#very lazy thing i did today instead of editing a fic

[acreekinthenight]

Tweek wants to watch the storm roll in and Craig just wants to watch Tweek

[dottielovegood]

ASMR - Chapter 4

Elriel fanfiction

About this fic:

Azriel can’t sleep Elain has an ASMR channel Match made in heaven (or you know, on youtube..)

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You can find chapter 1 here, chapter 2 here and chapter 3 here

Read this fic on AO3

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The following week, Azriel read Elain’s messages too many times to admit. He had answered her that “meat banjo” was, indeed, a vile word, and after that, they hadn’t really talked or texted.

He had saved her number as “Elain”, which had felt weirdly private. As if they were friends, which they were not. He was just her friendly helper, and she was his remedy for nightmares.

However, even though they didn’t know each other, Azriel felt an odd sensation in his chest when he thought about her. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought that he was missing her, which was absurd. But the tight little knot in his chest felt very much like longing. He tried to tell himself that this was weird and stupid. He knew that he had a crush on her (even though he hated to admit it), but he could also see that it was a pointless crush. She was an internet sensation, he was a boring IT guy. She was light and happiness and flowers, he was dark and brooding. She made people smile, he made people uncomfortable. And then there was the practical side of things. They had met on the internet. She probably lived on the other side of the country. Hell, she could even live in a different country for all he knew. She might have a partner already - it’s not like he asked. And, last but not least, she probably didn’t have a crush on him.

Before talking to her on the phone, he had just thought that she was a pretty girl that deserved kindness. But after their phone call, he had definitely developed a crush. Which was another reason why he hadn’t texted her. He didn’t want to bother her and he didn’t want to have this crush. He wanted to stop feeling like this for a girl he would never see in real life. Yet, every night before bed, he found himself on her youtube page, watching one of her many videos.

She uploaded a new video to Youtube every Friday, so when Friday came around, Azriel was itching to get home so he could go to sleep (he told himself that he was looking forward to sleeping and not to seeing her face).

However, he had an entire workday to get through first. The office was mostly an open landscape and Azriel’s desk was next to Cassian’s. The only person with his own office was Rhysand, which was fair since he was the owner of the company. At two in the afternoon, Rhys poked his head out of his office.

“You guys are still coming for dinner this weekend, right?”

“Yeah,” Azriel and Cassian answered in unison.

“I told Feyre that I would help her with the food,” Azriel continued.

Rhys looked like he was going to kiss Azriel. “Oh, god. Thank you, man. I was scared that we would have to repeat the Christmas dinner,” he said and shuddered.

Feyre hated to cook and Rhys did most of the cooking at home, but for some inexplicable reason, she always wanted to cook for holidays or family dinners. To everyone’s dismay. Christmas had been no exception. She had burned the turkey, added salt instead of sugar to the dessert and somehow managed to buy the wrong berries for her cranberry sauce. Luckily, Rhys had been prepared and bought a few frozen pizzas and some ice cream, so the day wasn’t that much of a disaster, but nobody wanted to brave Feyre’s cooking again.

“Why don’t you just cook?” Cassian asked without looking up from his screen.

“You know that she kicks me out if I so much as go near the kitchen when we have these family dinners. And since she started the hormone treatment, she has been a bit bitchy when she gets mad, so I’ll just do whatever she says.”

Azriel chuckled. He could tell from Rhysand’s tone that Feyre had been more than “a bit” bitchy.

“I don’t understand why she lets Azriel help, though…”

“Maybe because she knows that I’ll tell her to sit down with a glass of wine and a magazine, and then she can take all of the credit for the food?”

“Fair enough.” Rhys shrugged. “Just burn the food a little bit, or it won’t be believable.”

Cassian snorted. “No one would believe that something edible was made by your wife. Sorry.”

“She does make a great green smoothie, though,” Rhys grinned and held up his glass.

Azriel and Cassian looked at each other and had to bite their tongues to keep from laughing. The smoothie looked vile and smelled even worse.

After a few more minutes of small talk, Rhys went back to his office for an important phone call. “See you on Saturday,” he reminded them before closing the door.

Azriel and Cassian worked in silence for the remainder of the day.

When Azriel came home that evening, he made a quick pasta carbonara to eat in front of the TV. He was re-watching New Girl. It was his comfort show and absolutely nobody knew that he watched it (and had watched it multiple times). He would take that information with him to the grave. But it was fun and cute and sometimes he liked to imagine his friends as characters in the show. Cassian was probably Schmidt, because Nesta was one hundred percent Cece. Feyre was Jess, which meant that Rhys was Nick. And then there was Azriel. He wanted to say that he was a very cool character, but most characters on this show weren’t cool, and also, he was definitely Winston. Alone with a cat - sounds about right , Azriel thought to himself as he finished his bowl of pasta.

When the episode ended he just waited for the next to start. He didn’t have any plans for the night and nowhere to be. His phone vibrated where he had left it on the kitchen counter. He ignored it, feeling too lazy to get up. But then it vibrated again. With a sigh, he got up. He expected to see a text from Mor telling him to bring wine tomorrow, or maybe a strange meme from Cassian. What he didn’t expect was to see Elain’s name on his screen.

He could feel his heart in his throat as he read her messages.

Elain Hey, Shadowsinger. I’m uploading a new video soon. You should watch it!

Elain I hope that message didn’t sound creepy? I just meant that I think you might like it.

Azriel’s hands were sweaty.

Azriel You didn’t sound creepy at all. Of course, I’ll watch your video. May I ask what I can expect from it?

Just seconds later, Elain answered.

Elain You can ask, but I might not tell ;)

Azriel Should I be worried?

Elain Haha, no! I think it turned out great. You were my inspiration :)

Azriel could feel himself blush. He had never been someone’s inspiration before.

Azriel So, I’m your muse? ;)

Oh god, was that too flirty? Was the winky-face too much? He wished that he could take back the message.

Elain For tonight, yes!

Azriel stared at his phone, unsure of what to answer. Luckily, Elain wrote to him again.

Elain What are you doing tonight?

Azriel Nothing. Just eating pasta and watching TV. How about you?

Elain That sounds amazing. I have been editing this video for hours so I’m just tired and cranky, haha. I have just ordered a pizza and I think I’ll just eat it in bed as soon as this video has finished uploading. What did you watch?

Azriel If I told you, I would have to kill you.

Elain Oh, intriguing! Is it trashy drama? I bet it’s Grey’s anatomy! Or maybe… Love Island?

Azriel stared at his phone. Did she really think that he would watch something like Love Island?

Azriel I watched New Girl, okay. Don’t tell anyone.

Elain Your secret is safe with me! Also, I love New Girl! Especially Winston!

It felt as if someone was squeezing Azriel’s heart.

Azriel Really? Which character would you be?

Elain My pizza is here so I am going to put all of my electronics in a different room and eat my pizza while reading a good book. It was great talking to you, Azriel! Please tell me what you thought of the video when you have watched it.

Elain Oh, and I would probably be Winston’s cat. lol

Azriel almost dropped his phone. If he had to be alone with a cat for the rest of his life, he would definitely want Elain to be his cat , he thought to himself. Which was a weird thing to think about someone you didn’t know. Azriel dropped his head to his kitchen counter and took a deep breath before replying.

Azriel It was great talking to you too, Elain. Enjoy your dinner and your book :)

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to. Azriel was going to be thinking about her for the rest of the night anyway.

30 minutes later, he got a notification telling him that Flower Girl ASMR had uploaded a new video. The video was called “ASMR for IT-guys”, which made him chuckle. He clicked the video and Elain’s beautiful face filled his screen again.

“Hello, my lovelies, lovelies, lovelies,” she whispered in her microphone. “This week’s video will be a bit different,” she continued, slowly moving her hands in front of the camera. “This video was inspired by my friend who recently helped me with some computer-related issues, issues, issues.”

Azriel loved it when she repeated words like that. And he liked that he somehow was a part of this video. It was something that connected them. Azriel paused the video and got into bed, knowing fully well that he would probably fall asleep soon if he kept watching this.

He pressed play again. “So, today, I thought that we would try a few computer-related triggers. I have a keyboard here,” she said and started typing on a keyboard that was out of view. “I thought that I would say a few trigger words while typing them.”

She smiled at the camera and pressed a few more keys. “I just wrote my friend’s name, but you won’t get to know who he is. But you know who you are. Thank you for your help!”

Azriel felt all warm inside.

She continued the video. “The first trigger word is IP address ”. Azriel laughed as she repeated the word multiple times while typing quickly.

“And then we have, laptop, laptop, laptop,” she continued, and Azriel felt shivers go down his spine when she popped the p’s.

Azriel had never thought that he would fall asleep to someone whispering “HTML coding” in his ears, but here he was. Relaxed and ready to sleep.

All thanks to Flower Girl ASMR.

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

The next day, Azriel texted Elain that he had loved the video. He waited for hours, but no reply came. Maybe she just wanted to repay me for helping her? Azriel thought. Maybe she would stop talking to him now that he had seen the video.

The thought of never talking to Elain again made him feel a new kind of ache in his chest. An ache he didn’t want to feel. This stupid crush needs to end, he muttered to himself as he started to scrub his kitchen counter. He tried to ignore the feeling by keeping busy. He cleaned his apartment and did some laundry before heading over to his friends’ house.

Rhys greeted him by the door and ushered him inside.

“She started cooking like 15 minutes ago, please save whatever can be saved,” he whispered to Azriel. Azriel chuckled and made his way to the kitchen. On the way there, he passed the living room and stopped to greet his friends. He saw most of them on a daily basis because of work, but he was still happy to see them. Cassian and his fiancée Nesta sat close together on one of the green velvet couches. On the opposite couch sat Mor and Amren. Mor was one of the journalists at Velaris News, and Amren was an editor. They had known each other for years. Amren and Rhys had studied together at university, and Mor was Rhysand’s cousin. Once upon a time, Azriel had a crush on Mor. One night after one too many glasses at Rita’s he confessed his feelings to her and she had looked horrified. He had expected her to tell him that she didn’t fancy him and leave it at that, but instead, she had blurted “I like girls!”

Azriel was the first person she ever came out to, and he had felt honored. He also knew now that they wouldn’t have worked out together in the long run (even if Mor had been straight). They were just too different. She was energetic and outgoing and fun, he needed peace and quiet. But she was still one of his very best friends.

Amren on the other hand, he didn’t know as well. She had always been very private, but she was damn good at her job.

“Where’s Varian tonight?” Azriel asked Amren, trying to make small talk.

“How should I know?” she answered quickly. “I’m not his mother.”

Cassian stared at her. “But you are his girlfriend?”

She shrugged. “I don’t like to label things.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. Amren had lived with Varian for the past two years, but she was still reluctant to tell anyone about their relationship.

Azriel made his way into the kitchen, and from what he could tell, he made it just in time.

“What are you making, Feyre?” he asked, because truthfully, he couldn’t tell.

Feyre turned around quickly as if he had startled her. “Oh, hi Az,” she said and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

Something was burning.

“I was trying to make lamb chops with glazed carrots, roasted potatoes, and salsa verde, but…” she gestured to the stove, which looked like a disaster.

Azriel chuckled. “That’s ambitious.” He lifted the lid from one of the pots and could clearly see that she had overcooked the lamb 10 minutes ago. Also, why had she made them in a pot, and not a frying pan? It would be inedible.

The potatoes were still in the sink, unpeeled.

She gave him a strained smile. “Will you help me?”

“Of course.” Azriel put the grocery bag he had brought with him on the kitchen island. “On one condition.”

“Anything.” She sounded desperate.

“Please, for the love of god, let Rhys cook when we come over. You really don’t have to show off. You are good at many things, Feyre. But cooking is unfortunately not one of them.”

She nodded. “I know,” she sat down on one of the stools at the kitchen island and buried her face in her hand. “I just...I need to be able to cook when I become a mother.”

Azriel took her hand in his. “You really don’t. Nobody expect fathers to be good at cooking, so why should every mother be good at it? Honestly, just let Rhys cook while you play with the kids.”

She smiled at him. “That actually sounds amazing,” she sighed.

“Right?”

Azriel started to pull out some ingredients from the bag on the kitchen island. He held up the tomatoes and the spaghetti, “How about some pasta arrabbiata with burrata?”

“Sounds fancy.”

He shrugged. “Everything sounds fancier in a different language. It’s just pasta with a spicy tomato sauce, and burrata on top.”

“Whatever you make will probably be better than that mess,” she said and glanced towards the stove. Azriel couldn’t disagree.

“Probably,” he laughed and got to work. Azriel placed all the pots and pans in the sink and started chopping the vegetables for the sauce, and in just 30 minutes, dinner was served.

“You are my hero,” Feyre said and kissed his cheek as she carried the big bowl of pasta to the dining room.

Everyone had already gathered around the table, wine glasses in hand. As Azriel sat down, Mor poured him some wine.

“This looks amazing,” Nesta said and Cassian nodded in agreement.

“Thanks, Az helped a little,” Feyre said and winked at Azriel.

“Just a bit,” Azriel said and took a sip of wine.

The conversation (and wine) flowed freely, as it always did. Cassian and Nesta told them about their wedding plans, Mor gushed about Emerie, a girl she was dating, and Feyre told them about life as a high school art teacher. Azriel would never understand how anyone could choose to spend their days with teenagers, but Feyre loved it.

