump and meaty, just more for him to touch, to look at, more to squeeze and pinch and pull.

He groaned out as you whined beneath him, tears beginning to clump in your lashes because he just kept squeezing, and he isn’t fucking you hard enough. Your orgasm built slowly with his languid pace, not nearly enough to get you to that peak and you were frustrated because you wanted relief but it wouldn’t come. Shouta picks up on your hips jerking and rolling, trying to get him to fucking move faster. He pulled his hips back and slammed back in, setting a brutal pace and making you whine high and long.

Tears begin to fall from the sheer ecstasy of it, and he’s realizing how much he loves to see you cry from the pleasure he can give you. With a groan, he’s releasing your hands and wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face into your breasts and biting and sucking at your skin as he pounds you into the mattress. He isn’t normally an impulsive man, wouldn’t let himself let go like this. But for you. For you he’d give in to his lust and ravage you like you need him to.

Your orgasm slams over your body like a tsunami, your muscles locking up and a loud yip ringing from your throat, pleasure making your whole body shake. Shouta let out a hiss, your nails digging into the muscles in his back furiously, but he wouldn’t stop for that. He never stuttered in his pace, just kept ramming his hips into yours, heavy balls slapping against your ass and lewd squelches coming from where your bodies are connected.

You’re overstimulated, throat feeling raw and tears still falling down your heated cheeks as you thrash from another orgasm, this one just as powerful as the last and making your vision spot black. This time Shouta leans back, wrapping a hand around your throat and licking the salty trails away.

“Such a good little kitty for me, so good.” With a few more thrusts he’s spilling inside you, and you can feel the warmth spread in your belly as you lay there, boneless. He lays down on top of you, both of you sweaty and tired and he starts whispering sweet words into your twitching ears.

“So pretty. You’re so pretty, kitten.”

“Such a good girl for me.”

“You’re all mine, kitty. So good, all for me.” Tears begin to spill from your eyes for a different reason. Up until now you’d lived your life believing nobody wanted you because there was something wrong with you. You never felt ugly, never really felt like there was something truly wrong with you, but you always felt...unwanted. Unloved. Unlovable.

But Shouta makes you feel wanted, and loved, and pretty and all the things you always assumed you didn’t deserve. You’re his kitty now, and you’re such a good kitty for him too. He’s showering you with affection that you’d never known before and you’re shaking from all the overwhelming emotions. He can feel your body quivering, leans back to look at you and cups your face in his warm palm.

“What’s wrong, kitten? Why are you crying?” Your nose twitches as you sniffle, which he mildly notes is fucking adorable.

“Do you mean it? Am I a good kitty?” His eyebrows furrow and he rolls the both of you over so you’re on top of him. He’s peering into your big sad eyes as if reading your soul through them, trying to read the emotions you’re feeling, but it isn’t hard for him to figure out what’s racing through your mind. You nuzzle your nose into his neck and breathe in his scent, his hand coming up to pet your hair and ears.

“Of course, kitten. You’re such a good kitty.” The small reassurance makes you feel warm and happy, your tail flicking softly before curling around both your leg and Shouta’s, the end brushing his skin gently. You can’t help but want to stay with Shouta forever.

#shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x fem reader #shouta aizawa mha #shouta aizawa bnha #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa shouta x fem reader #aizawa shouta mha #aizawa shouta bnha #aizawa mha #aizawa bnha #tw: hybrid #shouta aizawa smut #aizawa shouta smut #aizawa smut

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khaleesiofalicante · 2 years

Note

"Man is the least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth" - Oscar Wilde

Ok, last weekend was shit. But I loved this chapter. Just some points:

Raphael being the real MVP as always 😎

Magnus prefers to be sun-kissed.

And the LA sun doesn’t just kiss you.

It full-on makes out with you.

Idk why I laughed so hard 😂😂

God, the photoshoot looked great😍

I kinda like you, random sir hdgsjdhdj

The thing about boundaries was soooo on point on the way things went for him!!

The way he knew he made the right decision even if it hurted😭

This doesn’t sound like his heart making shit up. This sounds like his heart. SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP JFHDIDJDK

Magnus not taking shit about the company us badass behavior😎

“If you like her so much, then you should date her.” “Oh, I wish. But I’m tragically heterosexual,” Have I said I love Catarina in the last 5 minutes?!? She is just🥺 🥰

When will this man stop walking in on everyone?!?!?! Honeslty this scene was so funny tho😂😂

I love Luca ok?!?!? But also yes, raisins are bad!!!

Luca and his raisins can suck it. OMFG

THAT PHONE CALL MADE ME VERY🥺🥺🥺 THEY ARE SO SOFT AND IN LOVE AHDHKDVDOF

“I know that,” Alec chuckles. “I just meant, like, it makes no sense. We are just saying random shit. Cute buttons and cold shoulders.” This man gets me😌

I love that video with my soul jdhdjdhdkjx

I read some comments analysing the way Max and Rafe are scared of Alec and Magnus, saying thta they aren’t scared of their anger, they are scared of their saddness and I just- 😭

“I’m actually surprised that Max is scared of me,” Alec chuckles. “Little shit doesn’t act like it.”Its all about pretend honey jdgdjjd jk, jk

HE WAS ABOUT TO SAY SOMETHING?!! FUCK!!

Max a lot of potential, but as that snippet said, sometimes you dont know what to do with it!!

ANJALI IS THE ABSOLUTE BEST, THE REAL MVP, A GODNESS, A QUEEN, THE BEST THE WORLD HAS TO OFFER, THE-

Honestly, I love her!! She could step on me and I would thank her😍😍

"She is the kind of person who doesn’t need to be told twice." Like the badass she is😎

Anjali be like: Yall are a mess and you did fucked up, fortunately you have me to smack some sense to you and that is very sexy of her😌

"He stayed with you every day after that. That was his choice. So, don’t you ever fucking question whether Rafael loves you. Don’t ever question my Rafael’s love. Not when that’s all he knows how to do.” 💙💙💙💙

The scenes with Ben were actually amazing and really sweet!! I hope my boy finds the love he deserves!!! He took care of Rafe and he is his friend and I am emo🥺

Even amidst all the chaos and pain, he looks perfect and beautiful. This boy knows how to have a break down. Anjali sighs dreamily. Honestly sams Anjali💕

Magnus and Ben talking about Alec is something I didnt know I needed but absolutely loved it!!!

“Okay. Don’t ask me how I know this. But I technically can. It’s called parental kidnapping and it’s illegal in the state of New York.”👀👀

“Max carries a lot of pain too. Just because it doesn’t look like yours, it doesn’t mean it hurts him any less.” they are both hurting and it is hurting me too!!!

“I sometimes wish I was like him,” Rafael says quietly. “I wish I could do instead of think.” BITCH THE WAY I RELATE TO THIS BOY IS WRONG JDHDISJ

Rafael, baby, please take care of yourself and dont be so hard on you. You are doing already amazing. You are allowed to take a break and rely on others!! As someone once said "You gotta practice that self-love, honey!"

"I only wish I had known how to stop. I wish I had looked at you and told you that you’ve done enough." Don’t mind me. Just going to make this another quote that will live 24/7 in my brain🥰

LIKE FATHER LIKE SON😭😭

“You are not weak. You are tired,” Magnus smiles. “Enough now. It’s time to rest.”

///

“My Rafael,” Magnus whispers. “I wish I was half as strong as you are on your weakest day.”

PLEASE I NEED SOMEONE TO HUG ME AFTER THIS DJHDKDJ

“Because if there is one thing I know for certain, it is that Alec loves me more than anyone,” THE RANGE THAT THEY HAVE OMFG<3333

Let's get this babe some sobriety, love and therapy🥰

ROSEWOOD RIGHTS FOREVER❤️❤️

Welp, this days have been horrible honestly, I can't even begin to infodump jdhdjdjd so I haven't read the new chapter, but I just wanted to say tlnd has actually been a way to distract myself and help me get through this shit. Thank you for that💚

I hope you are doing fine. I'M SENDING THE BEST PRODUCTIVE VIBES YOUR WAY!!! I have like 3 essays to submit, so I feel you jdhdkdjd

Song rec: Call out my name, cover from Ruel (I have been listening to this on repeat)

This is an OFFICIAL threat to god to give you a mf-ing break or i will unleash my wrath :)

I hope you feel better soon. I'm glad this chapter helped and reading your thoughts made me so emo.

ALSO BABE.

BAAAAABE. YOU ARE KIDDING RIGHT?

Call out my name *THE RUEL COVER* is literally how TLND came to be. I was listening to it and came with the idea of magnus not being able to call alec alexander anymore and alec not being able to call magnus baby and hence tlnd was born. THE POWER OF RUEL >>>>

#now imma go listen to it too byeeeee #tlnd

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tossawary · 3 years

Note

How do you prepare for a writing session? I have a terrible time focusing on anything and would love some pointers

My focus has been all over the place lately, but, ahhh, here are a bunch of things that help me personally focus on getting that WIP done:

- Deadlines. Deadlines make me focus like nothing else. If I allowed myself to officially say that my update day needed to be Thursday this week instead of Wednesday, the chapter would come late on Thursday. Having an official update day of the week helps me pace myself.

(Having that day of the week not be a weekend day lets me actually relax and enjoy my weekend, which helps me recharge.)

- Outlines. Having an outline to follow makes it easier to write a lot all at once or to pick up where I left off if I’m writing in bursts. My outlines are a mess of point-form notes with all the plot and character moments I think I need to hit. Sometimes they’re snippets of nice-sounding dialogue and sometimes they’re things like, “Shang Qinghua says something here that reminds the audience of the existence of X plot detail coming up shortly.”

Or: “- Shang Qinghua does Y action. - Mobei-Jun is amused.”

I can dig up one of my outlines for a PINTWILF chapter. I have nearly all of them still, I think. Some of them have very detailed outlines and then some of them were super vague, like, “I HAVE A VISION, LET’S GO BEFORE I LOSE IT.”

I have a notes document with the outlines and a document that I’m actually writing in. Sometimes, I’ll have the side by side on my screen, with the notes document on my left, so I can glance between the two as I write.

(When I do this, I keep a third window hidden, which contains my music tabs and my thesaurus tabs and my distraction tabs. If I can’t see it, it helps.)

Sometimes, if I want one big window, I’ll copy-paste the outline into my writing document, underneath the in-progress writing, separated by a “CONTINUE HERE”. The point-form notes come up one by one, and I delete the point-form notes as I hit them until the copy-pasted outline is gone.

- If your eyes are slipping over the words, change the font and the font size. A large, dyslexic-friendly font like Comic Sans is usually good. Switching fonts is also good for spell-checking.

Shorter paragraphs can also make things seem snappier and catch my eyes better. They can also reveal the beats (plot, character, tension, etc.) of a scene. Once your bones are made clear, you can always go back in and rejoin paragraphs, or elaborate on the beats that need it.

- Honestly, just having massive chunks of free time (yay, being confined to my house) is what has allowed me to write this much. When I have errands or chores or tasks, I try to get them over with before I start writing, because constantly thinking “I need to remember to pay that bill after this” is a focus-breaker. It’s easier to just do it now so I don’t forget later.

Work is left at work! So fun writing time can be fun writing time only!

If I’m hungry or thirsty or need to use the bathroom, I just get up and go do that. Being hungry or thirsty makes my brain uncooperative. It needs energy to do its thing! Get up, solve the body’s problem, take the opportunity to stretch, and then my focus isn’t constantly divided by thinking, “I’m hungry.” Meals and other needs shouldn’t be withheld as rewards! They’re needed for writing!

If my feet are cold, I go get socks. One more distraction eliminated!

On a similar note, sometimes I can’t focus because I feel like I haven’t “accomplished enough” of other things and it feels like I have other things I should be doing. Taking a walk, cooking a meal (or a treat!), or getting a task or chore out of the way can help with that. I have Accomplished Something and now I can write freely!