After two bottles of wine, Nesta and Mor were in an argument about which animal was the cutest.

“No, I am telling you, Sloths are cuter than any animal ever,” Mor exclaimed. “Have you seen their dopey little faces?”

“Sloths? Really?” Nesta looked at her as if she had suggested that the sky was green. “Red pandas are way cuter! They are cute and cuddly, Sloths just look like every single stoner I went to high school with.”

They had been at it for 10 minutes, which Azriel found to be quite impressive.

“Can you both just shut up?” Amren gritted out. “The cutest animals are koalas. They’re even cute when they fight. I am right, you are wrong. Please stop this meaningless discussion before I die from boredom.”

Nesta and Mor looked at Amren, and then at each other.

“We obviously have to see Koalas fight if you want us to end this conversation,” Mor said.

Nesta nodded. “Obviously. Give me your phone, Az,” she said and reached for his phone.

“Why do you need my phone?”

“Because mine is dead and yours is right there on the table. Also, your screen is big and we need to watch this in full HD, for obvious reasons.”

Azriel huffed a laugh, unlocked his phone, and handed it to Nesta.

She clicked the Youtube app, and then her face fell. She looked at Azriel as if he was an alien, and then she showed the phone to Cassian who looked at him with the same facial expression.

What the hell had they found?

He didn’t have anything weird on his phone. And he sure as hell didn’t watch porn on it.

“What?” Azriel asked, and Nesta turned the phone.

Fuck. The last video he had watched was still loaded on Youtube, and of course, it was Elain’s latest video.

“What the hell is this?” Nesta asked, almost looking angry.

Azriel didn’t understand why she found ASMR so wrong, but he desperately wanted to explain himself.

“Well, it’s ASMR. It’s kind of… well, it’s hard to explain, but it helps me sleep and– “

Nesta interrupted him before he could finish. “I know what ASMR is. I am wondering why you are watching Elain?”

Azriel stared at Nesta in shock. Did she also like Elain’s videos? But that wouldn’t explain the anger and confusion.

“Do you...know her?” Azriel asked.

“Yes, we went to university together. She’s our florist for the wedding. She was the florist at their wedding, too,” Nesta answered and gestured towards Rhys and Feyre. “Surely you have met her?”

Azriel could do nothing but shake his head in confusion. If he had ever met Elain, he would have known. You didn’t forget a face like hers.

“Please tell me you’re not stalking her like some creep, Az. Honestly, her last boyfriend was the world’s biggest asshat.”

“I’m not stalking her,” Azriel blurted out. “I’m just watching her videos to fall asleep, I promise. I– I didn’t know that you knew her.”

Nesta eyed him suspiciously. “So, is this just a coincidence?”

He nodded. “Weirder things have happened,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

Nesta glanced at Cassian, and then back at Azriel. “Fine,” she said after a small eternity. “You would probably be cute together anyway. Sorry for insinuating that you would be a stalker.” She really did look remorseful. “That wasn’t fair. I’m just very protective of her. She’s the nicest girl, but she has horrendous taste in men.”

Azriel couldn’t answer, because his mind was still stuck on the fact that Nesta said that they would be cute together. He wanted to ask Nesta why she thought that. He kind of also wanted to ask her if Elain lived here in Velaris, and what her favorite movie was, and if she, by any chance, had a boyfriend. But he refrained, he didn’t want to sound like a stalker.

“So, what the fuck is ASMR?” Cassian asked. “Is it like porn?”

Before Azriel could answer, Rhys said “It’s like porn for your ears, I guess,” and then the entire table was laughing.

“Nesta,” Feyre said when the laughter had died down. “Does Elain still have that cute, little shop on River Street?”

“Mhm,” Nesta answered and took a sip of her wine.

Azriel could kiss Feyre for asking. And if he wasn’t mistaken, he could see her wink in his direction before raising her water glass to her lips.

Azriel walked home that evening with a million thoughts in his head.

He made a list in his head:

Elain lived in Velaris

River Street was literally a 10-minute walk from his home.

Nesta thought that they would be cute together

This meant nothing

She probably didn’t even like him back

Just because they were in the same city, it didn’t mean that they would ever meet.

This was still just a crush

And it was probably one-sided

She hadn’t even answered his latest text message.

And as if on cue, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

Elain I’m sorry that I didn’t answer you earlier. I’ve been at work all day. We had a leak in the basement and everything was just chaos. I haven’t even checked my phone until now.

He mentally scratched number 9 from his list.

Azriel No worries! Did you fix the leak?

Azriel checked the time on his phone: 23.30

Had she dealt with this leak until now?

Elain Yes! But so many flowers were ruined (I’m a florist) and I had to remake a few arrangements for a wedding that’s coming up.

Elain I’m sorry. You probably don’t care. I’m happy that you liked the video :)

Azriel wanted to tell her that he did care. That everything she said was interesting to him. He would probably even find her Starbucks order fascinating. But that bordered on stalker behavior.

Azriel Again, no worries! Sometimes when you’ve had a bad day, you just need someone to vent to.

Elain Exactly! Thank you for letting me vent :) This day is finally over!

There was a selfie attached to the last message.

Elain was standing in front of a big window surrounded by flowers. She was wearing a white, oversized shirt and her hair was in a messy bun. She looked tired but happy. She was giving him ‘thumbs up’ in the photo and through the window, he could see the Sidra. They were indeed in the same city. It made him both happy and nervous.

Elain Sweaty but happy to be heading home :)

Azriel received that last message when he walked through the door to his apartment. What the hell was he supposed to answer?

But then he thought back to Nesta’s words.

You would probably be cute together.

So he took a deep breath and gathered all his courage.

Azriel You still look beautiful though

He stared at his phone. Would she answer? Would she block him? Would she tell him to stop being a creep?

Elain Thank you :) What do you look like? I might have forgotten ;)

Okay. That was flirty. Even Azriel could tell that that was a flirty text message, and he was usually oblivious to such things. He quickly walked to his bathroom (it was the room with the best lighting). He checked his shirt (no stains) and mussed with his hair.

“Good enough,” he muttered, and snapped a selfie.

Before he could chicken out, he sent it to her.

Within seconds, he received a reply.

Elain Beautiful!

[pink-bird-30]

Titans 3x10

Spoilers Ahead

Read at own risk!!!!!

I don't think frustrated is a strong enough term for me to explain how I feel about this episode, but of this entire season as a whole.

Dick mf Grayson, what has happened to you?!?!?!

First off, why go back to the hospital to look at the eye test board? Are you admitting to your hallucinations or just the writers jerking us around? What is the importance of seeing the figure in the eye exam if they are not going to explore it further?!

Glad to see Gotham is back on its usual shit of setting itself on fire and all the residents acting like this is something new. Bruh, I think Gotham was constructed on Hellfire with how often things go sideways; I can't even imagine the taxes to live there.

I'm interested in Gar reading up on the Lazarus Pit. For anybody that knows about Ra's al Ghul, you know that when you get tossed into the pit, you lose your soul. SO are we witnessing the shell of Jason or or the writers forgot the basics of the comics and forgot to put that important piece of the puzzle into play here. Cuz if so, you waited until episode 10 of a probable 13 episode season to explain that Jason lost his soul?????? and still didn't even get to the point because Gar was interrupted by Gotham bullshit.

Why did they make the people of Gotham seem rabid and not, idk, sick? They drank Crane's Toxin and they're acting like dogs with rabies that can pull their joints back into place? like what?

The inconsistency in this episode killed me. Dick and Babs went to a bar causally in the middle of this hell hole of an episode for drinks. And Babs ordered a fucking coffee???? bro, the water is contaminated and you're ordering coffee?!

I'm not even going to touch Donna with a 10ft pole right now because I just don't understand why they had to show her trials with Lydia. It look away from the main plot that was disrupted last episode since we were in the Shadowland getting Tim and Donna back, but still didn't continue that plot into today. What happened to Tim, where is Bruce, how did Donna get to Gotham from wherever the Hell Bruce's other Manor was? Just why?!

I'm glad season 2 Dick showed up for .5 seconds to turn himself in. That was refreshing to see some normalcy from him. This whole scene had me annoyed because Dick talks about them being "family" and what not, but where have you been all season? You have no idea what is going on with any of these people. Does he know Kom and Connor are a thing? Does he know Kori is still hallucinating just like him? Does he realize Gar is the only one who genuinely cares about Jason? Dick has som twisted view on what family is.

The scene when they are all driving to turn themselves in. We are given a scene where Kom is vulnerable and showing her fears of being taken in by the police. But when they pull up to the precinct, we see Dick and Kori exit their own vehicle. So you are telling me that wE COULD OF HAD A SCENE OF DICK AND KORI TALKING ABOUT WHAT WAS ABOUT TO HAPPEN? AND THEY DIDN'T SHOW IT?! WHERE IS MY SOFT DICK THAT WOULD SHARE HIS INSECURITIES WITH KORI ABOUT THE DECISIONS HE'S MAKING. (I will obviously be writing a fic about this later).

Jason and Crane are really annoying me now. Crane is a "good bad" but I don't get anything from him. He seems lazy and unconcerned and it bothers me. He's not actively trying to take out the Titans, but instead uses a video to do it form him? I don't know if that is because I'm so used to performative villains in these kinds of shows, but even the past two season the villains were always ready for more. Crane makes me bored. I kinda liked it better when Jason was unhinged.

Big surprise, Gotham cops are dirty.

Okay, we need to break down what happened with Kom and Kori. I'm really torn about whether or not Kom took Kori's power's on purpose. Kori is a very passionate person, whereas Kom is collected and preserved. Their personalities clash all the time, and it makes it hard for me to believe whether Kom is good or not. Kori talks about needing to save others and do what is the best for Gotham, where as Kom is always concerned with their status as Queens and thinking of themselves first. This is what makes me believe Kom did it on purpose when the opportunity presented itself. If not, I do believe she would have found another way. As for Kori, I think she has a right to be unsure of Kom's motives, she knows her sister better than all of us (which is fucked cuz, how are we to know them without knowing their past). In the end I think Kom needs Kori's full trust to break her.

As of right now, Crane has only managed to knock one person down, which was Barbara. But he still has an entire team of people to pull apart and it's taken too long. Slade managed this in 5 seconds last season.

In this entire episode, only one thing rang true, and Dick put it perfectly: "Gotham is on it's own." Which is sad considering Bruce wouldn't have let it go this far. Gotham needs Batman, not the Titans.

After thoughts:

Where is Tim? is he okay? Does Dick care this kid basically died and never mentioned anything about it again?

Bruce, where did Donna leave him? Is he in a safe place where he can't try to blow himself up again?

[Edit cuz people are jerks, It was great to see Rachel again]

Guys, we really need some good shit next week cuz I'm tired.

[musette22]

As it's Chris' birthday today, what's your Evanstan headcon for how they are spending it? We don't know if Chris is still in LA (as far as I know), do you think he might be back in Boston to be with his family? That would mean Seb could easily visit him now that the lockdown in NYC is over. Or would he fly to LA to celebrate with his bf? (He hasn't been seen in NYC in the last couple of days either, right?) Or will the only hang out virtually? I would love to know what you are imagining 😊

Hello darling!! So yesterday, I said I probably wasn’t going to write any Evanstan for a while, but then I woke up this morning and had a lovely little Evanstan headcanon fantasy about Chris’s birthday - as you do - and then I thought screw it, let’s write this thing. So here’s a little drabble (well, it should’ve been a drabble) about how Chris might have spent his birthday 😘

A/N: This is just a nonsensical little fantasy scenario that doesn’t actually make any sense, but the idea made me happy, so I hope it’ll make you guys happy too! Don’t look too closely, please, there’s some overlap with previous fics and this was all written very quickly and hasn’t been edited properly because it’s late where I am and I need to sleep lmao 🙈 Sorry about that!

Happy birthday, Mr. America 

*********

Chris likes surprises, generally speaking.

Not the nasty kind, like when a part unexpectedly falls through, or someone gets angry at him out of the blue and he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. But he likes it when exciting things happen and shake things up a bit, like when he’s having a lazy day alone at home, and a friend suddenly shows up on his doorstep to tell him, change of plans, we’re going bungee jumping. When that happens, Chris will happily drop whatever he’s doing and jump in the car, because that’s the kind of thing that makes him feel alive.

So when he arrives at the Evans’ family house today, on his birthday, and is greeted by a chorus of Surprise! and Happy Birthdays from a bunch of people he hasn’t seen ages - literal years, in some cases - Chris is delighted and touched; excited to see familiar faces and catch up with his friends and family.

That excited feeling lasts for a solid few hours, until his Aunt Melanie corners him and starts telling Chris about her Pilates instructor. This isn’t the first time she’s tried to set Chris up with whichever wonderful girl she’s most recently met and feels would be perfect for Chris, but this time she’s really hammering on about how she just can’t understand why a good-looking, successful young man like him hasn’t found a wife yet. She no doubt means well, but that doesn’t mean Chris is about to go on a blind date with her Pilates instructor.

When he’s finally managed to excuse himself under the pretense of needing a bathroom break, he sneaks off to the back of the house, to his dad’s old study. As soon as the door closes behind him, he lets out a sigh of relief and leans back against it for a moment, catching his breath. He loves his family to bits, but there’s no denying they’re a lot. There’s a sofa in the study, a wide, navy blue one, and Chris lies down on it, stretching himself to his full length. He closes his eyes, hoping to nap for a couple of minutes, but no dice. His aunt’s comments play in his head on a loop, causing something uneasy to stir in his stomach.

The thing is, she’s right. He should already be married and have a couple of cute kids to dote on. He’s wanted to have a family and settle down for a long time, ever since he got done with sowing his wild oats and calmed down a little. He’s the long-term relationship kind, and there had been a few girlfriends with whom he thought he definitely could see a future.

That had been Before, though. Before Sebastian Stan had waltzed into his life and upended everything Chris thought he knew for certain, complicating everything in the best and worst possible way. After the initial shock of developing feelings for another guy wore off, Chris had simply accepted his infatuation as a fact of life, and it had become something he carried with him always, but never acted on or even spoke of. He wouldn’t know where to start. It was clear there was something between them, though. The way Sebastian looked at him sometimes… It had to mean something. For the longest time, they’d danced around each other, always just shy of outright flirting, and there had been a few times when Chris really thought something might finally happen between them. But it never did.

And now it never would. They’ve hardly even seen each other, over the past year, after they stopped working together. Sure, they kept in touch from time to time, but there is only so much keeping in touch two work friends can plausibly do before it gets weird or necessarily has to turn into something else. And Chris thought he’d accepted that, more or less.

But then last week, he and Scott had gotten drunk together – like really, stupidly drunk. At around 3 in the morning, Scott had put on The First Avenger so he could make fun of Chris in his skin tight leggings, and then suddenly Sebastian’s face had been right there on his TV screen: larger than life, young and handsome like he’d been when Chris first felt that tug in his gut when he’d looked at him.

And Chris, whose brain-to-mouth filter unfortunately ceases to exist entirely whenever he’s had too much to drink, had just blurted out, “I think I’m in love with him.”

Initially, Scott had thought Chris meant that Steve was in love with Bucky. 

“Well, clearly,” he’d slurred. “They’re soooo gay, oh my god.”

And instead of using the misunderstanding to cover up for his unfortunate drunken slip-up, Chris had slowly shook his head and corrected, “No, with Sebastian. ‘M in love with Sebastian. Have been for a long time, I think.”

He’d passed out not long after, possibly his subconscious’ way of trying to protect himself against the barrage of questions from Scott that Chris had been in no state to answer in that moment. Inevitably, Scott had tried to talk to him about it the next day, but Chris – hungover, embarrassed and annoyed with himself for opening his big mouth and spilling this secret that he’d managed to keep for close to a decade – had told Scott to leave it and that he didn’t want to talk about it. Nothing was ever going to come of this now anyway, so it was much better if they could all just forget it ever happened.

Scott and he had gone to dinner at their mom’s that night, and of course, Lisa had instantly sensed something was off. Unfortunately, Chris never did stand a chance in hell against his mother, so when she took him to aside after dinner and outright asked him what was wrong, he’d had no choice but to spill the beans. Besides, if he didn’t, Scott would probably have found a way to guilt him into telling Lisa, eventually - they’d always shared everything with her, after all.

Lisa had been so loving and understanding, just like Chris knew she would, and despite the aching in his chest, he was grateful and a little bit relieved to know he wasn’t keeping something this significant from her any longer. But in the end, it didn’t change anything. Of course, Lisa had asked him why he didn’t just go for it, told him to just go for it, call Sebastian and ask him out for dinner, but Chris had dismissed all her suggestions. It just wasn’t going to happen. Certainly not now, not anymore.

She’d dropped it, eventually, but Chris is under no illusions that he’s heard the last of it.

Since then, he’d tried to put the whole fiasco out of his mind, but then Aunt Melanie started badgering him about his marital status and it had all come rushing back again.

Just when Chris about to give up on trying to nap and head outside to get some fresh air instead, there’s a knock at the door.

Chris sighs, rubbing his eyes. “Come in,” he calls, not bothering to get up because it’s probably his mom coming to check on him. “Hey, mom,” he says, when Lisa’s head does appear around the door.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she replies, smiling. She opens the door a little wider. “There’s someone here to see you.”

“Oh?” Chris says, sitting up a little straighter for whatever friend or family member his mom wants him to meet so urgently, but then Lisa steps aside to reveal –  

Sebastian.

Sebastian is here. In his mom’s house. Standing right there, looking a little apprehensive and unsure, but still so fucking gorgeous it makes Chris’s heart stop for a moment inside his chest, before it starts up again at double speed.

“Hey, Chris,” Sebastian says, and it’s his voice, he’s really here, in Chris’s dad’s old study, speaking actual words at him.

What the fuck.

Chris gets to his feet so fast he feels a bit lightheaded, lightly swaying on his feet before he manages to get some semblance of a reply. "Hi. What- Sebastian. What are you doing here?"

Sebastian’s eyes flicker to Lisa for a moment, looking at her a little uncertainly. She gives him an encouraging nod.

“Um,” Sebastian starts, turning his eyes back to Chris again. “Lisa, your mom, invited me to your surprise birthday party.” He licks his lips nervously. “So, yeah, happy birthday. And, um. Surprise.” The last word is accompanied by a dorky little wave, and Chris is just. Speechless.

Literally, can’t form any words speechless, which is highly unusual for him. When he just keeps standing there, staring a Sebastian like he’s some kind of fata morgana, Lisa rolls her eyes and nudges Sebastian with her elbow.

“Well, go on, then,” she prompts, nodding in Chris’s direction. “He won’t bite.” Then, the look in her eyes turns mischievous, and Chris has half a second to think oh no, before she adds, “Unless you like that sort of thing, of course, but then he'd ask first. I raised him well.”

Sebastian makes a strangled sound, but starts towards him nonetheless, and before he really knows what’s happening, Chris is holding Sebastian in his arms. Holding him in his arms and burying his face in the crook of his neck and breathing him in. Sebastian’s arms go around him, too, a little tentative at first, but growing tighter, more secure, the longer the hug lasts. 

And it lasts, much longer than a casual happy birthday hug between friends is supposed to last, but Chris can’t for the life of him bring himself to let go. He knows he’s clinging, that he’s got his nose pressed to the spot below Sebastian’s ear and that’s probably far too intimate, but Sebastian’s arms around are wound tightly around Chris’s waist and his cheek is presses to the side of Chris’s face, and he’s not letting go either.

Finally, after what feels simultaneously like forever and the blink of an eye, Sebastian inhales shakily, his chest expanding against Chris’s. With Herculean effort, Chris makes himself pull away. But, of course, that brings with it the complication of being able to see Sebastian’s face, flustered and glowing, eyes shining with something unnameable. They’re so close then, their faces only an inch or so apart, and when Sebastian’s eyes flicker down to Chris’s mouth for a split second, Chris’s restraint breaks.

He lunges forward, and Sebastian does the same, and their mouths crash together awkwardly and suddenly, they’re kissing. Really, actually kissing. 

Chris’s hands fly to Sebastian’s face, holding it like it’s something precious, causing Sebastian to make a small, desperate sound that reverberates throughout Chris’s entire body. When he licks at the seam of Sebastian’s lips, Sebastian parts them immediately, letting him in, and Chris is drowning. Drowning in the kiss, in Sebastian’s taste, his smell, the little sighs he’s making against Chris’s lips, like he’s just as overwhelmed and stupefied and happy as Chris is, while they cling to each other like they’re each scared the other’s going to disappear if they dare to let up for just one second.

Eventually, though, they have to break apart for air. Chris presses their foreheads together, unwilling to put any more distance between them than is strictly necessary, still breathing the same air. When Chris eventually opens his eyes, he finds Sebastian looking back at him in a way that makes his knees feel suddenly weak.

"Hi," Seb says, voice low and husky.

"Hey," Chris replies, his hands on either side of Sebastian’s face, thumbs idly caressing his cheekbones.

Sebastian giggles, a light, happy sound that makes his nose do that scrunchy thing it does, and Chris wants to die. He groans, pulling Sebastian back in by the back of his neck –

And then Lisa clears her throat. Sebastian startles; he’d evidently forgotten she was still there, or maybe assumed she’d have left to give them their privacy, but that just goes to show Sebastian doesn’t know Lisa very well – yet.

"Well,” Lisa says, a grin in her voice. “I'll leave you two to it then, let me know if you need anything.” She pauses, before cheekily adding, “Anything at all."

“Yes, thank you, mom,” Chris says quickly, keen to spare Sebastian any further embarrassment. Sebastian’s hiding his face in Chris’s chest as it is, arms still wound around his waist, and Chris is literally about to pass out from how fucking cute that is.

Holding up a placating hand, Lisa finally retreats, closing the door behind her.

Once they’re alone, Chris steers Sebastian towards the couch, sitting down and pulling him into his lap. Sebastian lets himself be guided, straddling Chris’s thighs and giving him a coy look through his eyelashes. Chris blows out a slow breath to center himself a little, bringing up his hands to settle on Sebastian’s waist.

He knows they’ll need to talk about this at some point, but right now he can’t think of a single way to express what he’s feeling, and what this means to him. Right now, all he can do is stare at Sebastian in wonder, relishing finally getting to look at him the way he’s always wanted to: unabashedly, fondly, and very appreciative of exactly how tempting Sebastian’s lips look – especially after having been thoroughly kissed. By him.

“Fuck,” Chris breathes, overwhelmed, leaning in again to catch those pretty pink lips in another kiss.

Sebastian responds beautifully, opening up right away, melting into him. His arms wind around Chris’s shoulders, fingers scratching gently through the hair on the back of Chris’s head, making him shiver.

It’s sweet, at first; lips sliding together lazily, slow and lush, but eventually, the kisses turn a little dirtier, with nipping teeth and teasing tongues. When Sebastian bites Chris’s bottom lip a bit too hard, pulling on it, Chris literally goes cross-eyed for a second. The hand that found its way into Sebastian’s hair tightens instinctively, pulling his head back just a little.

“Oh,” Sebastian breathes, eyelids fluttering, and Chris instantly feels all his blood rushing south.

He can’t believe it. He can’t believe he has Sebastian here, in his lap, looking like innocence and sin wrapped into one, looking at him through heavy lidded eyes like it’s Chris who’s something to be desired. And Chris wants. He wants so bad, with every fiber of his being, to have Sebastian right there and then, but he has just enough presence of mind left to know that they can’t rush this, can’t make any rash decisions they might later regret if they don’t talk about what’s happening first.

Words still seem impossible, however, so instead, Chris takes one of Sebastian’s hands in his and presses a kiss to the center his palm, hoping to convey with that one gesture everything he wants to say but can’t.

When he looks back up, Sebastian blinks at him, his eyes wide and stunned, before he suddenly grabs Chris’s face between his hands and starts planting breathless kisses on his cheeks, his eyelids, his forehead, and even his nose. Chris lets himself be kissed, basks in it, feeling like his heart might burst, and when Sebastian finally presses his lips to his mouth, Chris seizes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Despite Chris’s best intentions, it turns heated again in no time. Without his permission, his hands slide under Sebastian’s shirt, stroking the smooth, warm skin of his back, while Sebastian mouths at Chris’s jaw, then trails a path of kisses down the column of his neck.

“Seb,” Chris groans, hands tightening convulsively on Sebastian’s waist. “Sebastian, wait.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” Sebastian pants, lifting his head to look down at him. He’s disheveled, his hair a mess, pupils blown, his lips red and a little raw from mouthing at Chris’s beard. He looks stunning.

“Jesus, you’re beautiful,” Chris says honestly, touching Sebastian’s left cheek.

Sebastian ducks his head turning his face into Chris’s palm, but he’s smiling, which makes Chris smile, too, then they’re just smiling at each other like a couple of dorks.

Chris shifts their positions to get more comfortable, tugging at Sebastian until they’re both lying on the couch on their sides, face to face. Pulling him closer, into his chest, Chris swings a leg over both of Sebastian’s, and Sebastian takes the hint immediately, snuggling into Chris and tucking his head under his chin so they’re full on cuddling.

“Best fucking birthday present ever,” Chris mutters into Sebastian’s hair, his hand tracing idle patters on Sebastian’s upper arm. In reply, Sebastian presses a kiss to Chris’s chest, over his heart.

Somehow, they snooze for a little while, just drifting in and out of consciousness, neither of them seeming to want to untangle themselves from the other, until after an indeterminate amount of time, there’s a soft knock at the door.

Chris hums questioningly in reply, not wanting to wake Sebastian, and the door opens cautiously. Lisa pokes her head in again, and the moment she sees them, all wrapped around each other like that, she covers her mouth with her hands, cooing softly.

“Happy Birthday, baby,” she whispers, her eyes shining with affection and pride.

“Thanks, mom,” Chris whispers back, blinking back tears. “Love you.”

From where he’s half asleep on Chris’s chest, Sebastian murmurs, “Love you, too.”

[paperstarwriters]

Untimely Thirst

I am not a MegOp shipper. I don’t mind it and it can look hekka cute at times, but I am not an active shipper of it, so take the fic with a grain of salt. It’s a Vampire/Werewolf au fic based off of this thread from @optimus-audio-fins​ and @yeetmetothehell​ (Sorry if you didn’t wanna be tagged I kinda just assumed) Also this is my first MegOp fic so... I’m a bit unused to it. Sorry.