- Give myself permission to just GET IT DONE and then go back and improve upon it later is a huge help. My writing doesn’t have to be pretty. I don’t have to get it right on the first try. I can go back and make it nice later.

If it’s feeling a little flat, I can come back later and tone it up.

If it’s feeling a little too much, I can come back later and tone it down.

I also don’t have to go back and make it nice later. Projects can be imperfect.

Likewise, it’s good to give myself permission to be direct when I’m writing. “Oh, damn, I need Shang Qinghua to cross the room here,” I’ll say, and it feels like I’ve hit a dead end. How do I write that transition? I write: “Shang Qinghua crossed the room.” Done! Stage directions don’t have to be fancy!

Maybe I’ll add an adverb later on the second pass, but dialogue can convey that he crossed the room carefully (“Are you... okay?”) or angrily (“What is wrong with you?!”) well enough.

I’m also allowed to just use “said”. Sometimes less is more!

- I’m only “allowed” to post one WIP to AO3 at a time. That also helps.

If you have other WIPs that feel like they’re dragged you down, you can just mark them as “incomplete” or “on hiatus”. Feeling accountable to others helps me write, but it also helps to remind myself I don’t “owe” my time or effort to any project if I’m not feeling it right now. People might be disappointed that I’m not writing what they want or that I even have to backtrack on a promise, but their disappointment isn’t really my problem. I’m allowed to change my mind.

Sometimes ideas have limits. Some ideas can become feature-length films and some ideas can become 6-hour mini-series and some ideas are only really worth about a short film (unless you bring in more characters and themes and sub-plots, etc). Sometimes, you have to get the writing version of a seam-ripper, figure out what you’re not vibing with, and come back with more characters and themes and sub-plots to make an idea vibe with you again.

And sometimes it’s good to follow Marie Kondo’s example and go, “You know what? This unfinished fic taught me that I do not enjoy writing fics like this.” Or: “This unfinished fic taught me that I do not vibe with this idea.”

- Sometimes, music is more distracting than anything else, especially when I’m writing dialogue. I’ll turn music off when I need to “hear” the dialogue better. Listening to ambience mix style stuff that goes on for hours can help set the mood and also means I’m not distracted by constantly picking new music.

- Sometimes I wear specific outfits or change into a different outfit when I want to be in a better mood for writing. Usually into a more comfortable outfit. (But sometimes there’s a scene that calls to be written by an author wearing a fancy dress! However, I find very fancy outfits are for very rare occasions.)

Brushing my hair or brushing my teeth before a writing sessions can help me feel refreshed. Sometimes I shower before my writing sessions. I find it relaxing to feel clean. Changing bedsheets or rearranging the couch to my liking can help too. Sometimes, I channel the energy of a bird picking at my nest and fluffing my feathers, for the Best Environment and Best Look! These cleaning behaviors are important for attracting mates and all the jazz, but they’re also good for attracting personal happiness and good writing vibes.

- Rereading comments before a writing session can help me feel pumped.

I answer comments or asks in bunches because most often I prefer to direct my energy towards my writing sessions. I love the comments and the asks! So much that sometimes I want to hoard them forever! But sometimes I need to set them aside so that I can keep making the writing I enjoy.

Sometimes it can be distracting, though.

- Okay! I think that’s everything off the top of my head! Key points for me:

Time!

Preparation!

Comfort!

Environment!

Different techniques will work differently for different people, of course. Sometimes, these techniques work very well for me and sometimes I just get more distracted. Oh, last thing is something I’m bad at, but: if it feels like I really need to sleep, I probably really need to sleep. Naps are my friend.

So are break weeks. Recharging is good.

#marichromatic #ask tossawary

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jmrothwell · 2 years

Text

Prompt: Ice Cream

Slices of Summer(Fourteen): A look at the band’s first summer together. Can they figure out boundaries, communication, visibility, among other things and still enjoy their summer?

First; Prev Next

______________

Flynn was finally back from her visit to her extended family. Julie thought she would take some time to decompress after spending nearly half a day trapped in a car with her family. However Flynn was too excited for their girl’s only weekend, so here she was at the Molina house on Thursday afternoon. Flynn decided it was the perfect time to start with Carlos still at baseball camp and her dad working as a photographer for a wedding that night.

“I’ve missed you.” Julie cried as she pulled Flynn into a hug.

“Of course you have.” Flynn’s snark caused Julie’s eyes to roll. Flynn pushed Julie back slightly and looked her over, concern written all over her face, “but seriously Jules. How are you doing? Your summer has sounded like it’s been all over the place.”

“I’m all right.” Julie smiled as she pulled Flynn inside. Flynn let her bag drop from her shoulder as they hugged again. This time Julie pushed her away. “We can talk about it more in the living room. I’ll just go grab some snacks”

“And soda.” Flynn called as they both went their separate directions.

“Of course.”

Julie was in the middle of collecting drinks and snacks from the kitchen when she heard the sound of the guys poofing in. It was a little distant so she wasn’t exactly sure where they landed. She’ll have to tell them the no boys allowed rule in a second.

Her snack search was cut short when Flynn screamed. As Julie's feet raced to the living room she heard Reggie scoff, “wha? Rude!”

The combined sounds of Alex cackling and Flynn’s lecturing tone greeted Julie as she entered the living room. Her brain was still too far in panic mode to process more than snippets of the scene in front of her. Reggie looked like someone had kicked his puppy-if he had one, Flynn angrily pointed at Reggie, Alex leaned heavily into the wall holding his stomach, and Luke looked torn between amusement and fright.

“What happened? Why is there screaming?”

Everyone spoke at once; Flynn continued her anger infused lecture.

“Flynn tried to punch Reggie.” “I was just trying to say hello.” “I thought you told her we could go visible now?” “You do not just appear behind a person with no warning.”

“Oh my god.” Julie groaned as she fell into the couch head in her hands. Her head shot right back up, “Wait, you tried to punch, Reggie?”

Reggie’s nod shook his whole body as he gaped at Flynn. Flynn just glared back, her arms crossed. “What else am I supposed to do when a strange boy scares me?”

Now, Reggie’s kicked puppy betrayal was tinged by a scowl. Luke pulled him back in order to hug him from behind, “I mean she is making some good points.” Reggie's face melted into a pout.

“Agreed. I, too, find Reggie strange.” Alex chimed in through stifled laughter.

Reggie threw his arms up in the air. “Juuules,” he whined as he threw his upper body face first onto the couch cushion beside her, kneeling on the floor. It reminded Julie a bit of that dramatic Disney princess meme she’d seen some time ago. Julie ran a hand through his hair, and gently dragged her nails across his scalp.

Julie turned her attention back to the others in the room. Flynn looked mildly guilty, but Luke and Alex looked mostly amused. Based on the boy's reactions she figured she was good to move the conversation forward. “So. Visibility doesn’t mean tangibility then?”

“Guess not,” Luke said with a disappointed shrug. She heard Alex groan, when she looked at him, his fingers furiously tapped away on his thighs. She held the arm not currently occupied with Reggie’s hair out towards Alex. He scuffed his shoe. Then he hesitantly joined Julie on the couch, rested his head on her shoulder and draped his legs over the arm of the couch.

“At least I don’t have to watch you hug the air anymore.” Flynn eased herself into the neighboring chair and pulled out her phone.

Julie giggled as she nodded in agreement. Wait, Flynn had wanted a girls only weekend. “Oh right, guys Flynn and I.”

“Wanted to hang out with you since I can finally see you.” Flynn cut her off. She must have seen Julie’s confusion because she followed it up with, “It’s true, plus it’s not quite the weekend yet. I’ll get you plenty to myself then.”

“Maybe don’t punch people if you want to hang out with them.” Reggie mumbled into the couch. Luke sat beside him on the floor and awkwardly bent his arm to rub circles on the bassist's back, it clearly wasn’t comfortable. Reggie must have sensed this because he soon twisted himself to join Luke on the floor. He rested his head on her knee, probably in hopes to keep getting head pats.

“Do you have any ice cream?” Flynn asked as she scrolled through her phone.

“I miss ice cream.” Luke murmured to the ceiling. Reggie and Alex murmured agreements.

Julie let Flynn know that they did still have some ice cream through mild chuckles. Then she internally winced, she forgot she was in the middle of getting snacks. Flynn seemed to have forgotten as well and just continued, “I was thinking of maybe ordering burgers, and we could make some milkshakes to go with. You boys want any?”

“Ghosts don’t eat.” Luke said plaintively.

“And? Ghosts don’t exactly turn visible, get sunburnt, or have lifer cuddle piles either.” Flynn was looking down at her phone when she said it so she didn’t realize what she had done.

But Julie knew. Julie saw the heads begin to tilt and the gears begin to spin. She moved before she fully realized if she even needed to. She managed to bodily throw herself in front of the fridge just as the guys rounded the corner behind her, thank God they had a ‘forgot we could ghost poof’ moment.

“Wait!” She shouted at pouting faces.

“But Julie, Flynn thinks we might be able to eat.” Luke whined as he threw his arms across the kitchen island.

Julie maintained her defensive position in front of the fridge, even though the guys had settled around the kitchen island. “We don’t know that for sure and I’d rather not find out by either potentially wasting our food or eating my dad out of house and home. Especially before I introduce him to you guys. What kind of a first impression would that be?” Instead of the expected pouts and puppy eyes, Julie was surrounded by deer caught in headlights.

“You were planning to introduce us to your dad?” Alex stiffened, “Since when?”

“Oh.” Julie hadn’t fully registered she said that, “I mean I guess I figured now that you guys were getting better with the visibility thing you were going to want to properly meet him. Unless you don’t?”

They all looked a little uncertain, although in distinctly different ways. Reggie looked like he was trying to figure out if he should be nodding or shaking his head, with how his head was swiveling. Luke’s face scrunched up, his eyes lifted to the ceiling, as if he was trying to search his own thoughts. Alex was muttering things under his breath, she only caught “still a dad.”

Julie exhaled as she leaned on the counter, “how about, you guys think on that? Once we’ve figured out if and when we tell my dad, then we’ll start figuring out the eating thing? Unless Flynn was serious and she’s willing to buy you experimental burgers herself?”

The boys all nodded sagely as they thought it over. Reggie was the first to crack, his smile took over his whole face as he dashed out of the room “Flynn, what about pizza?”

_____

AN: JATP Fanfic Masterlist. This one got a little long but I didn’t think there was any good spot to split it. I wrote this back before I wrote the Fireworks part. In my debate of who Flynn should try and reflexively punch (Luke or Reggie) the decision boiled down to who was most likely to greet her first.

#flynn the harbinger of chaos #jatp fanfic #julie and the himbos #julie molina #reggie peters #alex mercer #luke patterson #Flynn

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seasonofthewicth · 4 years

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A Groovy Kind of Love - Chapter 15

AN: This chapter takes us over the 60k line, and I never expected this fic to get this long! We’re finally at the date! The date!!! Please nobody throw anything at me (even virtually)...

masterlist - ao3 - my askbox

“My saviour.”

Aelin hurried her final few steps through the hallway towards where Dorian stood, her heels clacking along the linoleum flooring and echoing through the now silent hallways of the school.

“Thank you,” She gasped as she closed her fingers around the royal blue mug he held in an outstretched hand and the scent of freshly brewed coffee swirled around her. She breathed it in deeply as she took her first sip, relaxing into the rich taste and the anticipation of the caffeine induced energy boost she knew was imminent.

“Anytime.” Dorian’s smile was charming as he slid into place beside her as they headed to the corridor bearing both of their classrooms.

“I needed this,” Aelin spoke as they covered ground. “Rutting Fenrys rushed me out the loft so quickly this morning, something about an early meeting with Maeve, as if that’s somehow more important than coffee.”