I’m also gonna warn you that there are a few innuendos that slipped in and I’m really freaking sorry but someone is sucking someone else’s energon, OK? not my fault we decide to say the “Vampire sucked him dry” (or maybe I’m a bit dirty minded IDK) Also this has little to no editing! why? Easy, I’m lazy. Don’t hold it against me. If you find any major errors feel free to point them out. I don’t mind going in and changing things.

Having said that, enjoy!

Looking back on it, Optimus should not have jumped right back into battle after nearly getting his aft handed to him by those monster hunters. He most certainly should have taken heed of Ratchet’s warnings and even more so, he should have taken something to drink. 

Although the humans have expressed their interest and lack of fear from the fact that Optimus is basically a “space vampire” he still did not want them to learn about some of the other aspects that come with a pair of fangs. He is much more than a glorified bat— he can’t even turn into a bat! He couldn’t exactly blame them of course, their encounters with his kind were often quick and without explanation, so humans had to make up some information to explain the event to themselves. Whatever the case, he would much rather listen to Miko ask for the hundredth time if he would turn into a bat than be in this predicament.

A fight in an energon mine was something that did not often end up well, this was no exception. Too many shots deflected from themselves instead hit the walls or pillars of the cave, and now they were stuck, an enclosure far too cramped to fight in, but large enough that they could at least sit apart like civilized mechs. They were able to stand before, but between their attempts at fighting and the attempts of blasting a hole to escape, they were forced to sit together and wait for help to arrive. 

Meanwhile, Megatron fared arguably worse, at least in his own eyes. Optimus showed no sign of his predicament, while Megatron was forced to display it before himself.  During the fight he had intended to utilize his own extra ability, termed “werewolf” by humans. Aeons fighting as a gladiator allowed him to regulate his transformation, meaning he could hang in a range between his usual form and going for a full wolf, but something about Unicron’s blood affected his transformation. It took much longer to return to normal and unless he wished to walk around with dog ears and a tail he rarely turned. Today however, was a fight against Optimus. He brought his all to every match as he always did, and as a consequence, he sat in this enclosed place with Optimus trying desperately to hide his furiously wagging tail. It didn’t help that his scent filled their little room, only making his tail wag faster, and his ears twitch as he longed to rest them upon his chassis to listen to the soft thrum of his spark.

Both with their own hardships to hide, they sat, silently. Awkwardly. It was going to stay that way until they were saved. Correction, it was supposed to stay that way until they were saved. Optimus’ needs however did not relent and weighed down on him heavier than the stones above their helm. In his unwilling observations of Optimus his hardships did not go unnoticed by Megatron. The way his frame rattled as he shook, and his labored ex-venting, that caused him to flare his fangs. Not to mention the unnaturally brighter glow of his optics. In the same way Orion would have his occasional hunger pangs, Optimus, despite being a prime, still craved. Without thinking, Megatron spoke up.

“Do you need a drink?” 

He even offered his arm. It hung there a moment, while Optimus’ jaw remained in his lap. Megatron did not fare much better than a series of “ah, um, well” spilling from his vocalizer in the same fashion Starscream did when he was seriously considering the pros and cons of tearing off his wings. Or more horrifyingly, the same string of noises Orion made when he first offered his energon for him to drink. 

It took a moment for Optimus to regain his senses. Of all the things to happen that was not one of them. It took the feeling of fluids dribbling from the corners of his mouth for him to snap it shut, and consequently snap his mask on right after it.

“No.” It was flat. Bitter. Fake. His usual response, his usual demeanor against his enemy. The dance they both knew for so long. Megatron could work with this. 

“Why Prime?” he grinned, lopsided and cocky, flashing his own sharpened denta and trying to ignore how his tail seemed to pick up the pace. “Afraid I may stab you in the back? As we’ve already confirmed we cannot do that here. After all, it is your denta in my lines. If I tried anything too suspicious for you you could easily drain me. No?”

His heating fans kicked in. A loud roar amidst the silent little cavern they were stuck in, and a louder roar in Megatron’s ears. He couldn’t help it though, he did want to taste Megatron’s energon again. It was sweet, intoxicatingly so, and even more so after a battle. He could drink it for hours if he was allowed to, but that would mean that he’d hurt his friend, and in the past that’s what inevitably stopped him. Now, however, that barrier was worn down. He had no qualms about punching him, shooting at him, or even attempting to sheath his blades in his chassis. It did not however mean that he wanted him dead. No, he only wanted him back. Aeons of war and he still thought in that same foolish way he did as an archivist. Ratchet was right, he did go soft. 

“I do not want or need your energon Megatron,” he lied, staring him straight in the eye as he did. “Even if I did, it’s tainted.” 

That was true. Dark energon pulsed along with his usual energon intake, and for the first time in a long time, Megatron cursed Unicron’s blood. He didn’t have any feasible reason to convince Optimus to drink his energon. Tainted now with dark energon, his own energon must have smelled disgusting. It must have seemed revolting. At the very least he did not have to worry about his wagging tail anymore.

“It’s not like you have much of a choice.” It felt like an excuse— one he was trying to tell himself rather than Optimus. “By the way you sound, I doubt you would be able to hold up until any help arrives, yours and mine.” He leaned back smirking as he was once more granted the upper hand. “Even if you do, how hungry would you be by then? What would you do if it was your precious medic that came around? Or perhaps the scout Bumblebee? Would you drain them at first glance?” He bit his glossia then forcing his train of thought to a halt before he began to spill too much.

That… That was a good excuse to drink from Megatron’s lines again. Dark energon or not, Optimus craved to sink his denta into his proto-flesh again. To relish in the taste of energon pouring down his throat directly from Megatron’s lines. It always felt as if it was being pumped right to his awaiting glossia when he drank it right after Megatron came back from a battle. Sure, Ratchet’s energon tasted nice as well, but nothing seemed to beat the sweet flavor he got from Megatron. It took a lot of willpower just to keep himself from revving his engines, a bad habit that occurred when he got excited, carried on from his life as Orion pax. One that Megatron would most certainly notice and recognize. As much as he wanted to— as much as he craved it, he still refused to drop his guard. Why was Megatron so intent on supplying him energon anyways?

“Why...Why do you want me... to drink from you?” he managed through heavy ex-vents. It was getting bad. Incredibly bad. 

It was most certainly getting bad. Caught red handed for something he did not think about. For all his planning and consideration to convince Optimus to drink from him, he never managed to formulate a feasible excuse. For now, at least, he had to buy time. 

“Why indeed,” he wondered aloud, forcing his face into a sly grin. He allowed himself a pause to consider his next words carefully, cautious to save a part of his processor to regulate his face. “Perhaps it is to ensure that none of my troops are felled by your fangs.” That sounded… okay… right?

Apparently it did not as Optimus arched an optical ridge. “I was unaware you still cared for your crew, considering you did not raise a digit to aid them as the mine collapsed.” Right. There were most certainly a good number of Vehicons that may be caught in the rubble, and Megatron was far too preoccupied fighting Optimus to care. Optimus on the other hand did his best to ensure his team was safe, even amidst fighting him.

He chuckled at the comment and smirked, a look that irked and irritated Optimus. Just let him suffer in peace already. The more this dragged on the more he could feel his defenses wear down. “Well, Prime, perhaps I wanted to see you succumb to your… oh, what was it called again?” No. He knew well what it was called and he refused. “I recall Orion talking all about it once… ah yes, an energon frenzy, wasn’t it?” If he was in that state, he could rip him apart. Turn feral with barely a twitch of an optic. Of course that was what Megatron wanted. Force him to fight on his level. Like a gladiator, only concerned for their own life. Like a monster, without thinking. It made his lines run cold.

Perhaps he overstepped his bounds. Optimus was no longer trembling, his armor instead clamping around his frame. Even his auditals which Megatron had taken to watching twitch back and forth while Optimus wasn’t looking now froze in place before they lowered in the same manner he would flatten his ears against his helm. The only remaining reminder of his hunger was in the burn of his optics, now glowing far brighter than it did before, the bright beams focused right on him in a hateful glare. A spotlight for him and him alone, and one he was used to returning with a smile.

They glared at one another, a glare that any from their own teams would be interpreted as hateful glares, seeking to eagerly claw out one another’s optics if only the situation had been better. Instead, two masks faced one another—

I want to drink Megatron’s energon!

I want Optimus to drink my energon!

—both hiding the same thing.

They sat there for a few more minutes, glaring before the tremors returned. They were barely noticeable at first if not for the aid of Megatron’s heightened hearing. Slowly that grin became real. He grew eager awaiting Optimus’ inevitable unravel before him. Simultaneously, Optimus’ scowl, revealed once his battle mask snapped back from the increasing tremors, became more real as well. He did not wish to succumb to Megatron’s wishes, but more so, he did not want to end up sucking Megatron dry.

The tremors increased, and the haze was beginning to seep into his processor. Everything smelled so heavily of energon— likely because they were in a collapsed energon mine— but it smelled specifically of Megatron’s energon. His spark spun in his chest as the dizzying urge overtook his processor, crawling over his shielding walls and forcing his optics to snap away. To look away, to look anywhere else but at Megatron.

He leaned onto his servos now, mouth opening and closing as he panted, showing off his denta glowing red as they were caught in the spotlight of his optics. He was only vaguely aware of his wagging tail as he watched Optimus come undone. It took a tremendous amount of willpower to keep himself from bending as well, he wanted Optimus to ask him, but if it took any longer…

“Megatron.” He sounded so strangely weak despite the bright intensity of his optics. “May I drink your energon?”

There’s drool slipping past his fangs, dripping down his chin and onto the floor, but he cannot find the will inside himself to care. He’s so, so thirsty, and while any energon would suffice at this point, he doesn’t want anyone else’s. Even if help were to arrive, just in the bare nick of time, both the Autobots and the Decepticons would have to pry him from Megatron. Even though Megatron offered first, it still comes as a surprise when he immediately raises his arm before him. Optimus is only vaguely aware of the soft and subtle thump as Megatron’s tail hits the ground in it’s furious wagging, but he doesn’t have the mind to process such or to even care. He traces the seams in his armour, mostly the same since he last drank from him, and he opens his mouth to sink his fangs into the proto-flesh at one of the seams. 

Dark energon is strangely sweet, but it’s a fake candy-like flavor that is easily distinguished from Megatron’s own energon. It’s every bit as intoxicating as he remembered long ago sweet, but now a degree of something savory was so much clearer now, whether this was enhanced by the dark energon, or time and aging, he may never know. Whatever the case, he greedily drank what his energon lines pumped onto his tongue, savoring every drop, knowing it may be many more aeons before he was granted another taste.

Megatron’s tail hit the ground so harshly that it was beginning to hurt. The bite on the other hand felt blissful, painless, and as wonderful as it did long ago. The sheer trust needed to offer someone like Optimus in order to make sure they were not drained of their energon, was not lost upon him. As much as the idea mixed with the ongoing war made his tanks twist into knots, he shoved them to the back of his processor. He’d use it as an excuse later. A reason why he most certainly did not indulge in such a… close encounter. For now Megatron let himself feel his energon flow into Optimus. A piece of himself being given to Optimus. Romantic, in some incredibly twisted sense, befitting for the two of them. Miraculously, even though Optimus was drinking Dark energon, it did not take any visible effect. 

It would take a while for Dark Energon to properly settle in his energon lines. An upside to being a “space vampire” his resistance to foreign energons was much higher and with the added aid of the matrix, the two seemed to cancel each other out. Meaning he could continue to drink for just a little longer. He could take another sip of his fallen friend’s energon. He could savor another taste of Megatron. He was deaf to everything but the slow thrum of his energon lines and his spark. He wanted more— he wanted it all. Greedily he kept drinking and drinking, becoming more and more lost. A blood frenzy was approaching, he could feel it, feel it dribble into his consciousness, but this was what Megatron wanted to see wasn’t it? If Megatron wanted to see him delve into madness the same way he did for dark energon, he was more than willing to put on a show, more than willing to show off because he—

“Orion.” It was a soft whisper, strained as Megatron glared with tired optics.

Otpimus tore himself from his enemy’s arm checking internally for his energon levels and most importantly dark energon levels. It was close. If he drank any more, he may have actually begun to have some problems. It was diluted with regular energon, something that likely aided the slow intake. Optimus spared a worried glance to Megatron, who’s smirk seemed much more forced now that he could focus on it. The wagging tail and twitching ears became quickly apparent as well and just before Optimus could ask him about it, Megatron beat him to the punch.

“No, energon frenzy? Funny seeing as you were just about to drink me dry.” He chuckled earning a scowl from Optimus.

In that moment, a stone was shoved aside, revealing a beam of light other than their red and blue ones. A breath of fresh air seeped in through the hole, washing away the scent of energon, and each other. 

“Optimus! Are you okay there?”

“Just fine, Bulkhead.”

More rocks were scooped away, and the two war leaders stumbled out into the excavated cavern. Optimus wavered his audital fins still twitching as he felt the tendrils of that energon frenzy seeping into him, already draining his mental energy as he fought against it. Megatron fared no better having been literally drained, as he was taken aside by Soundwave Bulkhead scowled giving a stiff nod to the silent mech who returned the nod before they parted ways, their leaders in tow. 

“Sorry Prime, I had to team up with him to get you out…” Bulkhead muttered as if it was a horrible act. “In... the moment it was a wise choice Bulkhead…. I… I appreciate your efforts.” He managed to mumble as a ground bridge opened up. The swirling colors made him dizzy and irritated, but he forced himself to keep quiet about it.

“You sure you were okay with bucket head?” It took him a moment, recalling Miko having coined the name after Megatron and his helm’s likeness to a bucket. 

He considered his choices in what to say, taking care to avoid the truth, overthinking it immensely as he settled on, “it was fine.”

“Ratchet’s got some energon for you when you get back to base, just hold on a little longer Prime” Optimus barely managed to hide his grin, tuning away just in time to see Megatron disappear in his own ground bridge a safe distance away.

“It’s alright Bulkhead. I’ve had my fill.”

Now, if only he took the chance to pet him.

[ghostmartyr]

So if you, like me, have nothing to do but wonder about the state of my inbox, you might rightfully be wondering how I plan to deal with the obscene backlog I have spent so many years failing to deal with.

If you have never wondered that, fear not, that doesn’t exclude you from finding out.

Today we’re just going to go through my entire slew of unanswered asks, and instead of answering them, I am going to provide excuses for why I didn’t do anything with them.

For added fun, several of the asks were in my Drafts.

I will not be cutting out the comments I started to make.

I will no doubt regret this.

Let’s have a time, shall we?

I don’t even know what year this is from. If I remember correctly, I didn’t get back to you because I thought about trying to reason out who would legitimately win, and there were too many points for both sides. I kept intending to come up with a proper answer, then time went by and this got buried.

Though the actual answer is probably “it depends on who gets the main character sticker at the time.”

...

..

.

Well.

I can tell you this is multiple years old.

We, as humans, aren’t equipped for time travel.

I didn’t answer this one because I didn’t feel like it was asking for one, and I’m only reproducing it here because it is really, really funny now.

Two years old. Plus change.

I think the entire reason I never replied to this one is that it cheered me up whenever I scrolled down enough to see it, so thank you.

You know, I entered the link at the time. Really, I did. But then came trying to come up with a comment and what can you really follow that with?

(Click the link.)

Okay then.

I still feel no need to respond to this, so that’s probably why I didn’t to start with.

Historia and literally anyone.

I don’t remember why I didn’t answer this, which usually means some combination of feeling tired and not being in the mood to scroll down to where it was.

Oops.

The thing is, this crosses dangerously close to being a fic idea. Fic ideas take time and effort. You can imagine the absolute dread I felt at having to engage with either concept.

It would have been a lot of fun to do, though. Hats off.

See, again. This is a very interesting concept that requires thought. I can tell you when I received it I was in no mood for anything that required anything of the sort.

I wrote a fic that is possibly never going to see the light of day now where they hang out in a kitchen with hot chocolate together and bond through unstated trauma and Frieda attempting to make things better.

That probably contributed to interfering with imagining how they would actually get along.

Anyway, I ship them slightly in that fic AU. Don’t @ me.

Oh dang. I remember this.

I actually really wanted to answer it, but the problem is that I wanted to come up with a good answer. Every character, tiered by their chances. A full Hunger Games edition of what went down and who killed who.

Then I didn’t.

Anyway, turns out the answer is that no one feels the need to chop of rocking chairs in a hurry, so she’d last a long time!

I didn’t answer this because I try to avoid responding with, “I don’t know.” My secondary answer would probably have been, “By being killed.”

Not that there’s anything wrong with those answers, but unless there’s been a tonal trend in asks, I assume that pithy answers that don’t actually have any meat behind them would not be appreciated.

I would stick to him probably being killed, though. But some signs do point to him being relatively immortal.

Hm.

Hmm.

I don’t know why I didn’t answer this, but I would guess it had something to do with me caring very little about Ymir’s thoughts on anything outside of her little clutch of people. And ongoing trauma of repeated dead/alive Ymir commentary killing off my desire to come up with a good answer.

Sorry?

I... have no idea why I didn’t answer this? Maybe I didn’t see it?

Anyway, yes.

There’s a longer version behind that yes, and I’m sure that might have contributed to never getting around to answering this. ...Assuming a past where I did actually see this one.

I have a confession.

I don’t really like crossovers.

There’s a sliding scale of degree, but that’s basically why this didn’t get a response.

Ah, we’ve landed on a recurring theme.

Sometimes, answers involve me thinking about the entire cast.

The usual consequence of that is I don’t have the energy for that, so nothing ever happens with these.

Oh, this one’s easy.

I had no fucking clue.

No ideas, head empty.

That didn’t seem like a good answer, so here we are, probably around a year later. I still have no clue. If I were forced to write a singing duo AU, I would probably just put some adjectives and nouns into a blender and flip a coin.

Names are hard.

I think I didn’t answer this one because I felt like I’d answered similar asks before. And I’m not really sure when this is from, but it’s possible canon complicated coming up with an answer that wasn’t distressed screeching.

Something something give Connie and Mikasa hugs, not partial about where they get them from.

Apparently not. Oops.

I can’t remember why I didn’t respond to this one. It’s possible the oodles of bad parenting proved too distracting to formulate such a post.

Sometimes I get an ask, and my immediate, gut reaction is, how the fuck should I know?

If I can move past that, the ask is answered.

If I can’t, the ask continues its descent through scroll hell.

I am sorry. There are no answers here.

Yeah, this is just the same as the above, just with I have no idea.

It’d probably be a Madoka Magic deal.

Huh. I don’t remember passing this one over. If I were to guess a timeline, I was probably too bitter over potential post-timeskip looks that I never got to be interested in focusing on the characters lucky enough to get good ones.

Go Connie for being less short, I suppose.

This clearly belonged to something that I was doing, but time has eroded the context, so I am simply left with failure and disappointment on all sides. Sorry.

Aw, we’re getting into the boring part of the inbox now, I think. Not because of the questions; you guys are always great. But I can’t think of a reason why I wouldn’t have answered this, which leads me to think that the reason was I was too tired to put words together.

That’s a boring reason, so maybe I should go into Drafts for the next few...

Yeah, still unfairly prejudiced against crossovers. I am no fun, etc. etc.

I have no memory of it, but I feel like I didn’t answer this because there was no way I could match this kindly anon’s enthusiasm.

You go, random internet person.

You have good ideas.

Oh no.

Uh.

See.

I know exactly why I didn’t answer this one.

I am so sorry, Anon.

I really didn’t care.

I am filled with affection for you because you clearly do, but uh.

...I basically put this on Read.

This has a very simple, ie boring, explanation. Any time someone asks about the cast as a whole, I want to think about the cast as a whole, and that takes a lot more thought than most of the asks I get. Cue putting it off. Cue it getting lost in scroll hell. On and on we go until we end up here.

Anything that opens with kilometers is something that requires more brain power than I have had in the past year.

Also I think I got this during a spoiler week, so I saw it, but I was trying not to look at it, and then it got lost in the post-chapter asks.

That happens a lot.

We might see it more soon.

If I can’t come up with words more than “-shrug-” I try not to answer.

...Good news, though!

The manga did my job for me!

I feel like I answered some variation of this. That might be why I didn’t answer this specific one.

The wiki does a better job keeping track of the timeline than I ever have. I probably didn’t answer this because it would involve trying to remember which volume actually name-dropped a number of weeks or months. Searching for lines I know a character said is pretty easy, but searching out lines I have a vague feeling of someone providing? That tends to hit the frustration button with the force of a truck.

But yeah, if you ever want to know how long something took, the wiki is absolutely your friend. They do good work.

Consider: “What if” questions are hard, and I am lazy.

This is actually one I really did mean to get to, sorry. It’s an interesting thought, and I miss Sasha.

...I clearly did a magnificent job answering your asks, friend.

Prediction asks are hard for me; I feel like I’m throwing darts randomly into the air and the dartboard is still deciding if it’s going to show up. So uh. I guess I just kept putting this off until it didn’t get answered.

This post is going to have so many apologies. Implied and otherwise.

I continue to be the No Fun Police who accidentally-on-purpose avoids crossover commentary.

I feel like I didn’t answer this one entirely because seeing it in my inbox gave me far too much joy to have it lost in a sea of posts.

This is what my inbox was made for.

I have no idea when this was from, but I see your emotions and appreciate them, Anon.

...Did I not see this one?

Hey, Anon who probably doesn’t remember sending this: This is a good ask and deserved some good attention, and I’m sorry I missed my shot at it. Good thoughts.

I didn’t answer this one entirely because I knew I couldn’t match the energy of it, and responding with anything less felt heretical.

That is one hell of a mood, Anon.

This is definitely from the era of, “Can’t think, brain empty.” Sorry about not getting back to you, I just really couldn’t organize my thoughts well enough to come up with an answer.

I feel like I didn’t know what this was continuing from and was too exhausted to ask.

LOOK YOU CAN SEE I WANTED TO ANSWER THIS BECAUSE IT’S A DRAFT.

Too many things, Anon.

I liked so many things about all of that. Trying to turn that enthusiasm into words wasn’t agreeing with me, so I put it in Drafts and told myself one day I’d do the most awesome post detailing everything.

Intentions, huh?

Every time I tried to take a normal screenshot with formatting Tumblr just laughed at me, so that might have been a contributing factor.

Dang, I’m really sorry. This is another one of those cases where I wanted to take my time with a response, and I took too long.

I, uh.

Am guilty of not being too interested in pondering Ymir’s thoughts on Levi or Erwin.

That’s it, that’s the explanation.

Yeah, I just couldn’t come up with an answer here? Or someone else asked? Or several of my friends decided to be annoying about lists on Discord? I don’t even know.

Presumably there could be a list.

There is not.

Honestly, I just couldn’t figure out how to follow that starting sentence up. A thought exercise on Armin, Historia, gender, and themes sounded really interesting, and I put it in Drafts so as not to forget it being interesting.

Then, you know. This post sort of paints the picture.

Ah.

Man, I really was looking forward to putting some proper thought into this. That’s the problem with having so many things I love in one place, I guess. Symbolism? Historia and Ymir? Mikasa? So many good things! Where do I start!

With paralyzing indecision that results in not a lot. Sorry, Anon. This really did light up my day when I got it.

Here’s the thing about me and writing:

I often fail to.

(I love both these ideas, though.)

Yes.

Do I know why I didn’t get around to answering this?

Absolutely not.

But yes, I’d agree with that.

GOOD NEWS!

The manga actually gave us some of them together in the future.

I occasionally giggled over their shared distaste.

It was a good time.

And this is another one I just do not know why I didn’t answer, whoops.

This never got answered because I couldn’t come up with an answer.

Broad questions are scary because they can go just about anywhere and I didn’t know how to handle that level of commitment.

I think I didn’t answer this one, A), because words are hard, and B), because mostly I just wanted to listen to more of your wondering and less of mine.

I probably could have answered this by saying I don’t have any, but that seemed rude, so I didn’t respond to it at all.

Yep.

Frieda is worthy of my time and effort.

Landing this in Drafts instead of my inbox.

Where the lighting makes it more obvious that hope has gone there to die.

I think about it so much too.

I find the answers fundamentally upsetting.

That is probably why I did not provide an answer here.

That is a lot of kids to make up headcanons for.

So I didn’t.

She’s eaten by dogs before she develops a personality.

Since that seemed like the wrong thing to say, I said nothing, and into Drafts this went.

‘I have no earthly clue’ seemed similarly unhelpful.

At this point, we understand that there is no mystery to my backlog.

This one hurts.

-sees the 112 reference-

Wow does it hurt.

As I hope is obvious, I really, really loved this question, and kept meaning to carve out time to work on it specifically. What went sideways was trying to put words to how EMA functions. I knew the feel of what I wanted to express, but every time I tried to write it, it came out wonky.

I’m very sorry I couldn’t do anything for this, because I was thrilled to spend time with it.

I didn’t answer this because Fuck Marley.

It’s nothing against you. At the time, I simply wasn’t in any mood to consider any version of Marley. Even the canon version was too much for me, so giving it my time in a roleswap AU had me hissing.

Roleswaps in general are amazing, and I love them a lot. A dedicated person could make a fantastic one based around Marley and Paradis. I think it would probably be cool af.

But I was so tired of Marley when I got this, I just couldn’t make myself think about it. Sorry. It’s a fun idea.

I didn’t answer this one because I kept trying to extend my response past, “I think he just really likes baseball.”

I think he just really likes baseball.

My feelings on that as a quality answer are derogatory.

Mm. The ones where I actually tried to get something started hurts.

Ultimately, this ask was a larger demand than I could make my brain work through at the time. I made sure to write down the tl;dr version of Sasha’s, because I found that desperately important, and not something that people talk about much, but the additional weight of trying to think of themes for multiple characters made it hard to progress.

Me, looking at the prompts: Hi my brain left me.

Sorry, Anon. Too many gears were moving for me to get a proper feel for what I wanted to do with this one, so I ended up ditching it. ...I was planning to finish it, though. Eventually. See, I even put the quote in the Draft version as a reminder of what I was doing, so I could get back to it right away.

Yeeeeah, this is just one more to the “I will give this wonderful thing all the time it deserves!” pile.

The pile is stored in the Failure Corner.

Perfectionism is the enemy of progress.

You guys really like crossovers.

I love that for you.

-spends two years ignoring you-

I mean, I just didn’t know what to do with the rainbows.

They sure are there.

They sure are pretty.

I sure couldn’t come up with a comment to add.