Aelin shrugged as she finished, her main concern with the rush had been that she had missed out on her second cup of coffee this morning, but Dorian’s brow pulled in tight.

“Is he-” He cleared his throat as his walk slowed. “Is everything alright?”

Aelin slowed her pace to match the crawl Dorian had adopted and she tilted her head to the side to shoot him a look of confusion. It wasn’t like Dorian to stumble over his words.

“Yes, I think so,” Aelin began slowly. “He mentioned something about funding for a trip. For one of the sports teams maybe, I- Why are you blushing?”

A delightful, soft rose tint had graced the planes of Dorian’s high cheekbones. He turned away from her slightly but Aelin shot out a hand to grasp his bicep and pulled him back around to face her.

Aelin tugged him to a stop as she said, “Explain.”

Dorian brought a hand up to brush back one of the raven curls draped across his forehead. “I think I’m going on the trip too.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes, suspicion burying its hooks deep within her. “Why would you volunteer to go on a school trip outside of work time? And a sports trip at that.”

A flicker of expression shadowed his face before he carefully schooled it into calm. “Fenrys and I have been… speaking.”

Dorian phrased it like a question and Aelin’s mouth dropped open in an onset of shock.

“You and Fenrys speaking? Like… you and Fenrys?”

Dorian nodded. “I think so.”

“How did I not know this?” Aelin cried. “Is everyone keeping their relationship a secret from me?”

“Aelin,” Dorian began his walk again and she hurried to keep up. “It’s not a relationship, we’ve mostly just been texting. No big deal and-”

“It is a big deal,” Aelin interjected. She held her free hand up in surrender when he shot her an unimpressed look.

“It’s not a big deal, and it’s nothing serious.” He told her with an air of finality and she knew not to push it any further.

Aelin had known of their brief hook-up years before she had got the job at the school, but she had to admit she hadn’t expected anything more to bloom between the two.

It had, quite possibly, been a bit of an oversight on her behalf. She had noticed Fenrys perking up whenever Dorian was mentioned, and he had always found a reason to appear whenever she had brought Dorian around to the loft.

Even most recently in the hospital, he had jerked to attention the moment she had mentioned Dorian.

“You scoundrel,” She said with the beginnings of a wicked grin, unable to resist one last taunt. “Using a school funded trip as a romantic getaway with your man.”

Dorian only winked at her, “Would you expect anything less?”

Aelin laughed, the sound a sinful cackle. From Dorian and Fenrys? No, probably not.

“And,” He continued. “You can’t talk about keeping secrets. You’ve gone radio silent on Rowan recently, and I bet if anything bad had happened I would know about it.”

It was Aelin’s turn to blush. She hadn’t told anyone Rowan had asked her on a date yet. She had wanted to keep it just to herself for a little while, at least until after the date had occurred.

He had asked her out a couple of days ago now, but with Aelin working in the daytime and the majority of Rowan’s shifts being concentrated in the evenings, they were still yet to find a chance. Aelin was bursting with anticipation and she had struggled to sleep during most of the nights since their recent encounter in the kitchen.

An element of her insomnia was the excitement, her anticipation to finally be on a date with Rowan, but a large part, arguably the largest part, was the knowledge that Rowan slept just across the hall from her. It would be so easy for her to tiptoe across the space and into his room, into his bed, and to be faced with Rowan.

Rowan who she had now kissed, who she had been pressed up against, the heat of his body burning every inch of her own. But she knew she couldn’t cross that gap, both physically and metaphorically. At least not yet anyway.

Rowan had been the one to press the brakes on the two of them, and Aelin knew it was coming from a place of respect rather than a lack of desire, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t difficult to temper the part of her brain that wanted to throw all caution to the wind and-

“Damn,” Dorian laughed. “It must be really bad for you to end up that inside your own head.”

Aelin bit her lip. She hadn’t told anyone, not even Lysandra, but surely telling Dorian couldn’t hurt.

“Just promise me you won’t tell Fenrys.”

“Gods, that bad?” Dorian joked.

“It’s not bad, just don’t tell him.” She said simply.

Dorian nodded his agreement. “Promise.”

“It’s not bad at all,” She began with a coy smile. “He asked me on a date.”

Dorian’s returning smile was wide as he took her in. “Took him long enough,” was all he said with a slight laugh, before he continued, “When?”

“The weekend.”

Aelin knew she wore a doelike smile, one she couldn’t help at the thought of Rowan. She was excited, sue her. It felt like she had been waiting for herself and Rowan to reach this point since she moved into the loft, and their relationship had only gone from strength to strength since she moved in. It felt as if her anticipation was reaching the climax, but there was relief that went hand in hand with it.

Rowan was right along with her, treading steadily by her side as they stepped down the path of whatever it was that was coming their way.

He had been the one to kiss her, and the one to ask her on a date. Aelin knew where she stood with him, and where he stood with her, for the first time in what felt like a long time and the feeling was reassuring; it allowed her to relax into the excitement she held.

“What are you doing?” Dorian asked. “Something outdoors?”

“Why something outdoors?” Aelin laughed and Dorian shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know, seems to fit Rowan.”

Aelin laughed again, she knew Rowan enjoyed the outdoors, maybe slightly more than the average individual, but she wasn’t sure something like that was what he had meant when he had promised to plan something nice.

“No,” Aelin said, pausing to take a sip of her coffee. “I think we’re getting dinner.”

She still struggled to contain the smile that wanted to dawn, the joy that ran through her at the thought was almost childlike and free.

“The classic,” Dorian teased, but Aelin was unbothered. She truly didn’t care whether or not Rowan took her for a simple dinner or an extravagant adventure. Spending time with him was enough.

“Shut up,” She laughed, swatting the air between them. “I’ve got further than you.”

“Now that’s not exactly true, is it?”

Aelin snorted, almost spitting her drink across the hallway. Dorian’s smile was perfectly innocent, no sign of the act his comment was alluding to and she shook her head.

It wouldn’t be long, Aelin was sure, until she and Rowan were there too.

The week had dragged on for Rowan. A seemingly endless cycle of mindless shifts at the bar, and stealing snippets of time with Aelin in the loft during the limited hours they were both in the apartment. The time they shared had never seemed so brief as now when he craved her so.

Rowan had enjoyed those stolen moments, filled with the desire to simply reach out and touch. He longed to kiss her lips again, but he had promised he would only do so after their date.

He had settled himself to tracing his fingertips down the line of her hand, tracing the delicate lines and pathways of her veins beneath her golden skin. He had allowed himself the pleasure of tucking a rogue lock of hair behind her ear, and relished in the spark that bloomed within him when he lightly caressed his thumb down the shell of her ear.

Rowan longed for their date, and for the end of the night that would inevitably follow. The date itself was a long time coming to Rowan, and he didn’t wish to rush through it, he wanted to savour the moment and the image of Aelin sat beautifully across from him, but there was an impatience within him for the part that came after.

The part where he would finally allow himself the sweet touch of Aelin’s lips against his own once again.

He had managed to drift through the week, spurred on by the evernearing climax he could sense along the horizon. Rowan had managed to trade his Saturday night shift with an older bartender named Malakai in order to take Aelin out. The older man had only shaken his head, and assured Rowan to take the time he needed to treat his special lady.

Something about the comment had thrown Rowan somewhat. His lady. Aelin.

The idea was both exhilarating and terrifying. It filled him with warmth in his chest and a churning in his stomach simultaneously.

He fiddled with his collar as he scrutinised himself in the mirror. Rowan had been ready for a while, but the nervous energy within him was channelling itself into mindless motions and fluttering hands.

He had swapped his usual flannel and baggy jeans for a crisp, white shirt and a new pair of dark jeans. Smarter attire than usual, fitting for the occasion, but relaxed by the couple of buttons undone at the top of his collar. He had thrown a jumper over the shirt, hoping to fight off any of the approaching chill in the air of a late summer night in Adarlan.

They weren’t going far, but he wanted to make sure he was prepared.

He had chosen a relatively nice restaurant for their date, one only a couple of blocks from the loft, but he hadn’t wanted to go anywhere overly formal. He thought a more relaxed environment fit himself and Aelin better than something stiff and uptight.

There weren’t many secrets between them, living together and across the hall from each other didn’t allow for many to exist. He had chosen a setting for them to enjoy each other’s company, they didn’t need a candlelit dinner while they discussed their favourite colours, they didn’t need to sip champagne while they compared their careers.

Rowan had never been on a first date like it, he knew Aelin so well by now and truthfully, it didn’t feel much different than the dinners they had eaten together in the past. There was a level of comfortability between them that most of the usual first-date fears were absent.

Rowan felt as if his fears were different to those preceding a usual first date. This was Aelin, and he couldn’t bear to let her down. He wanted to make it special and a night that she would remember.

He had chosen to send her a text with the details, and he had heard her laugh through the walls when she had received it. It was exactly the response he had hoped to receive, and now he assumed she was tucked away in her bedroom getting ready.

It was almost time for him to cross the hall, and he was struggling to hold back. His foot had been tapping on the ground for a while and he pressed a hand to his knee, hoping to halt the pounding.

Finally he gave up, sure that five minutes wouldn’t make that much of a difference to Aelin anyway. He swung his door open and crossed the hall in a second to knock gently against Aelin’s door. Within a second she swung the door open and Rowan lost any attempt at a greeting.

He could only marvel as he took her in. Aelin looked truly phenomenal.

Her hair was curled and flowed down the length of her back, with the front tresses pinned back behind her ears. She wore a black dress covered in small, shining, golden stars that hit mid thigh leaving her toned legs on display until they tucked away into small black boots at her feet.

He knew from the gentle way she bit her lip she was waiting for him to speak and a whisper of a smirk crept up into the corner of her lips. Rowan cleared his throat.

“Hi.” His voice was rough, but Aelin’s smile dawned into a full smile. One Rowan knew he returned.

“Hi,” She mimicked, her voice soft.

He allowed himself the luxury of a moment to take her in. To track his eyes down her face and back up, taking in the brightness of the blue in her eyes, the flush of her skin and the shining golden highlights through her hair.

“Aelin,” He breathed. “You look incredible.”

Aelin preened at the compliment, her smile spreading even wider as she leaned to brace herself in the doorframe.

“Thank you, and you too.”

Rowan bit his lip at the appreciative look in her own eyes as she took him in. He fought the embarrassment that teased his senses at her appraisal and attempted to lean into the flattery that accompanied it.

“Ready to go?” He asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I’m curious where you’re taking me though,” She said with another easy smile as she turned to grab her small shoulder bag off her bed.

Rowan watched the motion and the glimpse of thigh the waves of her skirt allowed him as she spun. He couldn’t take his eyes off her and he couldn’t believe she had agreed to go on a date with him. Or the level of pure joy radiating from her at the prospect.

He straightened himself as something settled in his stomach at the thought. Aelin reached him again and he offered her an arm.

“You haven’t got much longer to wait before you find out; I’m not ruining the surprise now,” He told her as she slipped her arm around his own and stepped out of her bedroom.

“Do I look okay for where we’re going?” She asked, looking down at herself suddenly vulnerable.

Incredulity struck him, at the idea that Aelin could look anything less than perfect. He couldn’t hold himself back from dropping a faint kiss to the top of her head. “You look perfect.”

A beautiful cloud of rose dusted her cheeks and Rowan smiled again, he was sure this was the most he had smiled in a long time.

“So, dinner?” He asked as they stepped into the hallway by the door.

“Dinner,” Aelin agreed as she slipped her arm from his to slide into her coat.

“You guys are getting dinner?” Lorcan appeared in front of them and Rowan froze.

Only a moment later the front door to the loft opened at Rowan’s side and Aedion and Lysandra strode into the loft, tucked up in jackets from wherever they had been.