...I don’t know why I didn’t answer this. Possibly because I think it’s fine? I’m not too attached to it, and spent the whole manga period wanting to watch an anime version instead, then we got an anime version.

I’d guess that my general “meh” feelings interfered with responding here.

No idea why I didn’t answer this.

Yes, and good for you.

I support all thoughts on giving the Reiss kiddos personalities.

I think I didn’t get back to you on this because I wasn’t sure how to encourage you to keep going so I just sat awkwardly on my hands and felt weird about not saying anything.

...Thanks for sharing!

I love how it’s the little things that date these.

Unfortunately, we’re now at the point where 90% of the reason I didn’t answer was because I was too sick to muster up anything approaching enthusiasm.

Or because I’d just finished answering a bunch of chapter-specific things and was burnt out.

This felt pretty self-explanatory to me, so I felt like that gave me permission to ignore it.

Also, it mentions Marley.

I might be slightly petty.

Really though, I think what stopped me from giving a proper answer is that the question of what an author is trying to say throws me off a little. I work better thinking of it in terms of what the story is saying, with the author just happening to be the hands that wrote it all down.

I don’t know. This was probably another case of feeling like I should give this more of my time than I was able.

I couldn’t decide.

That’s it.

That’s the reason.

Everyone needs to give Mikasa a hug.

My blog title for a hug.

-the crossover snake hisses and consumes another-

I am so sorry.

This is fun.

I probably should have just gone with posting and saying so, because I am genuinely charmed by this. I tend to feel like I have to add something to asks to justify the post. That policy maybe didn’t need to be a thing.

I love my anons.

I want that to be clear.

Really, I do.

I especially love their willingness to embrace my crackpot logic.

Still.

Sometimes, the only response one can have to Schrodinger’s Ymir is to ignore its existence, find a pillow, and scream into it for the rest of time.

This replaces typing.

-looks at Armin-

-looks at Eren-

Yeah, don’t know why I didn’t answer this one, either. I blame tiredness? Sorry about that.

I feel like I didn’t answer this one because it felt like work.

This is where I start considering that making this post was a mistake.

I could have just agreed with you and gone about my day.

Probably should have.

Did not.

Another one for that, “had nothing to add so I just left it in a corner, abandoned and unloved,” pile.

There is an apology section at the end, but we’re not there yet.

This one I don’t think I noticed.

Alternatively, I did notice, and wasn’t sure “Yes,” would pass as a good enough answer.

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

Okay, time to really just get into it: I think for the remainder of my inbox, I didn’t answer because physically, I was just too damn exhausted, and I kept waiting for a point in time where I’d feel better. Sorry to put a limit on the personalization, but in the end, that’s all there was to it, and rephrasing it a dozen times will make me crazy.

And here we are.

Well.

Good grief, do you guys even have any clue how much I like all of you?

Obviously there’s a lot of guilt in the above, because I can’t tell you how much I wanted, each time, to give a great answer that would make you thrilled you messaged me. I am so sorry to all of these I didn’t get to. There were days when the alerts in my inbox were the best thing to happen to me, and I never wanted to let any of them go without acknowledgment.

I try to say thank you as often as I can in my responses, because that’s as close as I can get to reminding you all, constantly, that I am grateful for your participation. The only times I don’t say it is when I worry that it’ll look like it’s being done out of habit, not genuine gratitude. Or when I think you might take it the wrong way if I say thanks for a basic conversation. Because you provide me content and make me interested in things I might not normally look twice at.

There are so many instances of people saying hi, and thank you, and wishing everyone well here.

I haven’t been active in the larger fandom in two years, but I have always been so happy that you guys kept dropping by my space anyway.

You are a pleasure and light in my life, no matter how much snark I might throw about.

Thank you all.

[bleedingthirium]

Gavin x Reader (Dreams Come True)

Title: Dreams Come True Words: 10,300 (sorrynotsorry) Genre: Emotional Hurt-Comfort, Fluff, Romance Characters: Gavin Reed x Fem!Reader + Nines (platonically) Warnings: Um, it’s super long, rushed in some places, completely unedited because, let’s be real, who has time to edit? and just chaotically structured writing. Authors Note: Really self-concious of this fic. It didn’t turn out anywhere near as good as I hoped it would. So catch my sobbing at Gavin’s desk. This is for @bring-me-a-coffee-dipshit because she’s been feeling down and no one hurts my baby! Me & my DCPD boys will protecc this gem. Also, I don’t know how to write long fics. Hence the chaotic messy structure of writing. I’m not a professional. I also don’t know how to write short fics either because this was supposed to be written done ‘n’ dusted within a day. And it took over a week! Probs should’ve put in parts. But I’m also lazy so... ENJOY!

Summary: Gavin gets a phonecall stating reader has been admitted to hospital due to fainting from stress. There’s only one thing that can stress reader out to such a point and Gavin is PISSED.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇ Nothing ever seemed to feel good enough for anyone. You tried your best, but your best wasn’t good enough. You were in desperate need of a break because you could feel yourself breaking down. It was hard to find the strength to smile, and where you normally would smile, tears threatened to present themselves in the corners of your eyes. Luckily a deep, slow breath and an eye-roll to the heavens as if praying the pain away, seemed to keep those negative emotions at bay. The factor of your stress was the preparation of exams, and understandably so. Exams were always a stressful time for everybody, but it seemed to be the worst time for everything to come crumbling down around you.

You had a phone call from your Mother, who seemed to always find something to nitpick about you. Normally you could just shrug your shoulders at the end of the phone call and go about your day. Either you were high on stress already, or what your Mother said seemed to have hit too close to your heart, validating those fears you had; that you were destined to be a failure, your grandparents would be disappointed in you, your mother is currently disappointed in you (yes, she said that!), all because you decided to pursue business studies and get a degree in Business so that, one day, you could open a new bookstore and run it the way you want to; for it to be a unique and welcomed independent store rather than a big chain retail store. Your Mother would have much preferred you to pursue a more beneficial career, something like Politics, Medicine or Law. Something that was, unfortunately, too out of your league of knowledge. It wasn’t for lack of trying. You would have loved to have become a woman of medicine, a scientist even! You find all that fascinating and constantly reading journals, watching documentaries… but you are just unable to retain the information. It’s not because you’re dumb. It’s just how life is. But your Mother had no problem calling you out on it and quite plainly stating that you’re dumb. “I never expected to raise a child whose IQ is lower than the average person. What was the point in supporting your studies if you weren’t going to build a decent career for yourself? At least your boyfriend has a decent career. You should be disappointed and ashamed of yourself. Because I am.” That was the phone call of the morning that had started your bad day. You already had a bad week regardless. Stressing over studies and exams, and then dealing with rude customers at your local part-time job. You loved your job, you enjoyed helping customers but the rude ones… It really began to take its toll on you. And you didn’t want to whine to your boyfriend at the end of the day because he has much longer shifts than you, and his occupation is physically and mentally demanding. The last thing you wanted to do was bitch to him about your menial day when he could’ve been dealing with bigger shit. “Can’t believe someone as dumb as you is working in a place like this. The easiest job in the world and you managed to fuck up my order. I want to speak to your manager.” It was one tiny mistake that could have easily been rectified had this customer given you the chance to apologise and correct your mistake. No harm done. Instead, you were left speechless at the sudden onslaught of insults that your own mother basically spat at you hours earlier. You call your manager as per requested and allowed him to deescalate the situation while you excused yourself to assist other customers. At the end of the day you were called in to his office and even with the door shut, every word could loudly be heard in the staff lunch room as you were being berated over the incident earlier. The entire day had been an extremely bad one in general and you were more than glad to go home. Unfortunately everything began to drown you all at once. You didn’t even make it to your bus stop when your hands began to tremble violently, your legs felt like jelly, your heart was pounding so painfully in your chest that it was like knives were beginning to stab at you from the inside, noises were muted out yet you swore you could hear yourself struggling to breathe as well as hearing the blood rushing in your veins right in your ear. You didn’t even hear anyone call out when you collapsed.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

It was a slow day at the Precinct which was both a blessing and a curse; it meant no major crimes had taken place, but it also meant that Gavin was stuck with paperwork – something that he despised doing and would often neglect to do, and then in situations like today, he now has a mountain of neglected paperwork to get through. It was beginning to drive him mental, and oddly enough, Gavin was beginning to get on Nines’ nerves. Understand that Nines can deal with every annoying, conceivable flaw that Gavin has, but today Gavin had managed to push Nines over the edge. “Let’s go get some lunch. Out of the office.” Nines suggested, placing his pen down and leaning back against his chair, blue eyes looking over at Gavin. “Best idea you’ve had all day.” Gavin agreed a bit too quickly, though it didn’t come as a surprise to Nines. Typical that Gavin would agree to anything that would get him out of doing paperwork. Nevertheless, Nines hadn’t seen Gavin consume anything nutritious since arriving at the Precinct. This would be a great subtle way to get him to consume some sustenance. Gavin drove downtown, a little bit away from the Precinct just so he didn’t feel so closed-in with work; he wanted to enjoy his food not think about work. But as luck would have it, his phone rang. “You gotta be fucking kidding me! Can’t even take a lunch break!” came the grumbled as one hand left the steering wheel to answer the phone, only for his hand to be swatted away. “I’ll answer it, you need to abide by the road laws.” “Bite me. If it’s Fowler, remind him that he does have other fucking officers there.” It wasn’t Fowler. It was an unknown number, but local, according to the area code. “Detective Reed’s phone.” “Is this Gavin Reed?” “Detective Reed is currently driving. May I ask what the nature of the call is?” “I’m Doctor William Kent from the Detroit General Hospital, I’m calling to let Mr. Reed know that his partner is currently admitted under our care.” “Any injuries?” “No, she came through the emergency from fainting.” “Fainting? What was the cause?” “A panic attack most likely.” “We’re on our way.” “What?” Gavin asked as Nines ended the call but continued to hold the communications device in his hands to prevent Gavin from breaking the law of being on the phone while driving. He ought to upgrade his car a little, get a Bluetooth speaker that can accept incoming and outgoing calls. Or invest in a phone cradle at the very least. What was the point in becoming a Detective if you weren’t going to uphold the law? “Y/N has been admitted to the Detroit General Hospital under –“ “Why? What’s wrong? Is she hurt? Did they say anything?” Gavin interrupted in a mild state of his own panic, Nines noticing his stress levels rising a little bit. ���Under the emergency of fainting from a panic attack.” Nines calmly finished despite being interrupted. Gripping the steering wheel of the car tightly to the point where his knuckles turned white, Gavin forced himself to keep to the speed limit as he took a left turn instead of going straight ahead to their original location. You weren’t injured, that was his main priority. You weren’t injured. But you fainted. You weren’t pregnant, it wasn’t a hot day, and as far as he knew you didn’t have a fever… It was just… Stress. He knew you were stressing over your studies but he didn’t think it was this bad. Was he really that shit of a boyfriend that he overlooked the clues of your stress levels? What kind of Detective doesn’t pick up on displays of body behavior? Gavin had been oddly quiet since the phone call and arriving at the hospital. Mentally beating himself up for not being as attentive to her as a boyfriend should. He was so caught up in a case that he took to working around the clock in order to bring it close. - “Babe? I gotta stay back. We’ve got a lead and we’re so close.” The dreaded phone call came through one night, but you weren’t surprised or frustrated. He had began coming home late at night so you knew he was working on a case that required a lot of his attention as well as priority of needing to bring it to a close before anything more bad comes of it. “It’s fine, Gavin. Honestly. Just make sure you eat something. Coffee isn’t food.” “You sound like Nines.” “Well maybe you should listen. You’re a good Detective but you’re a shit listener.” You both chuckled at the light teasing before he needed to get back to work. “I love you Gavin.” “Yeah. Yeah… I love you too. G’night Babe.” “’Night.” You both hung up and Gavin remembered how lucky he felt to have someone who understood him and his position. Granted, he didn’t have to stay back and pull an all-nighter, but when he had a lead and he was on a roll, it was best to let him go. His previous partner didn’t understand and he would often come home to a pissed-off partner, yelling arguments ensued… But with you, he came home to a home-cooked meal wrapped up in the fridge so all he had to do was microwave it, sometimes there was a little note on the fridge of microwave door that simply read ‘I love you.’ One time you even put a note on the coffee machine with two large letters, ‘NO’ and a frowny face. Guess you caught on to the fact that he’d come home and have a coffee before bed. A bad habit you were trying to get him out of. “If you want something that tastes sweet but bitter, come have me.” You teased when you first told him off for having coffee so late at night. Precinct nights are fine, you understood the need for caffeine then, but when he’s home – that’s a solid ‘no’. He had tilted his head back and let out a deep, gorgeous laugh. His eyes crinkling from the wide grin he wore on his permanently exhausted features, “Babe, there is nothing bitter about you. I don’t think you even know how to be ‘bitter’.” You definitely won that argument as his hands rested on your hips and pulled them to his. His smiling lips brushed against yours before taking you into a deep kiss, only to pull back ever so slightly, “Mm, definitely no bitterness.” “No bitterness?” “Only sweetness.” Your own lips turned up into a playful smirk, eyebrows quirking up ever so slightly, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pulled him down into another heated kiss, murmuring “I know something else that’s sweet.” “Oh yeah?” “Yeah.” You breathed against his lips as you began to tug him out of the kitchen. - “Gavin!” A stern voice interrupted the males thoughts as he was still tightly gripping the steering wheel, car idling despite already pulled into a parking bay. Head quickly turned to glance at Nines, blinking as Gavin came back to his surroundings with a sinking heart. “I let her down, Nines.” He sighed out the burdened confession as his hands dropped from the wheel, one hand pulling the gear stick into ‘park.’, the other flicking the engine off before both hands dropped into his lap. Nines LED flickered to yellow as he watched the storm of emotions engulf Gavin, who was staring guiltily ahead at the looming building of the hospital. “You did no such thing, Gavin. I can’t always tell when you’re stressed out until you snap. It doesn’t make me any less of a competent colleague to you, does it?” “Friend.” Gavin corrected but sighed softly as he agreed, “No, it doesn’t. But…fuck!” Nines quietly waited until Gavin’s strew of emotions calmed down. Sometimes the more Nines tried to reason with the Detective, the more angered Gavin became. He found it beneficial to wait until Gavin was calm enough to see reason. “Alright. Let’s go. You comin’ with me or what?” “Only to protect the medical faculty should you lose your temper at them.” Nines made up the half excuse. Partially knowing that if something involving Gavin’s lover ‘girlfriend’, there’s a high percentage that Gavin would lose his patience with the medical team over things he didn’t understand. Such a situation being if they needed to keep her in for a few nights, Gavin might argue about taking her home, not understanding their reason. At least with Nines there, he can easily diffuse any situation before Gavin escalates to an annoyingly level of inconvenience. As they entered the hospital, Gavin made a beeline for the reception desk. “Can you tell me where Y/N Y/L/N is?” Nines caught up to Gavin just as directions were given. She wasn’t too far. Second floor. At least she wasn’t in the opposite wing of the hospital. Taking the elevator to the floor, Nines quietly accompanied Gavin as the two began the pathway to where your room was located. The only times Nines spoke was when he called Gavin’s attention and gestured to the correct room number. As the two walked past the window where the blinds were open, they could see you sitting on the bed, cross-legged but curled in on yourself, staring at the white blanket. Your face void of emotion but also looking like you’re about to burst into tears at any given moment. Nines would be lying if he said that what he saw didn’t affect him somehow. Something tugged painfully at his synthetic heart. Which was odd because he knew his systems were running at 100% perfect stability. The flicker of his LED from the calm blue to a violent red was enough physical evidence to give away that the stoic RK900 android was worried about you. This was not you. You were normally cheerful, bubbly, hardly ever without a smile unless you were deep in thought or focused on a task. Even being given something as simple as a single flower or a cup of tea would cause you to smile for hours. You cherished the little things. Nines thought you were just a clueless na��ve human being when he first met you. Little did he realize, at the time, that there was nothing naïve about having a heart of gold. For the heart you carried brought so much joy to Gavin, made him more tolerable in the workplace, and seemingly a better and healthier person. You were a good influence on him. And Nines couldn’t help but notice how everyone welcomed you when you stepped into the Precinct. They were all happy to talk to someone new, get some stories of an adorable domestic Gavin… To put it simply, you were a walking ray of sunshine. Even Nines found himself feeling elated whenever he saw you. Nines stood to the side, allowing Gavin some privacy with you as he entered the room with a gentle rap of his knuckles against the door. “Babe?” ◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇ You lifted your head at the sound of a voice that always felt like home to you. The first words to you spoke was a heartbroken plea, “Gavin? God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” Immediately Gavin was by your side. “Hey, hey. No. No, you’re okay. It’s okay.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, taking your hand and enveloping it in his. Your other hand had a strap around the wrist and finger, attached to a machine as it monitored your pulse rate. You also had two sticky pads to your chest with thin wires popping out from the neckline of your work shirt, monitoring your heartrate.

“You got me out of paperwork so, y’know, thank you.” He murmured playfully, trying to lighten your mood and bring a smile to your face. But it didn’t work and he certainly didn’t expect it to. You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t say anything. Sometimes it was like everything shut down and plunged you in a numb state, and then the next minute you felt like you could burst into tears and drown your soul beneath the floods. Nines watched from the window as you collapsed your head against Gavin’s shoulder, hiding your face in his neck. You didn’t appear to be sobbing but your shoulders sagged in defeat. Gavin’s torso twisted slightly to accommodate the new position as he wrapped his arms around you, murmuring softly in your ear. (“It’s alright. ‘M here. I’ve got you.”) Occasionally pressing kisses against your forehead. It fascinated him the way Detective Reed worked. He was a smart-mouthed asshole at work, probably less since you’ve been with him. Heavy sarcasm. Matching quip for quip with Nines. Dangerously short-tempered. Definitely plays the role of ‘bad cop’ in the interrogation rooms. But with you… it’s hard to see him as the short-tempered grumpy Detective he’s known to be. There’s a new gentle side that Nines knew he had but never saw it. Until now.

There was a knock to the door as the Doctor approached, the nursing staff most likely have informed him that your emergency contacts have arrived. You immediately pulled away and curled back in on yourself as Gavin stood up to shake hands with the Doctor. “Detective Reed, I presume? Doctor Kent.” This time Nines entered the room now that the Doctor was present and blue eyes immediately dropped onto your huddled figure. Your cortisol levels were high, your serotonin levels were low. There was clearly more than just stress, hints of depression perhaps? None of the medical staff seemed to have picked up on that. Mind, Nines wasn’t programmed to read a human body psychologically, so he wasn’t equipped to make such bold conclusions. “I’m relieved to see your unharmed, Y/N.” Nines gently greeted you, trying to bring a softer tone to his usually sharp matter-of-fact tone. You offered a small smile but Nines could see your bottom lip quivering and the smile and gaze immediately dropped, going unnoticed by both Doctor and Detective as the two conversed, Nines bringing his attention back to the conversation. “How’s she been sleeping?” “Uh, decently. She studies throughout the night. Not coming to bed until near midnight.” “What time does she wake up in the mornings?” “5 or 6ish, I guess.” “The healthy amount of sleep an average person should be getting is 8 hours. 7 at the bare minimum. The lack of sleep that, I’m assuming has been ongoing, leaves her in a sleep-deprived state on top of studies for exams. As a Doctor, I know how grueling studies and exams can be. So I know that her lack of sleep isn’t helping in any way whatsoever to her studies. Any other stressful factors in her life? At home?” “Not that I’m aware of.” Gavin looked over at you but you only ducked your head out of his line of sight. He didn’t bother asking about any more stresses, knowing you wouldn’t be up to talking. The Doctor shifted on his feet as he came to a final conclusion. “I would prefer to keep her in overnight under observation. Prescribe a mild sedation to help her get a peaceful night’s rest.” “No!” Your small voice quickly interjected, shooting down the idea as your head snapped up and panicked eyes set upon the Doctor,  “I want to go home.” Your E/C left the Doctor’s and fell on your boyfriend, silently begging him. “Please?” It was like a fist hand squeezed at Gavin’s heart and then proceeded to stab it against a sharp knife. Never, in the past two years of being with you, has he ever seen you look so broken before. His gaze dropped from yours and back to the Doctor, “Can I not bring her home?” “It is with my professional opinion that we do keep her in overnight.” “You are within your rights to go against medical advice, Detective.” Nines quietly spoke from the side, having noticed your stress levels increased drastically at the thought of staying here.  His cold blue eyes seemed to have softened a little as he looked over at you before, also, dropping his gaze on the Doctor. “If I may interject, it might be beneficial to bring Y/N home. Her stress levels might decrease once she’s in a familiar environment that she deems comforting and safe. I can offer to stay the night to keep an eye on her levels. If they reach critical condition, we can bring her straight back.” And this is why Nines came along. He made a compelling argument against the Doctor whereas Gavin would’ve lost his temper. Nines could already see the panic flash in the Detective’s eyes with the thought of leaving a distraught girlfriend at the hospital overnight. That panic would immediately flicker to anger within the flick of a switch. “Very well. On the proviso that her levels are to be regularly scanned. If there are signs of no improvement, you are to bring her straight back.” “Of course.” It was settled then. The Nurse was called in by the Doctor to disconnect you from the being hooked up to the machines while Gavin walked out of the room (dropping a kiss on the top of your head with a murmured ‘Be right back’) so he could sign the DAMA form. (Discharged Against Medical Advice). Nines watched as everyone left the room, leaving you and the RK900 unit alone. You were still sitting on the bed and your gaze dropped to your hands in your lap. Under the ever-watchful gaze of Nines as his blue eyes studied you for a moment before breaking the silence. “You still seem quite withdrawn.” His tone was quite gentle, surprising you (though you didn’t show that you acknowledged his efforts) and also surprising him. You ducked your head further away from his gaze, your hair finally falling down around your face to obscure your features from view. “I don’t deserve him.” You whispered, your hands beginning to fidget, picking at your nails, rubbing your fingers together, fingernails pressing hard against your skin to the point where you were leaving little crescent moon indents. Your Mother’s words echoing loudly in your head. Unfortunately, your fall to the ground didn’t cause amnesia so you remembered everything about that phone-call. Your fidgeting was a sign that another panic attack was coming on and Nines seemed to have picked up on your stress levels as he came over and sat down on the edge of the bed. His larger hand reaching over and placing it over your fidgeting ones. A gentle squeeze of reassurance was given. “Quite the contrary Y/N. Gavin is the one who doesn’t deserve you. But I know he’s quite lucky to have you. I must say I’m grateful you’ve entered into his life. He’s become much less insufferable.” A very quiet whimper escaped your lips, that if the RK900 didn’t have highly incredible audio sensors, he would have easily missed it. He didn’t fully turn to you, remaining his usual professional self but when he felt two hands grip his tightly, he glanced down. Your fingers were white with how tightly you were holding on to him just as how tightly you were holding onto the lid of emotions that were threatening to spill forth. Ever so slightly, Nines leant forward a little – just a little, but enough for you to know he was silently offering an embrace if you needed it. And you did. You dropped your head into his shoulder and let out a deep sigh. “He could do so much better than me. I’m just…” you struggled to find the right words to describe just how despicable you are compared to many other successful and far more beautiful women out there are. “Perfect.” Nines supplied as his free hand wrapped around your upper arm/shoulder. “You are incorrect to state that he can do better than you. You are the better. Detective Reed is quite out of his league with you.” You merely scoffed at hearing this but the words were comforting to the voice that voice inside your head that was telling you otherwise. There was nothing more Nines could do or say. He wasn’t equipped to be dealing with psychological matters of a sensitive nature such as the situation you’re currently in, so he opted to remain silent and just hold you in this semi-embrace.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇ Gavin had finished with the paperwork outside and stopped in his tracks as he walked past the window and saw Nines holding you. Kind of. It looked awkward to Gavin but you seemed content in the embrace. There was no pang of jealousy from Gavin at seeing Nines holding you (why would there be? Nines and you weren’t interested in each other like that), however, Gavin couldn’t help but marvel at how attached Nines had become to you. The RK900 became intrigued with your cheery personality and the way your presence seems to melt all the insufferable behavior away from Gavin. Yours and Nines friendship deepened the more you and Gavin hung out together with Nines, getting to the point where Nines would call you for advice either on Gavin or to do with women (what’s the best approach etc.) most likely related to crime cases with female victims since neither he nor Gavin were the best people to deal with emotionally distraught women. Sometimes you’d even ring Nines to ask about Gavin (if he came home in an exhausted or closed-off mood). Gavin would never have picked Nines to be the one to settle with a bond of friendship other than himself (not to sound vain). Phone ringing in his pocket, Gavin stepped away from the window – probably should give Nines privacy since always seems to be allergic to initiating (or participating) in physical interaction that isn’t violent. He didn’t even get a chance to greet the caller when Fowler’s voice immediately screamed down from the other end of the receiver. “Where the hell are you two!?” “Technically on our lunch break.” “Well get your asses back here and do some of that damn paperwork! It’s overflowing on your desk like Niagra-fucking-falls!” Normally Gavin would hit back with a quip that would leave others to wonder how the hell he hasn’t gotten himself fired yet, but instead his voice was oddly calm, probably because he was also in the hospital hallway. “I’m at the hospital. Something personal came up.” The voice on the other end dropped its raised tone as concern laced through, “Everything alright?” “Yeah. It’s just… personal. Gonna need a couple of days. Nines will be back tomorrow.” “S’fine, s’fine. It’s slow here anyway. Just keep me in the loop.” “Yeah… yeah, thanks.” “Take care, son.” With that, Gavin hung up and slipped his phone back in his pocket, relieved that Captain Fowler didn’t pester with questions. It’s not like Gavin took days off anyway – only when forced to by the Captain himself. One of the excused had been; ‘Reed, you’ve been working non-stop and you’re pissing me off. Go home and stay home for a couple of days.’ He walked past the window to see Nines standing by the bed with his hands behind his back, awaiting for Gavin’s return, as though he hadn’t just shared a gentle embrace with Y/N. Stepping into the room, Gavin walked over and placed a hand on the back of your shoulder in a gentle touch, “C’mon.” his voice so soft that if you weren’t in such a state, it would’ve melted your heart. Hands wrapped tightly around your arms as though you were giving yourself a hug, you leaned into Gavin’s side as he guided you out of the room with his arm around your mid-back. Nines following behind as he watched the two of you. You still seem quite withdrawn and quiet. Your levels seemingly decreased since leaving the room and Nines was satisfied he put forth the offer to bring you home. It was silent as they walked out of the hospital and to the car. Gavin occasionally peering over at you but you kept your head down with your gaze on the ground. He felt so out of his depth right now. He was worried about you, actually worried about you. And because he was so worried about you, he worried further that he would say the wrong thing or not be able to help you. He was gentle and kind with you, but he was still the blunt-speaking Detective he’d always been. It didn’t help that this is the first time you’ve ever been this bad. The worst you’ve ever done was breakdown and cry while stressed. All of which can be fixed with hugs and soft murmurs. That was easy. This wasn’t. This required a gentle and fragile approach. Something that Gavin will truly fuck up somehow. Yet the figure following behind them thought otherwise. Had he been able to hear Gavin’s thoughts, Nines would reassure him that he is the perfect person to handle this. Nines has witnessed the true gentleman that Gavin is when he’s around you. He knows Gavin is capable of empathy and sensitivity. Unlocking the car, Gavin opened the door for the backseat behind the driver, his hand leaving your back as you lowered into the seat. He left the door open momentarily as he popped the trunk of the car and pulled out the blanket you made him keep in their in case of emergencies. - “You don’t even have a first aid kit in your car?!” you queried as you and Gavin made your first shopping trip together and were placing grocery bags in the back of the car. “No. Why would I?” “Gavin! You’re a Detective!” “So?” “So…shouldn’t you have one!?…what if someone was in trouble?” “That’s what paramedics are for Y/N.” “You’ve got first aid training, right?” “Yeah they make us do that shit every two to three years.” “Well you ought to have a first aid kit in the back of your car in case of emergencies. It’s only a matter of moments between life and death for some. Paramedics may not arrive in time and you could be the one to make that difference.” Gavin went quiet for a moment as he mulled over the point you made, sighing excessively loudly (which made you giggle because it was one of those defeated sighs where he knew you were right and rather than telling you you’re right, he just sighed it out.) “Alright. I’ll get one if it’ll make you happy.” “And a blanket.” “Why the fuck would someone need a blanket?” “In case of situations like shock, or it’s in freezing cold temperatures.” Another sigh and then a defeated, “Fine. Fine. You win. But you better kiss me for this.” You grinned and did as he asked, leaning over you brushed your lips against before his hand pressed against your lower back, pulling you against him as his lips captured yours. “Mm, that’s what I thought.” He murmured. You could feel his grin through the kiss and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh against his lips. - Nines ever-observant eyes watched with curiosity as Gavin retrieved the blanket from the trunk of the car, shaking it out of its folded-up state and brought it around to you. It smelt a bit musty from being cooped up in the dark back of his trunk but you didn’t mind as he draped it over you. “Guess you were right, huh?” he smiled softly as he tugged it around your sides. You could only nod. It was like you hit such a numb state. You couldn’t share in his humor, you couldn’t bring yourself to reciprocate his smile. You could only be glad that you did something right for once. With your door finally closed and you were safely situated in the backseat, Nines finally moved from his spot and slid into the passenger seat just as Gavin slid into the driver’s seat. Unlike when he and Nines left the Precinct, Gavin was much more careful in reversing and driving out of the hospital carpark. Mostly because you were in the vehicle. The drive home was quiet. Gavin constantly checking his rearview mirror to keep an eye on you. Occasionally you both made eye contact and you would always look away in shame. He deserved so much better than you. Perhaps your mother was right. Look how you’re inconveniencing him. He’s had to take time off work because of you. “Would you like me to inform Captain Fowler of your sudden absence?” Nines quietly asked, purposefully keeping his voice at a gentle lull so as to not disturb you. “I’ve already called him. Said you were coming in tomorrow though.” Eyes focused on the road, Gavin answered Nines without breaking concentration, his voice equally quiet. “Is that wise? An agreement was made between the Doctor and myself that I would ensure Y/N’s safety outside Hospital Grounds.” “So? S’not like you got it in writing.” “No. I did, however, record the conversation.” “Without his consent? Why, Nines, you devil, you.” Gavin quietly joked. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the statement, deeming an action unnecessary, Nines decided to correct the name-calling, “I’m an android, not a devil. Regardless, that agreement still stands.” “Look, Nines, we’re about to crack this case. Let’s face it, you’ll work quicker when I’m not there. You got Anderson and that annoying plastic prick as backup.” Gavin turned the corner and was only now three streets from arriving home. “Very well.” You heard the entire conversation, they weren’t being quiet in an attempt for you not to overhear, they were being quiet out of respect for your already quiet state. But you did readjust yourself, sinking further beneath the blanket and leaning your head against the window. The hum of the vehicle’s engine, the flickering of the indicator and the quietened toned voices that were usually loud and bickering (mostly Gavin instigating the arguments) was enough to make you drowsy with the heavy onslaught of emotions you were fighting back. ◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇ You hadn’t realized you were home until your door opened and you jerked in surprise. “Shit, sorry babe. You okay?” You hummed softly as you undid your seatbelt and climbed out of the car with the blanket wrapped around you. Immediately Gavin’s arm came around the small of your back and guided you up to the house. “Would you like a cup of tea Y/N? I’ve heard herbal teas are beneficial in calming ones nerves.” Nines asked as he followed up behind you and Gavin, hands behind his back. You only shook your head, “I think I just want to go to sleep.” You muttered and felt Gavin’s hand rub your back in comfort. The small home that you and Gavin shared was always warm and welcoming. Unlike bare yet always messy apartment Gavin had prior to you coming on the scene. There were artwork on the wall, photos in frames displayed on different types of shelving, alongside little ornaments that you and Gavin collected over time. Mostly things you found cute whenever you would visit a market or something. Occasionally something on display would be from Gavin; “I saw this and thought you might like it.” Had been his way of telling you he’s thinking of you and taking an interest in what you like. And because he wanted to spoil you with something you’d like personally rather than just the average gift of jewelry.