“Oh, hello,” Aedion laughed at the apparent welcome party. “Are we all heading out somewhere?”

Rowan cursed the gods as Lorcan spoke again. “Dinner.”

Aedion nodded appreciatively and looked to Lysandra who only quirked a brow. Rowan braced himself for Aedion to deliver the damning verdict. “Great, we’ll join.”

Rowan could only look to Aelin, unable to hide the mild panic he knew was stark on his face. Aelin looked back up at him, and from the twist of her mouth he knew she wasn’t thrilled, but was frozen in the same predicament he was in.

They couldn’t, or didn’t want to, reveal their exact plans for the night.

Rowan had wanted to keep this just for the two of them, at least for the night, and he knew Aelin felt the same.

“We weren’t going anywhere exciting,” He tried, and Aelin attempted her agreement at his side.

Aedion shook his head, still painfully oblivious. “No big deal, I’m not sure I’m up for anything too fancy now.”

“Is Fenrys coming?” Lorcan asked as he pulled on his trainers, and Rowan squeezed his hands lightly into fists at his sides. His head snapped to the side when he felt Aelin’s touch at his wrist, she linked her smallest finger through his own, tucked out of sight behind his back.

She looked up to him, a small smile across her painted lips accompanied by an amused look in her eyes, and he knew she was disappointed but he understood the gesture. He could feel his own annoyance fading into an amused acceptance, and he offered her a small closed-lipped smile of his own as he gazed down at her.

Rowan knew that dating Aelin would never be fully separate from their roommates, and even though he still needed to speak with Aedion he knew they would be supportive. He had just expected to make it through their first date before their roommates interfered.

He rolled his shoulders back and gave Aelin’s fingers a gentle squeeze, hoping to convey his disappointment through his touch. Her returning squeeze reassured him she was more than alright with the turn their night had taken.

He flashed her a soft smile before detangling their fingers and turning to face the group now assembled by the door.

“Someone get Fenrys, and quickly,” He instructed as he leaned into what the night had become.

Aelin had not expected to spend her first date with Rowan jammed in between her cousin and Lorcan in a booth at some chain restaurant downtown. She had expected a romantic evening, where the two of them would have had a chance to talk and drink and laugh. She had been looking forward to spending time with Rowan, and getting to know him as truly more than just her roommate, more than her crush.

She had been looking forward to watching him across from her, watching the way he talked and the expressions he made when he did. Rowan didn’t often get animated in a group, but around her he loosened his inhibitions, and she enjoyed watching him come alive.

She could never take her eyes off the way his hands would gesticulate as he spoke about something he was passionate about in the brief moments where he did. Sometimes it was the bar, sometimes it was sports and other times there were topics she had never expected from him. It was easy to forget that he had studied law at university, he liked to keep his intelligence understated, but there were times when it was hard to miss.

Aelin was a little disappointed to have missed out on the opportunity to enjoy that side of Rowan, but she was comforted by the fact she knew they would get to reschedule, and by the knowledge she was still going home with him tonight either way. She was also determined to get her kiss afterwards, whether or not this had managed to qualify as a date or not.

The small smiles he offered her over the table helped too. The smiles that said ‘we know something they don’t’ as their roommates chattered away around them.

She pursed her lips around her straw at him as Fenrys jabbed a fork aggressively at Lorcan and Lysandra cackled. They’re clueless, not sure how much we can blame them.

His own shake of his head as he bit back a laugh told her more than enough. I can blame those idiots as much as I want.

Aelin forced herself to take another drink to cover her laugh. Rowan’s eyes were sparkling and there was a lightness to his shoulders as she took him in as he lay back in his chair between Fenrys and Lysandra.

The shirt and jumper combination had thrown her the moment she had swung her door open. Rowan didn’t often dress fancy, in fact the only time she could remember seeing him in something other than his usual uniform of a flannel and jeans was at the wedding a few months ago.

The colour of his jumper over the top of his shirt did wonders for him, highlighting the tan of his skin and the brightness of his green eyes. Or maybe that was just Rowan.

She couldn’t remember a time where she hadn’t taken the opportunity to just observe him. To observe the beauty in the line of his brow, the handsomeness in the cut of his jaw. Her mouth had dried as she had watched him and she lifted a hand to take yet another sip of her water.

“Aelin?” Lysandra’s voice snapped her to attention.

“Yes?” She asked after taking a large sip.

“Was he as hot as Fenrys is making out?” It was only then she realised the attention of all those at the table was directed at her.

Rowan was hot, but Aelin wasn’t convinced that was who Lysandra’s question was regarding.

“Who?” Gods, she had been far too lost in Rowan to even attempt to follow the conversation at the table.

“The doctor, from the other day?”

Lysandra’s final question had taken on a different edge to the others, her voice soft and an unusual look in her green eyes. Surprise, intrigue, and an element of… was that suspicion?

Aelin cleared her throat and dared to look across to Rowan. His expression was carefully guarded, hidden was the amusement they had shared only moments before as he watched her from across the table.

He wasn’t the only one doing so. The others at the table, even Lorcan, had turned to her, each waiting for her response.

“Um, yeah. I guess.” Aelin had little interest in discussing the supposed ‘hotness’ of the doctor from the other day. She wasn’t even sure she knew where the paper with his number on had ended up.

“Damn, Aelin,” Aedion jeered. “Why’s he not here now then?”

Aelin flicked her eyes between Fenrys and Rowan. Fenrys was all too knowing. A twist at the corner of his mouth was the only visible hint of his discomfort, and she followed his gaze as it flicked to Rowan.

He wore a deliberately careful and mild smile as he watched her, and she hoped her expression conveyed the level of dismissal she gave to the doctor. If not, she hoped her words would convey exactly how she felt.

“I wasn’t interested,” She said plainly. “He was nice about it.”

“Not interested in a hot doctor?” Aedion scoffed. “At least go on a date, I can’t imagine how much luxury a doctor’s salary could get you. Probably at least champagne.”

Aelin laughed, a little weakly, desperately finding a way to change the subject. Rowan’s expression was a little less guarded, but she wanted him back to the amusement they had shared earlier.

She nudged his foot under the table with her own, and was beyond grateful when he returned the gesture with a small smile. The twinkle in his eyes had returned, if only a little dimmed.

Aelin sighed and allowed a slow smile to spread across her face. “If he’s so perfect Aedion, I might be able to set you up somehow.”

Her cousin only stuck his tongue out at her and she laughed, she heard the rest of the table laugh too.

“Sorry, Lys,” She said with a grin and her friend only shrugged.

“I know where I’m beaten.”

“Hey,” Aedion sounded offended at the thought and leaned across the table to press a kiss to his girlfriend’s cheek. Aelin smiled at the gesture and looked back to Rowan.

Soon.

Soon they’d finish dinner, and Aelin had plans for him.

The walk home had likely been his favourite part of the evening. They had split off into subgroups for the short walk back to the loft, Aedion and Lysandra walked ahead, their linked hands swinging in the space between them. As much as Rowan had disliked his friend’s teasing at dinner he was happy for his friend, and it was clear to him that Aedion’s relationship was serious. More serious than Rowan had seen Aedion before.

Lorcan and Fenrys had taken up the rear, debating something Rowan was deliberately tuning out as he enjoyed the feeling of Aelin tucked into his side. Her arm had wrapped around his own, her hand tucking into the crook of his elbow and her other hand reached across her body to hold the bicep of the arm she gripped.

It felt delightful to have her there, and he didn’t care about the looks Fenrys was throwing him. He knew what he and Aelin looked like, and he didn’t care. It felt good. Felt good that Rowan was here with Aelin like this. Not the doctor.

Rowan wasn’t petty enough to feel jealousy that the doctor the other day had given Aelin his number, or at least he thought. There was something in his stomach, the only thing that came close to bringing him out of this moment, that he couldn’t quite name. A feeling he couldn’t quite pin down.

They reached the loft having walked in relative silence, but it hadn’t been an awkward journey. It had been relaxed, and satisfied, and easy with Aelin.

They each went their separate ways once in the loft, and he led Aelin to the small stretch of hallway that housed both of their bedrooms.

This was the moment he had been waiting for all night.

She turned to him, releasing his arm as she bit her bottom lip slightly. Rowan couldn’t peel his eyes away until she finally spoke.

“That wasn’t quite what I expected,” She said with a soft laugh.

Rowan shook his head, laughing himself. “No, me neither. I will take you on a date properly soon, if you want to.”

He couldn’t stop himself from adding that last part. Aelin only tilted her head and took a step closer to him. She placed a hand gently on his chest as the smell of her surrounded Rowan. The fruity scent was enticing and he wanted to bury his face in her neck and breathe her in.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m still saying that tonight was our first date.”

Aelin was even closer to him now as she spoke and he raised a hand from his side to rest gently at her waist. The fabric of her dress slid between his fingers and he pulled her into himself slightly.

“Really?” He couldn’t help the tone of disbelief he used.

He hadn’t had a bad night, far from it in fact. He enjoyed spending time with his roommates, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to have lived with them for so long if he didn’t, but Rowan wasn’t sure he would have pictured their group dinner as his and Aelin’s first date.

“Yep,” She said, tilting her face up towards him and Rowan lifted his other hand to cup the back of her neck. His eyes were flickering up and down, an endless race between her eyes and her lips. “And I know what you promised me after our date.”

Rowan couldn’t help the wide smile he wore at her words. The realisation that she was as desperate as he was for their lips to touch again.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, rearranging his hand to rest more comfortably against the back of her head, his fingers slipping between the thick strands of her golden hair. “And what was that?”

Aelin lightly pinched his shoulder but rose up onto her tiptoes to finally press her lips to his.

Rowan could have sunk into this feeling forever. The spark that lit within him at her touch ignited, burning brightly as Aelin leaned even deeper into him, her lips opened in a soft gasp as her hand lifted from his shoulder to wrap around his neck.

Rowan breathed her in as he tasted her on his tongue. Aelin was divine, sweet and addictive. He chased her, wanting more and more and more. Too much wasn’t enough.

He only recognised that they had moved when the knuckles of his hand wrapped through her hair hit a solid surface. He had walked her backwards to the wall and at the realisation that he now boxed her in he drew back from her.

His breaths came fast and his heart was pounding ferociously in his chest as he gazed down silently at her. Aelin’s eyes fluttered open slowly as a broad smile bloomed.

Her cheeks were flushed from the kiss and Rowan risked one last press of his lips against her own. Unable to beat the urge to taste her again.

What he had intended to be a brush of lips Aelin stole control of. She locked her arms around his neck and held him to her, parting her lips for him again. Rowan took and took, unable to fight the desire building deep inside of him.

Aelin gasped against his lips as he removed his hand from her hair to hold her waist and lift her to him slightly. The sound sparked him, and he felt… He couldn't describe how he felt. He never wanted to stop, but Aelin’s gasp had reminded him where they stood.

Rowan pressed her against the wall in the hallway of the loft they shared with the others. They stood so wrapped up in each other that if anyone stumbled upon them denial would be an impossibility.

Rowan went to step back but Aelin rose forward and pressed one last gentle brush of a kiss against his lips before leaning back on her heels and releasing her arms from around his shoulders.

“Goodnight, Aelin,” He whispered, unable to muster anything more than a breathy whisper.

Aelin seemed in the same state as him. Her pupils were blown wide and her lips were a dusty shade of just-kissed pink. Rowan wanted to kiss her again.

“Night, Rowan,” She whispered, just as quietly as he had spoken.

Rowan took a step back and smiled down at her as she smiled up at him. He slowly backed across the hallway until he stood in front of his own door, his hand braced on the handle.

Aelin offered him a final, dreamlike smile before she slipped inside her bedroom. Rowan crept into his own and threw himself straight onto his bed.

His mind was blissfully restful as he lay, staring at the ceiling, replaying every touch he and Aelin had shared. His mind ran over all the details of their night, from the smile she had worn when she opened the door to greet him, to the feeling of her arm wrapped around his.

The unspoken words they had shared, wearing mutually knowing smiles, had warmed him and he fought off a smile at the thought.

She had rejected the mention of the doctor, quite outright, which relieved him, but the feeling from before had crept back into his stomach.

He still couldn’t place it, but as he lay, his thoughts came together, and he reached over to the side for his laptop. He sat himself up in bed, this wouldn’t take long, and typed a few words into the search bar of his browser.

tags:

@jesstargaryenqueen

@maybekindasortaace

@slytheringalathynius

@http-itsrebecca

@morganofthewildfire

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato

@fictional-horan

@tottenhamboys20

@dressedindustandshadows

@sleeping-and-books

@perseusannabeth

@ireallyshouldsleeprn

@superspiritfestival

@aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

@spyofthenightcourt

@jlinez

@queen-of-glass

@booknerdproblems

@sjmships

@elriel4life

@bamchickawowow

@woollycat22

@claralady

@illyrianwitchling

@SHINYA-HIIRAGI

@fangirlprincess09

@darlinminds

@bookittothelibrary1 <- this came up as the url please let me know it its not right

@thenerdandfandoms

@danibutterr

@inthecityair

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan x aelin #throne of glass #a groovy kind of love #agkol #i know this probably isn't what people were expecting lol #but I had a good time writing it #dorian havilliard #fenrys moonbeam #dorrys?#DORIS HAHAH #fenrian?#lorcan salvaterre #aedion ashryver #lysandra #lysaedion #rowaelin au

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ghostnebula · 4 years

Text

Sincere and Dignified

“Eddie's twenty-first birthday + The entire Losers' Club + Las Vegas + Being in love with your best friend = Well, exactly what you'd expect.”

[read it on Ao3]

(or here)

Eddie’s birthday is in November. Which makes him the youngest member of the Losers’ Club. Which makes him the last Loser to turn twenty-one.

Which means they go all-out to celebrate, since it’s the first time they can all (legally) celebrate together. And because they’ve kind of forgone “proper” twenty-first birthday festivities for everyone else, so no one would ever feel left out. Finally, no one needs to be left out of it.

They’ve all been living together for over three years now, they’re all getting close to graduating from college, and they all saved up for this one, because this is pretty much it. The last big, fun, tangible milestone in their young lives. The last “new” thing they’re earning the right to do (legally) after driving and voting. You bet your ass they go ham on Eddie’s birthday plans.

That’s how they end up in Vegas. Several long weeks of planning, lots of money they scraped together into jars over the last few years ready to be spent, checking and double-checking every class syllabus to make sure no one misses anything important on Friday (they have to be at their hotel in time for check-in or, between Stan and Eddie, someone will pitch a fit). Then they’re all piling into Ben’s station wagon with as little luggage as they could manage to bring for a weekend trip (the station wagon is “spacious”; it is not a fucking miracle vehicle).

Roughly ten hours later (five hours for driving, two for check-in plus cramming all their crap into the motel room and then attempting to organize it, one for figuring out and agreeing on where to even start with the partying, two more for getting ready) Eddie Kaspbrak has his first legal drink as a proper twenty-one year old, on this night of November third, and there’s no aftertaste of guilt like usual. He’s got Richie pushing shots into his hands, Mike making sure he’s eating some snacks once in a while so he doesn’t get too trashed too fast, Bev directing bartenders to make the most delicious fucking drinks he thinks he’ll ever taste in his life (Porn Stars, or something else inappropriate like that).

He has Bill, the oldest, practically under oath to stay sober (at least for tonight) so there’s one semi-coherent Loser present to keep the rest of them safe and sane until he can drag them all back to the motel.

He has a wad of cash in his pocket, a chunk of his savings from the past year, ready to blow on booze and gambling and whatever the fuck he wants, because it’s his birthday, so he’s allowed to do whatever the fuck he wants.

It’s safe, and more importantly, it’s legal, and most importantly, it’s Vegas. He never thought he’d ever have the balls to set foot in a place like this -- the kind of place his mother would demonize when he was a kid. Drinking, before he left Derry and his mom and the vice grip she had on his life, was completely out of the question, let alone getting hammered in a casino in Sin City, of all fucking places, under the care of the “evil little shits” he calls his best friends.

He more than lets loose. He lets twenty-one years of virtually non-stop anxiety unwind in one night.

When he wakes up the next morning, hung over for the first time in his life, it’s almost worth it. Bill’s the only motherfucker awake already, being that he’s the only one who doesn’t have several bottles of vodka et al. to sleep off, and he’s draped across the ratty arm chair in their ratty motel room, channel-surfing with the television volume as low as it can get. The light burns Eddie’s eyes, still, when he lifts his head and -- instead of turning, his head just kind of lolls on his shoulders until he can look at Bill properly.

He wants to ask him to end his suffering, which he can only assume he has yet to see the worst of. Suddenly he understands why aspirin exists. He wants Bill to pump him full of painkillers until he stops feeling like he’s made of electrified cotton. Instead, he says, articulately, “Guh.”

Bill turns his attention from Scooby-Doo to where Eddie is half-lying, trapped under the weight of Richie’s arm and half his chest. Richie is snoring away, glasses askew on his face, a cooling puddle of drool soaking Eddie’s shoulder. It’s gross, but he can’t really complain at this point. He’s accustomed to it by now.

“Ah, he lives.”

“Ugh,” says Eddie.

“I bet,” says Bill. “So, do you want a recap of the events of last night, or did you keep your promise and remember every life-altering decision you chose to make?”

Bill’s voice, which he’s hardly putting much effort into keeping down -- owing to the fact that all his effort is being channeled into trying not to laugh, and Eddie can’t even begin to fathom what’s so funny -- is causing the other Losers to stir. His splitting headache doesn’t want him to try to figure out what’s funny. He must have fried a metric shitload of braincells with all those Porn Stars last night, or whatever the fuck sugary booze Bev was pouring down his throat before everything went hazy.

“Life-altering?” he repeats after a few moments, as Richie’s arm finally stops crushing him. It’s the only word that really stands out to him in the jumbled mess of hangover discomfort his brain is fighting, and it should cause him anxiety but he’s more worried, right now, about drinking some water. Richie sits up beside him, yawning.

Bill hums. He looks terribly pleased with himself, which can be good or bad depending which side of the story you’re on, and Eddie’s got this sneaking suspicion he’s on the wrong side, here. “Yeah, that life-altering thing I tried to talk you two dipshits out of for longer than the actual ceremony took?”

“Ceremony?” Eddie asks, trying to feel back through his poor, poor brain to remember anything after slot machines and vibrant chatter and deceptively sweet beverages being passed to him. Richie’s head drops onto his shoulder as his arms wrap around Eddie’s waist. “Guh,” he says into the fabric of Eddie’s rumpled shirt. Habitually, Eddie reaches up to pat him consolingly on the head. Richie’s not one for mornings.

“Why don’t you take a look at your ring finger, birthday boy?” Bill says, but Eddie’s already frozen, because there was a flash when he raised his hand and he’s not entirely sure he’s believing what he’s seeing, and where the fuck did he even get the ring anyway, let alone a ring as nice as this? “Or, sorry, I should say: Mr. Tozier?”

Eddie... mostly ignores him, in favour of smacking Richie a few times on the skull to get his attention, hangovers be damned. “Richie,” he hisses, heart going a mile a minute. “The fuck did I do?”

Richie grumbles some kind of complaint, lifting his head from its safe space on Eddie’s shoulder, and when he follows Eddie’s gaze he lets out a kind of... laugh? More of a squawk, really. His left arm jerks off of Eddie’s waist lightning-quick, and then he’s holding up his own hand beside Eddie’s to show off their matching rings. “Oh my god,” he says, quiet (for Richie). A little bit of tension melts out of him. Then, “I think you mean, ‘the fuck did we do?’”

“Oh my god,” Eddie squeaks, and Bill loses his battle and dissolves into peals of laughter, remote slipping out of his hands and landing somewhere on the floor. “Bill, you were supposed to be babysitting.”

It takes a while, but Bill manages to regain his composure long enough to say, “Well forgive me, but you were a man on a mission. I distinctly remember a lot of, ‘we’re practically dating anyway’ and ‘no time like the present’ and ‘Bill, if you don’t step the fuck off I’m gonna shove this ring so far up your nostril you’ll be sneezing gold until you’re ninety.’ What was I gonna do about it?”

“Oh my god,” Eddie says again, red-faced, mortified, heart still going-going-going. They aren’t dating, though, is the problem, and yeah, he’s always had this stupid little idea in his stupid little head that they might as well be, but he’s never asked, because he wasn’t sure if he should. Wasn’t sure if it was safe. Wasn’t sure if Richie wanted something proper or to just stay very, very close friends until the grave. They weren’t dating, and now they’re married, and ohJesusMaryandJoseph why did he let himself get so drunk last night?

He doesn’t expect Richie to be resentful or anything, but he’s also an anxious mess by default, and post-drunken-haze Eddie is a different, apparently less chill person than mid-drunken-haze Eddie, because he doesn’t remember having this freakout last night.

He doesn’t think that Richie will be pissed about it, necessarily, but he’s terrified that Richie’s going to want to... undo this, somehow.

He expects regret.

He doesn’t expect Richie to slide his hand against Eddie’s so that their rings clack together, letting out a soft little, “Aw,” as he does so, or to press his scratchy, stubbly face against Eddie’s cheek to plant a kiss there, or to say, just as quiet and soft as ever, “We’re married, Eds.”

“Is that okay?” Eddie asks, heart in his throat, wondering if he somehow forced Richie into this when he wasn’t in full control of his faculties.

“More than okay,” Richie says. “Is it okay with you?”

Eddie nods dumbly, staring at their rings again, wondering what the fuck possessed them to make such a rash, life-altering decision like this, yet understanding all too well that his love for Richie is too big to contain and it has to spill out in little doses like this, or it’ll probably kill him, or make him go crazy. “Yeah,” he says finally, nodding perhaps too fast. “Yeah, Richie, it’s more than okay.”

He turns in Richie’s arms to kiss him properly, apparently not for the first time, and just the action brings a couple snippets of last night’s escapades abruptly to the surface.

“$25 Weddings,” a pink neon sign outside a squat white chapel proclaims, “Sincere and Dignified.” And below that, in smaller, baby blue lettering: “Can provide: Flowers, Rings, Witnesses, Transportation, Attire...” The list goes on. It’s a wonder Eddie is coherent enough to read it, let alone comprehend it, but he’s rounding on Richie, whose arm he’s hanging off of, with the best fucking idea already leaping from his lips.

“Ffffffuck Kaspbrak,” Eddie slurs as a reluctant Bill helps him slip on a suit jacket, fiddling with the purple clip-on bowtie Richie threw over the divider at him. “Fuck Kaspbrak, right, Rich?”

“Right,” Richie says enthusiastically -- probably too enthusiastically -- from the other side of the thin wooden divider that separates their “changing rooms.”

“Fuck that name,” Eddie decides, nodding to himself. Bill takes the bowtie out of his hands with a sigh, and Eddie lifts his chin to let Bill fasten it to his shirt, grumbling all the while about how stupid they both are. “And fuck my mom.”

“Fuck your mom!” Richie shouts. There’s a beat of relative quiet, then, “Not, like, fuck your mom, obviously. Fuck... you, maybe?” And then Bev’s raucous laughter echoes through the whole room.

Eddie can’t help laughing with her, even though Bill’s insisting he stay still “so you can at least look semi-presentable for your pictures, c’mon, Eddie, this is a big moment for me, too.”

“How are you the bridezilla, here, Bill?”

“Could you please just work with me here, I swear to-- agh!” (More laughter from Bev. Stan saying something incomprehensible but loud and boisterous. Mike trying to shush them.) “I’m just trying to make sure this is actually special since you absolute buffoons refuse to just wait and do this right.” Is Bill fucking crying?

Richie’s tongue down Eddie’s throat, over and over and over: in the chapel; in a bar; in front of the bar; just before Bill drags them away from the casino they’re trying to sneak back into and instead towards the station wagon he’s doing his best to herd the Losers to; in the station wagon; in front of the motel.

Bill prying them apart with minimal assistance from a piss-drunk Ben who insists he’s “helping,” telling them once again that they are not allowed to consummate their fucking marriage in public, and especially not allowed to do it in the motel room all seven of them have to sleep in--

He hears Bev’s little “aww” behind him somewhere as he and Richie break apart, and Stan’s grief about how fucking early it is “for this shit.” Eddie can hear something like a smile in his voice, if not just plain old amusement.

“We’re married, Rich,” Eddie repeats incredulously, and Bill is saying something about their marriage license in his wallet because neither of them can be trusted, but Eddie couldn’t care less about licenses or whatever, because Richie’s smiling down at him in that way that makes his heart feel too full. And he doesn’t mean to, but a choked noise bubbles up out of him, almost a sob, maybe a laugh. Tears burn in his eyes.

But that’s alright, because Richie’s crying already, and he wraps himself bodily around Eddie, rolling them over so he’s squishing him into the mattress while he kisses all over his face and his throat until Eddie’s squealing with laughter despite his agonizing hangover. He almost feels too good to care about it now, but he’s definitely getting some water and painkillers into his system the second the weird high he’s feeling subsides.

“Okay, okay,” says Stan, standing above them suddenly, swatting at Richie’s shoulders. “You’ve had your fun. Noisy assholes. We were too drunk for proper congratulations last night. Move over.”

All the Losers squeeze themselves onto the queen bed, somehow, and water bottles and aspirin get passed around. At some point Bill gets up to start the coffeemaker and comes back with (good fucking lord) their “wedding photos” in a crisp manila envelope. They’re just as gaudy as he expected. Leave it to Richie to find the ugliest possible outfit for his literal wedding.

Eddie gets hugs and shoulder-squeezes and cheek-kisses from everyone, over and over, and Bev actually cries for about ten full minutes while she holds him, then at least ten more while she holds Richie, and then Ben cries, and... well, they all end up crying all over each other, but it’s awash with joy. “We’re happy for you,” they keep saying, and Eddie’s happy for them, too. He didn’t expect to accidentally do things this way, but he has to be glad it happened.

“God,” he says a while later, shaking his head as he sips sugary coffee from the mug he and Richie are sharing (this room is meant for four people, max, not seven, and is equipped accordingly). He’s still examining a picture of Richie attempting to give him a piggy-back ride out of the chapel. Bill is visible in the background, eyes red and puffy, a wad of tissues clenched in his hand while Mike tries to console him. Eddie has been making fun of him for about half an hour now. “My mom would flip if I told her about this.” But the thought doesn’t scare him. He doesn’t get scared of her anymore. Not like he used to. Not when he’s so far away and he feels so safe with these six idiots who bring so much joy to his life.

Richie’s thumb rubs over the skin of his lower back where his hand has crept up Eddie’s shirt. “Good thing you don’t have to,” he says, and that familiar mantra of “You never have to see her again,” bleeds through, plain as ever.

Eddie hums. Passes the coffee back to him. “I know. But... I kinda want to. Just to watch her head explode,” he says with a shrug and a grin, earning a chorus of easy laughter from his friends. He stares at the ring on Richie’s finger as Richie throws back the rest of their coffee, something warm and familiar blooming brighter in his chest.

#reddie #my writing #oh look i actually found time in the chaos of my life to post this #a miracle #also a fic short enough to just post the whole thing on tumblr???#a second miracle #the losers club #cw alcohol #cw gambling #vegas wedding babey

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babbushka · 4 years

Note

Hands brushing unexpectedly with Paterson? 💕

It’s been a slow day, Paterson thinks. The middle of the week tended to be a low traffic kind of atmosphere, especially compared to the busyness of the weekend. Thursdays weren’t too terrible, he had a couple passengers, so it doesn’t feel too much like a waste of gas just going around in circles the way he does.

He likes it when it’s busy, likes overhearing the snippets of the world around him as people chat with friends, family, the phone, strangers they meet.

But, but but but, he loves when it’s empty because then he can talk to you.

He’s passed your stop three times so far, and every time he tries not to get his hopes up too high. You’re pretty habitual, but he knows you’re a person and sometimes you don’t need to take the bus, don’t need to take his bus.

Still, still he holds his breath every time as he pulls up to your stop.

He’s holding his breath now, and the sight of your familiar yellow coat flips a switch in his brain. Joy floods through him, pure and simple joy, happiness like he can sometimes forget that he knows how to feel. You’re an angel, a mirage in the desert, you and that smile of yours. Yellow is suddenly his favorite color.

Giddy, he tries his best to stop the bus smoothly, opens the door with a hissss of the airlock. The few passengers that had been on the bus get off, and you’re the only one who comes aboard, you’re the only two people on the bus now. You’re smiling, just as pleased to see him as he is to see you.

You extend a hand, and Paterson doesn’t know why, but he reaches for it. His large fingers brush up against yours, and the touch jolts you both. You’ve never touched one another before, never had the pleasure of an opportunity to do so.

Paterson realizes too late that you weren’t asking for his hand, you were trying to drop the bus fare into the little meter. Your eyes are wide, and he mistakes the expression for offense.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Paterson blushes bright red, withdrawing his hand at once.

“No!” You say quickly, quick enough that it makes Paterson’s heart do small jumps in his chest. “No, it’s alright.”

You both stare at one another, the bus door is still open. Rain begins to drizzle outside, and Paterson worries that you’ll get your pretty coat wet, so he closes it as gently as the mechanism will allow.

Sitting down in the closest seat to him, you open the container you’ve been holding. It’s one of those old Pyrex dishes, yellow to match your coat, and Paterson’s heart clenches, because he wants to know you, wants to know everything about you.

Every time you come onto his bus he learns something new, and he stores it all in the back of his head, writes a thousand poems about it, about you. He longs for the day where he can tell them to you, where you might read them, might smile at him while he reads them to you.

For now though, you’re offering the Pyrex to him. Inside are chocolate chip cookies that look like they belong in a bakery.

“They’re still warm.” You encourage with a smile, and Paterson turns around in his seat to take one gratefully. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like chocolate chip, you should’ve seen me Mr. Paterson, agonizing over it.”

He blushes again, you always call him Mr. Paterson, always. No matter how many times he corrects you, you insist that no, he deserves the respect of the honorific.

“You’ve made this grey day much brighter, I don’t know how I can repay you.” He replies shyly around a mouthful of ooey gooey chocolatey joy.

You seem to know though, seem to have something at the ready, and you jump at the chance to let it loose.

“I’m not sure what time you’re finished with your shift today, but I’ve had to cancel some dinner plans. I’d hate for everything to go to waste, maybe, if you’d like, you might come keep me company.” You offer, looking at him hopefully through the rear-view window. You smile at him, “Brighten my evening.”

“That can be arranged.” He grins, looking right back at you through the little mirror and pulling the bus out onto the street, away from the stop.

You don’t say anything more, only letting your hands brush together once more when you exit the bus fifteen minutes later, a little slip of paper passed from your fingers to his. An address written in blue ink, with a small heart underneath.

And when the shift is over, and he shows up at your apartment, dressed in his most semi-formal-yet-casual clothes, with a bouquet of flowers in his arm, and you open the door with the most radiant smile he’s ever seen on a person before, he’s sure that there can’t be a brighter spot in all of Jersey.

#paterson #paterson x reader #paterson/reader #paterson x you #paterson/you #paterson imagine #paterson fluff #adam driver character #adam driver #clumsycopy #cowboy answers

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bourbon-ontherocks · 4 years

Note

20 26 39!

Ooooh these are so great, thank you!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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

Mwahaha, I literally just posted an almost 10k words chapter and you're still hungry?? Okay, so here are the first paragraphs of this Fitzpatrick story I'm working on (it's his POV):

He's a man of rules. Always have. There's nothing more satisfying than the certitude that things will happen exactly as planned. Wake up every morning at 7:15 precisely. Always wash his hands twice. Never talk shop on an empty stomach. Little things that provide anchoring in life. That's probably what drew him to accountancy in the first place. Rigid columns of numbers, irremovable rules carved in the granite of modern treasury.

Something which may sound boring to many people. But when others see complications he sees appeal. Opportunities. He likes his world obeying a set of rules. And that's when people start deviating from these that troubles come.

Take what's happening with the Boland case for example. But -- later on that.

Because today is not about work. Today is a day off. Today, it's been exactly ten years since Mary died.

26. Standalone or series, and why?

I feel like I already answered a similar question a few weeks ago but I'm too lazy to look for my original post right now so I'll answer again, hopefully with new elements.

I started writing with series (I assume series means long fics here? Or are we talking about AO3 series which are a collection of fics? Am I questioning this too far? Does that even answer the question?) and as much as I like having space to develop a plot, have a wider range of characters and interactions, sow hidden clues everywhere, finish every chapter with a cliffhanger, I... am getting tired of it.

I mean, I generally love it at the beginning, but then at some point, once I've finished plotting the whole thing, I guess that the idea of having to write it is just stressful more than anything? Take the chapter from It's All Coming Back To Me that I posted last night for instance. I imagined its last scene (dialogue included) mid-January (I remember it distinctly because it was during a weekend I spent in London, I was walking along the Thames when... Nevermind). Mid-January!!!!! 😱😱😱

It was five months ago, and the thing is, during those five months, my brain has discovered new fic interests so it's really hard to pull my mind back at writing this fic because it's like, "Oh come on, I've finished planning this story already!". Like, I'm super happy with the chapter I posted, and I'll never abandon an unfinished story, but I don't know, it's been months since I've known exactly what happens in this fic, and all I have to do is write it now but my brain is more excited with newer projects (also I didn't plan to finish this story widely after S3 aired, and I generally like to stick to canon, which makes this story actually obsolete? Idk). The point is, I'm not spitting on this story at all, I still love it a lot and I enjoyed writing this chapter, and I'll enjoy writing the last one. It's just getting harder to get back in the right mindset as I'm dragging it along.

So no more long series for me at the moment, I think.

On the other hand, standalone stories... I started writing some one-shots while S3 aired, as a catharsis. And I very much enjoyed it. But if you look closely, you'll notice that I got growingly incapable of not adding a second chapter to them. That's exactly what happened with Take A Dip tbh. And I think that currently, this is my jam. I love that diptych structure with a cliffhanger in the middle, I think that the duality really allows for some contrast! You can switch POV to bring a different reading on the event (Don't Steal From Me, Something You Love) shift the mood and spice things up (Moose Hunting), or bring a resolution to all the threads that were pulled in the first chapter (what will happen in Take A Dip). And obviously, this is the perfect structure for mirrors and parallels which, as you may know, I'm a slut for! 😂😂😂😂

Obviously I'm not going to write only two-chapters stories from now on. The Fitzpatrick one will probs be a long one-shot, a la Four Seasons In One Day (am I just challenging myself with citing all my fics in one ask??), while the CXG crossover, which WILL be out someday, will probably be a collection of loosely related chapters.

But that's the kind of thing I currently tend to. Although who knows, maybe six months from now I'll be all about 20-chapters monster fics haha!!

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

Mhhhh, not really, I guess? I mean I already base my characters on a TV show, so... And as for the (very few) OCs I wrote, I don't think I did either. Maybe I based them on other characters from other universes, but I'm not sure that I'd feel comfortable with basing anything I write on real people. Not yet, at least. I think that I wouldn't feel free to do whatever I want with such characters, it would be too... involving? Idk if that makes sense, though.

Ask me writing things!!

#sothischickshe #ask #asking games #writing #fanfic #about me

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charlotte-codes · 5 years

Text

This, Charlotte, is the internet ...

It was September 30th: day one, week one.

I cycled across Bristol that Monday morning with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. I am not a seasoned city cyclist, so crossing the leviathan of roadworks at rush-hour was my first test.

Arriving at the DevelopMe offices unscathed, I quickly found my seat. Although we’d all met the week before at a social event organised by DevelopMe (a brilliant idea because I was less nervous having already met some of my fellow classmates) the room was very quiet and you could feel the tension of 12 career-changers psyching themselves up for what was ahead.

Our teacher for the week was Keir, whose enthusiasm and sense of humour made us all feel relaxed and at home very quickly.

We started with a brief introduction to the internet.

Now, I knew that the internet was not contained in a small black box à la the IT Crowd, but I had never really considered its complexity: a global network of computers that can communicate with one another at sub-second speeds is something that takes a while to get your head around.

Although the fundamentals of the internet are fairly easy to digest, thinking about it too much at this point in my understanding is like thinking about the expanding universe - enough to make my brain explode and ooze out of my ears. So, we’re gonna leave that one for another day.

In the meantime, let’s talk about HTML and CSS, our topics for the first fortnight. This post will be an overview of what we learnt, I’ll get into the details in separate posts later on.

HTML (Hypertext Markup Language)

The phrase that has stuck in my mind from our first week at bootcamp is ‘Progressive Enhancement and Graceful Degradation’ - which sounds suspiciously like a general life lesson, or an advert for a skincare range. For our purposes, it’s a way of making sure that every user can access the fundamental parts of your website no matter what browser they use or how slow their internet connection.

The first few days concentrated on writing HTML, which contains the important ‘content’ of the webpage. CSS is used to make it look good and also deals with accessibility. We’ll get into Javascript later, but that allows user interactivity. All three together constitute Front End development. My beginners understanding of this is that a Front End specialist works on the client-side stuff you see and interact with - whilst a Back End specialist works on the server-side stuff you don’t. A Full Stack developer does both.

In terms of HTML, you can split your code up like a human body: at the top is a <head> tag wherein you store all the metadata. Just like a human head, you can’t see what’s going on in there on the webpage itself, but it contains important behind-the-scenes information. The part of the page you see online is the <body> and you can dress this up however you want using CSS.

Within the body you’ll probably have a <header>, a <main> and a <footer>, which are fairly self-explanatory ways to break up a page. A lot of this stuff comes from traditional methods in printing, so if you imagine your page layout a bit like a newspaper, then considering how to split it up seems logical: for instance, you’ll probably further divide your page up into articles, sections and asides.

Within these sections you’ll have tags for various elements like paragraphs <p>, images <img/>, links <a>, headings <h1>, <h2>, buttons <button> and so on: again, it’s all wonderfully logical. Here’s some I wrote earlier - this is just part of the <header> on my home page:

The above example is also styled and for the majority of the first fortnight of bootcamp we got to grips with CSS.

CSS (Cascading Style Sheets)

CSS is a little trickier, mainly because there are SO MANY THINGS and you have to think about accessibility and responsiveness (i.e how a screen-reader will understand your code and what it will look like on desktop and mobile devices - this requires the use of @media queries, which I’ve grown to really like because it is SO satisfying when they work properly).

Potentially one of the biggest challenges I found in CSS was positioning things evenly. When you start fiddling about with margins and padding, and forgetting what you’ve fiddled with, you start seeing issues arising on the page: maybe it’s an <h2> that just won’t align with the image underneath; or maybe it’s a <nav> bar that is squishing all the menu items too close together, and pushing them all a little off-centre.

Now, I’m mildly neurotic when it comes to visuals. I’m trained in visual analysis and I’ve spent the best part of the last decade explaining the composition of paintings and other images - why they have a central focal point, or why they don’t etc. etc. Positioning stuff correctly and with meaning is important to me.

So I became particularly enamoured with flexbox and CSS grid (and not just because I enjoyed playing Flexbox Froggy and Grid Garden). These do a large percentage of the positioning legwork for you and I found myself using them a lot for the project work that we did in the second week.

Some excellent resources for these can be found here:

https://css-tricks.com/snippets/css/a-guide-to-flexbox/

https://css-tricks.com/snippets/css/complete-guide-grid/

Week 2: More CSS and SASS

In week 2 we worked on a sample project.

The brief was to practice our HTML and CSS skills by building a pretend portfolio site for a commercial photographer. Our teacher this week was Ruth, who was also super cool and put us all at ease instantly.

The project consisted of a home page with a grid of featured photos and a nav that turned into a burger menu when reduced to a small screen. We also had to create a gallery page, a blog page (and a sample page for one blog post) and a contact page (to practice HTML forms).

One of the main focuses of week 2 was using SASS to organise our code so that we didn’t have to repeat ourselves throughout the site.

At first I didn’t get on with SASS (it felt complicated). But being a fan of flexboxes, I spent some time creating a mixin that I was particularly proud of so that I didn’t have to create new flexboxes all the time (a mixin is like a function that can be reused by passing values into the variables - in this case, $justify, $align and $flexDirection):

Turns out SASS is super useful.

And being a bit of a neat freak, I enjoyed putting all my code into separate files and tidying everything up.

I was pretty proud of my site by the end of the week:

home page ... big screen

two sample posts on the blog page ...

Every Friday, we have an individual review with one of the course organisers so that we can discuss how we are getting on. Both weeks I mentioned that I was tired, but in a good way! I was getting great feedback from my teachers too.

So far, so good.

Downtime

Learning new information day after day is super tiring and it’s important to have a break at the weekends.

So I’ve been kind to myself and made sure I get out into nature on Saturdays and Sundays and away from my desk. The temptation just to work through is there all the time - I love what I’m doing, so it doesn’t feel like work and I have to drag myself away from it in the evenings and at weekends. This can only be a good thing though, right?!

The entire cohort are so friendly and everyone gets on really well. A few of us finished the first fortnight with a celebratory drink at Bocabar.

Next week ... Javascript ... bring it on!

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plague-of-insomnia · 5 years

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Sebciel Drabble - Excerpt from “Circus” AU

So I was feeling really low this weekend and decided I’d try to write some fluff or PWP to cheer me up and ofc this came out instead, which is neither.

It’s a slice from an AU I'm working on (tentatively titled Circus). It's likely to be a dark, complex story. In it, Joker runs an escort agency called Circus. Sebastian, now almost thirty, has been working for him as an escort and fixer for years and knows he’s going to probably have to retire from the former soon. Ciel is in his twenties and the two of them have been dating for some time by the present point of the story. Seb, Finny, and Ciel share an apartment. I don’t know the full details yet, but Finny and probably Ciel also work for Joker in some capacity, though Sebastian has insisted Ciel go to school (since that was always Ciel’s dream). Lau is the big antagonist of the story whom both Seb and Ciel have a personal vendetta against, though I don’t want to go into more detail as that’d be a big spoiler (and isn’t necessary for enjoying this little snippet).

This scene is basically just Sebastian and Ciel talking over dinner. There's some heat and nudity, but no sex, sorry.

I thought about putting this on AO3, but honestly I have no idea if this scene will make it into the final story since it's still in the early stages. But this is probably relatively early in, probably within the first few chapters.

Anyway, enjoy, and if you liked it (and want me to post more of my in-progress stuff on here) please let me know by liking/commenting/reblogging!

_____________

“Seb? I’m home,” Ciel called as he entered the apartment.

“In the kitchen.”

Ciel followed the delicious aroma, dumping his bag on the couch before wandering over to his boyfriend.

Sebastian stood at the stove, using cooking chopsticks to stir something sizzling away in a wok. He had borrowed some of Finny’s bobby-pins to keep his long bangs out of his eyes while he cooked, and they shone when he moved and caught the light just right, the colored metal standing out sharply amidst his ink black hair. He was dressed in old, faded, low-hanging jeans that were fitted but from before the skinny fad, with holes everywhere, including a large one that started at the bottom of his right back pocket and expanded across his lower butt, revealing a muscled, pale cheek. Unsurprisingly, Sebastian was going commando. He was bare from the waist up except for an apron (hot oil on bare nipples was a lesson he’d learned the hard way).

Ciel took a moment to appreciate the line of his boyfriend’s back, the shift and slide of skin and muscles in his shoulders as he moved, the hint of his tattoo peaking above the waistband of his jeans. A stereotypical pronged devil’s tail along his tailbone that curled down and over his currently covered left ass cheek. He took his persona seriously. Sometimes too seriously. “Whatcha cooking?”

Seb paused to lean over and press a kiss to Ciel’s head when he grew closer. “‘Use up all the leftovers in the fridge’ fried rice.”

Ciel snagged a carrot from the cutting board and popped it in his mouth, humming appreciatively. Sebastian knew what it was like to starve, and so he was ruthless in making sure they had almost no food waste. More impressive than that was how delicious his meals could be, no matter the ingredients. Sebastian was such a talented cook, Ciel had tried to convince him more than once to enroll in culinary school with no success. As confident and domineering as Sebastian could seem, the truth was he didn’t see himself as worth much more than being a whore and a thug.

“How was class?”

Ciel gathered the cutlery and bowls as Sebastian added the finishing touches to the rice. “Eh. We have to write a business plan.”

Sebastian accepted the bowls, one at a time, filling them with fried rice.

“Finny isn’t eating with us?”

Sebastian shook his head. He’s training with Bard, and then he has clients so he said not to worry about him; they’d grab something.”

Ciel nodded absently and followed his boyfriend to their small table, where they both began to dig in. “Awesome as always,” Ciel said with a grin as he gathered some more spoonfuls.

Sebastian smiled fondly and picked at his own meal.

That didn’t escape Ciel’s notice, but he said nothing. “Anyway, I was thinking of doing this idea I’ve had for awhile, but it’s probably stupid.”

“You’re brilliant, so I doubt that,” Sebastian assured Ciel, his unusual mahogany eyes showing nothing but pure sincerity. Ciel had fallen in love with Sebastian years before they’d acknowledged it partly because of the taller man’s sometimes brutal honesty. He could be duplicitous and a flatterer while in his Luci persona, but Sebastian himself preferred to lay everything out on the table.

Ciel blushed and took a bite of food to give him time to stall and figure out how to formulate what he wanted to say. “I want to start a toy company that makes toys designed for sick kids. Stuff that’s easy to disinfect and resistant to allergens, that’s compact so they’re easy to bring to a doctor’s appointment or when in the hospital. Stuff that will help comfort and distract kids who are in pain or not feeling well.” Ciel blushed again and ducked his head.

The slate-haired man felt fingers cradle his chin and direct it back up so that he was looking at Sebastian, who was leaning in almost too-close as he was overly fond of doing. “That’s a wonderful idea. I would probably start a knife company or a sex toy company.”

“Or something to do with cats,” Ciel grumbled good naturedly.

Sebastian chuckled. “Maybe a whole line of cat-themed dildos and butt plugs.”

“You and cats and your oversexed brain. No one wants to think of their cat when they’re masturbating.”

Sebastian shrugged with a playful smile. Then he leaned nearer and planted a chaste kiss on Ciel’s lips, but it soon turned heated when the smaller man stuck his tongue out to taste Sebastian’s own lips, soy sauce and ginger making Ciel’s mouth water.

Ciel didn’t have much to compare him to, but in his mind Sebastian had to be the world’s most fantastic kisser. He’d never truly given it a chance, but he was almost certain that—especially if he were backed up—he could come just from kissing.

Sebastian held Ciel’s face in a way that was both possessive and tender, nibbling on Ciel’s tongue in a way that went straight to the smaller man’s cock.

Ciel leaned into the kiss, chasing Sebastian, who always seemed to escape to continue dominating the kiss. Typical, but still frustrating. Knowing how to distract him, the smaller man splayed his hands on the larger’s chest, scraping a fingernail along Sebastian’s bare nipple.

Sebastian growled, but instead of escalating or allowing Ciel to control the kiss, he pulled back, his blown pupils, erect nipples and half chubby tenting his pants the only indication they’d made out at all. His look was distant, and his breathing even when he said, “We should finish eating.”

Ciel nodded absently, reaching down to readjust his own hard-on so he could sit more comfortably, and picked up his spoon again. “You all right?”

Sebastian smiled, but it was forced and fake and it pissed Ciel off. “Fine.”

The slate-haired man grunted. “You know, you could still go. To school.”

Sebastian scoffed as he stabbed a piece of chicken with a chopstick, fisted in one hand like a knife. “It’s too late for me.”

“You always say that. But it’s not. There are people in their thirties and forties in my classes.”

Sebastian looked away, intently focused on his food, although he was mostly stirring the rice around without eating it. “Ciel, I’m not like you. I was born into this life. I don’t belong in the light.”

“Seb—”

“What I did to you and Finny, that’s technically kidnapping, you know.”

“That was years ago. And you didn’t kidnap us, you rescued us!”

Sebastian sighed and set his chopsticks down, clearly having lost whatever little appetite he had. “Not in the eyes of the law. You don’t know what I’ve done. What I do for Joker. I’m not a good person.”

Ciel sputtered, trying to argue, but Sebastian talked over him.

“I have a fifth-grade education.”

“Only officially. But you’re smart and you’ve taught yourself a lot. I bet if you tried you could get your GED—”

“Enough,” Sebastian snarled, eyes flashing. Ciel didn’t see him angry often, but he could be truly terrifying when he was; it was almost as if his irises glowed red.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” the younger man demanded, indicating Sebastian’s bowl with his spoon. The taller man had often insisted Ciel and Finny clear their plates, reminding them they never knew when that meal needed to last them for days. Sebastian always ate, even if he didn’t seem to be hungry.

For a moment, when their eyes met, Ciel thought Sebastian was going to come clean. But instead, he just shook his head and pushed to his feet. “I’m going for a run. I’ll eat something after.”

Ciel jumped up and rushed to meet him on the way to their bedroom. “Don’t do this. Come on.”

Sebastian ignored his boyfriend and unbuttoned his jeans, kicking them off as he pulled on a cutoff shirt. “I just need to clear my head. I told you I’m fine.”

Ciel forced his way between Sebastian and the dresser, not letting the man’s washboard stomach, toned thighs or long, thick cock distract him from his purpose. “I know I’m not the only one with nightmares. I know that you can’t sleep more often than not. I know you stand out on the balcony for hours with that lighter and pack of cigarettes you keep in the top shelf of the closet, thinking about lighting up.” The taller man had quit not long after bringing Finny and Ciel home, after the doctors explained cigarette smoke was triggering to Ciel’s lungs. The smaller man looked up, trying to meet his boyfriend’s eyes, but Sebastian had shut them. “You’re not a robot, Seb. You can talk to me. I’m not a child anymore. You don’t need to protect me.”

Sebastian sighed heavily. He pulled the pins from his hair and shook out his bangs, carding his fingers through the strands to rearrange them. He darted a hand around Ciel and managed to yank open a drawer enough to grab a pair of shorts. He slipped them on before Ciel could complain. He stood for a long moment, hands on his hips, bare stomach expanding and relaxing with each breath.

Ciel held his ground, shifting to stand between Sebastian and the door as a wordless way to indicate he wasn’t letting his boyfriend go without a fight. The smaller man folded his arms on his chest and cocked his hip, daring Sebastian to keep this up.

“I swear to Satan you’re even more headstrong than me.” He crossed and enveloped Ciel in his arms, cradling the small man to his larger frame as if worried he would disappear. He bent his head until his nose brushed Ciel’s hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispered almost inaudibly.

Sebastian didn’t apologize often; it surprised Ciel enough to pull back to try to search the taller man’s face for some clue as to why he was suddenly giving in. It was an expression so complex, no matter how many years they’d known each other, Ciel wasn’t sure he could pry out exactly what his boyfriend was thinking.

“Lau,” Sebastian whispered, his voice hoarse.

“What?” Ciel didn’t understand.

“Lau’s back,” Sebastian repeated, louder, angrier. His fists tightened. “And he’s trafficking kids again.”

####

#kuroshitsuji #black butler #fan fic #fan fiction #drabble #circus au #my writing #sebastian michaelis #ciel phantomhive #kissing #sebciel #first draft #wip #alternate universe #adult ciel #angst #where demons hide story #sebaciel

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viostormcaller · 6 years

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Ego Headcanons: Chase Brody

As you can tell, I'm not doing these in any particular order. Once I have half a coherent thought I'll start whichever one I decide next XD my brain decided on Chase, so here goes (WARNING THIS ONE IS INSANELY LONG):

Chase has been friends with Jack the longest. They met years ago and started their channels around the same time. Their content varies very differently from each others, but they've always supported one another, hence why they're so close

Chase was never a very popular kid in school. He didn't get the best grades and didn't see himself as anything special. He saw himself as simply "average", and that's where the name of his channel came from.

He went to a very religious school. Chase, however, is not religious. He's open to it, but he hated how the teachers treated the students. He got in trouble with them a lot because of that.

Home life was equally as hard. He wasn't treated the best by his parents either. This caused him to develop depression around middle school. It went untreated for years and gradually got worse.

He started the channel to give himself something to live for and look forward to each day. He loved making videos and loved connecting with the community, and it really helped with his loneliness. Eventually, his videos were doing well enough that, once he was monetized, he was able to move out of his parents' place and get a tiny apartment of his own.

He started the channel with the help of his high school friend Chad. The puppet of him is a running joke between them.

Chase met Stacy because of the channel. He ran into her in a coffee shop and she recognized him. They hit it off immediately. They grew close over time, got married, and had two kids, Samantha and Grayson.

Chase tried his hardest to upkeep the channel, but his content wasn't very popular, sadly. The lack of views made it hard to pay the bills most times because of the lack of revenue coming in. The expectation that because Chase was fairly well-known he should be making a lot of money, is what slowly drove Stacy away. Chase had been doing his channel for fun, not for money, so this expectation made things a lot harder on him.

Things began to go downhill once his ideas for stunts slowed. His depression was getting bad again and his energy was dropping. The pressure to make money and get views was weighing on him as well, and the quality of his videos were dropping. The community noticed this and urged him to take a break, but he refused because he couldn't if he wanted to keep his relationship with Stacy.

His two kids were his entire world. Every second he wasn't working was devoted to his family. He tried his best to be a good husband for Stacy, as well, even if they didn't have a lot of time for each other since Chase was bringing in the income and had to work more. But he always treated his family with love and respect and cherished them.

The divorce was his breaking point. After all his efforts to keep the family together, things fell apart anyway. He worked so hard and so much and was put under so much pressure and had very little support. His channel wasn't making him happy, and it wasn't making his kids and his wife happy because he couldn't support them as much as he wanted, and once they left he felt he had nothing left to live for.

Chase attempted suicide on a livestream that was shortly taken down afterwards, though snippets of it were saved by viewers and were spread around the internet.

When Chase was taken in for emergency surgery, the paramedics took him to a doctor who they knew would save his life. This is how he met Dr. Schneeplestein.

Chase had been in a coma for two months, and was put under watch for another two months after he woke up. Schneep made sure he was the doctor in charge of caring for Chase, and kept a close eye on him while he was regaining mobility and recovering. After many intensive therapy sessions and medication adjustments, Chase was finally allowed to go home. He had moved out shortly after the divorce, before the attempt, so he at least still had a place to live.

Jack and Schneep both visited Chase regularly. Jack had already become friends with Schneep before, so the three became very close. It was Jack that paid Chase's rent while he was in the hospital. Chase cried when Jack told him that

Chase made an apology video to the community and stated that that would be his last video for a really long time, if not forever. He took a long break from the channel as he tried to put together the pieces of what his life had become.

Schneep, having also been through a nasty divorce, helped Chase through the process and gave him advice. About a week before Jack fell ill, Schneep had taken Chase to go see his family and talk things out. This was before his shift at the hospital, so he didn't know the outcome

When Chase got the news that Henrik had been kidnapped and Jack was comatose, Chase decided to repay the favor he owed to them both and took over Jack's channel. He moved out of the apartment he lived at and into the house where the other Egos lived (which at the time were Marvin and Jackieboy Man).

While Jackie was busy most days hunting down Schneep and Anti, Marvin became Chase's protector. They grew close this way.

After a months-long battle, Chase got partial custody of his kids, allowing him to see them on weekends. This was a huge win for him.

Chase didn't have the time to go to therapy because of the management of Jack's channel and taking care of the kids on weekends, so he turned to alcohol to cope with the lack of a support system. Even though he could see his kids, the fact his two best friends were gone slowly broke him, but he knew he had to keep going.

When Jameson came along, Chase immediately knew he had to protect him. He pretty much adopted him as his son a few days after they met. They became very close very quickly, and the relationship they shared proved to be very good for Chase

When Schneep returned nine months later, the four of them helped Schneep ease back into being free again and helped him recover. Chase was there for him the most, wanting to return the favor back when Schneep helped him recover. Once he was well enough, they became drinking buddies, considering they both had the same bad habits and a lot to talk about. Chase prefers whiskey over anything else

He visits Jack three times a week to talk to him. He misses him dearly and desperately hopes he can hear him. He doesn't know that Jack actually can.

Despite his depressing past, Chase truly is a kid at heart, more so than the others. His smiles are one of the brightest you'll see, and his laughs are infectious.

He's a lover of Disney movies and he happily shares this with Jameson. He loves movies in general, but Disney is his favorite. He also adores Kingdom Hearts as a result. He tried to explain the plot to Jameson. He didn't get it.

Chase owns a lot of toys. Legos, action figures, race cars, Nerf guns, you name it. He even owns a few stuffed animals! He actually does play with them all, too; they're not just for show. The others assume he just collects toys, except for Schneep. He's the only other person who knows, and he vowed to keep it their secret. On the mornings where the others are busy and they're the only two in the house, Schneep will watch Chase play with his toys in his room while he sips coffee. It's some of their favorite moments they share together

Chase has an unashamed love for dinosaurs. He has gray pajamas with green dinosaurs on them and he openly wears them around the house. He often gets teased about it, which he responds by sticking his tongue out at whoever is doing the teasing

His favorite hat was a gift from Jack. He's rarely seen without it

Chase knows when to be mature and when to relax. He may not appear so, but he can really get focused when he has to, especially when it comes to the things that mean the most to him. Family is one of those things

Chase suffers from phantom pains and migraines because of the gunshot wound in his temple. On the days it's too bad to leave his bed, Marvin takes over the channel, and Schneep takes care of him. He also suffers from flashbacks and panic attacks, but he has people there to ground him

Chase is Bisexual. He's only been in relationships with women so far, and as of now he hasn't had the motivation to see anyone else. His family comes first, the channel second, and that's what he's choosing to focus on right now. He does want Stacy back, though, but he doubts it'll ever happen.

Aaaaaand I think that's it! At least, I hope it is. This one is REALLY fucking long and I wasn't expecting it to be, so sorry about that! I think the next longest one will be Schneep's probably, so I may do him next to get him outta the way. Idk

#jacksepticeye #chase brody #septicego hc #septicego headcanon #suicide tw #abuse tw #alcohol tw #long post #vio stormcaller

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