Gavin took you down the hall while Nines stayed in the living room, waiting Gavin’s return. “How are you feeling?” Gavin murmured as he shut the bedroom door and walking around you to pull back the blankets of the bed on your side. You merely raised your shoulders in a small shrug. Today had escalated drastically for you; physically, mentally and emotionally. You climbed into the bed, still wrapped in the blanket from the car as an additional comfort. You snuggled down with the blanket being tugged right up around your chin by Gavin. He had no idea what the fuck to do but he could only hope this would work. His hand came down to rest on the curve of where your hip was hidden beneath the blanket as he crouched down on his quarters. His other arm resting above your head as his fingers gently caressed your hair from your forehead. “What the hell happened to you today, Y/N/N?” “I don’t know… stress, I guess.” “I’ve seen you stressed, babe. This isn’t that. There’s something more. Something you’re not telling me. What is it?” Damn him and his Detective skills, able to pinpoint when someone wasn’t telling the truth. You licked your lips in nervousness as you stared at his grey orbs. “Can I ask you something Gavin?” “Yeah. ‘Course.” “Do I…Do I, um… Do I…” your voice wavered as you stammered your words, the remaining question was whispered because you were barely holding on now, “disgust you? Make you ashamed to be with me?” His fingers stopped their ministrations, his face twisting into a mix of disbelief and anger. “What the fuck Y/N?! No! Where the hell did this all come from?” Just like that, the gates to the dam opened and the tears fell uncontrollably from your eyes, your own features twisting into so much hurt that it tugged painfully at Gavin’s heartstrings, already filling with anger and who caused you to be so distraught. A sob broke out and you turned your face into the pillow, away from his gaze as your body violently trembled beneath each sob that tore out. “Shit. Hey, hey, hey…S’alright. It’s alright.” Gavin quickly moved to sit in the small space on the edge of the bed. Everything that had built up for weeks, only for the phone call from your mother to finally be that tipping point for you came bursting out. You felt one hand grip whatever part of you he could reach, and the other caressing the material of the blanket that was covering your body. “I’ve got you, babe. I got you. You’re alright. ‘M right here.” Soft words were murmured as he continued to caress your back in comfort but his efforts hadn’t even managed to calm you down at all. “Babe, can you look at me?” “No….” you wailed into the pillow, curling further in on yourself. Quietly adding an “I can’t!” between sobs. Your cries were really getting to Gavin and he had to find the strength not to explode in anger and hunt down whoever it was that hurt you like this. “’M right here Y/N. I’m not going anywhere. Talk to me.” Gavin’s voice rose a little to be heard over the volume of your cries but still, somehow, remained a gentle tone about it. He barely managed to catch it but he heard it loud and clear, “I’m a disappointment.” “Who said that?” “Everyone! My boss! Customers! My own M-Mom!” Gavin was well aware what your mother was like. What your family was like. They expected too much from you and had you at high standards that were impossible for you to achieve. Not everyone was built to become a surgeon or a firefighter, or even a Detective. At first, he tried to reason with himself that they just wanted the best for you but it was clear that they bullied you – and he swore that sometimes they would do it for fun. He lost all respect for your family and wanted to shield you away from them as best as he could without it falling into the ‘possessive/alienating’ category of being in a relationship.  It was part of the reason he asked you to move in with him. Give you an offer of a new life. Hopefully ceasing as much contact with the toxicity of your family. “God-fucking-damnit!” The curse fell past his lips before he could even catch it, startling you and causing you to curl into a tight ball – how that was even possible, he had no idea. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry for everything!” “Fuck. No. I… No, I’m not mad at you… Fuck, babe… I, uh…” His hand hovered midair, debating whether continuing to offer you comfort was the right course of action. He had sent you into such a pleading state with his verbal outburst, he didn’t want to be the one to add to that. “I’m not worth it. Any of it. You deserve better than me.” Without thinking, his hand came down and rested firmly on your shoulder. Sliding off the bed, he resumed his position of crouching down to peer at you since you were curled into a tight fetal position. “No.” he firmly stated. “You are worth everything to me, Y/N. Everything. Don’t you dare think you’re not.” He dropped his head, muttering under his breath, “I’m going to fucking kill that woman.” It was no use. Whatever Gavin said to you, you only cried through his words. You hadn’t meant to be so rude but you couldn’t calm down. This was years and years of your Mother’s verbal abuse coming out. The more you cried, the more Gavin swore bloody murder. It was hard; he wasn’t the type of guy who knew the right things to say. He was far from the ‘ideal perfect boyfriend’ that women seem to desire. But he was doing all he could, and all that he knew how. That also includes staying with you until you fell asleep. Your body stopped trembling but his hand never ceased those comforting motions against your frame. Gentle hushing every now and then emitted past those lips that were known to swear like a sailor and argue with anything that moves. Gavin had since resumed his original position; crouched by the bedside, one hand caressing the hair back from your now tear-stained face, the other rubbing circular motions in comfort – which had now ceased to where his thumb was just gentle caressing while his hand remained firmly against the curve of your hip. He waited until you were asleep before he left, gently tugging the blankets around you, his gaze lingering on your sleeping form – features now relaxed and set into a peaceful slumber as if you didn’t just suffer a massive breakdown. The moment he turned from you, however, there was a murderous rage in those stormy grey orbs of his. Quietly shutting the door behind him, he walked out to Nines who was holding a framed photo of the three of them. This was definitely your doing. Gavin would never place photos up, particularly personal ones. But you insisted, and you really adored the one of you three. It was just a dumb selfie at the beach with your faces squished together in order to fit in the frame. It was silly, and one of the very rare times that Nines stepped out of his level of comfort from his professional appearance to just be ‘normal’. His LED was circling the soft amber glow, occasionally red would flicker through. He was quite concerned about you. Particularly when he heard the heartbroken wails filter through the shut door. Audio components picking up some of the conversation as he eavesdropped a little, however, he decided that this was one of those times where you could not be comforted. A shame that you weren’t under hospital care, they could have given you a sedation to avoid the mess of emotions. Perhaps with the decent night sleep, you could wake up feeling more refreshed and a stronger state of mind to begin the day’s problems. Which is what he hoped would work for you now. Hearing the door click shut, he placed the photo back on the shelf and waited for Gavin to reappear. “How is Y/N?” Gavin didn’t even look at Nines as he pulled out his phone from his pocket and thumb began scrolling through the screen of contacts. “Cried herself to sleep. Fuck all I could do for her.” “Surprisingly her cortisol levels are back to a regular state but there’s been a significant drop in her serotonin levels.” Nines reported as he followed Gavin into the kitchen. Glancing up from his phone in annoyance, wanting to just get the person he was looking for on the phone and rip into them. “What?! English, Nines.” “I was speaking English, Detective. To put it simply, her stress levels are back to normal but she’s taken quite the plunge with her happiness.” “Yeah, no shit Sherlock. You seen the state she’s in? She’s far from happy. She’s hurtin’ Nines. And there’s fuck all I can do for her. And this wouldn’t have happened if her fucking mother kept her goddamn mouth shut.” “I’m afraid I’m not following.” “I couldn’t get much out of her but…” Gavin went on to explain just the real level of nastiness your Mother can be. And whenever there’s a family get-together, they all put their two-cents worth it. And not in a supportive manner either. They were jabs, accusations, insults, remarks… playground bullying that was clearly taking it’s toll on you. “…Which is why I asked her to move in with me. To get her away from all this bullshit as much as I can.” “I see.” “Enough’s enough. This ends now.” Phone gripped in his fist, pointer finger came out and jabbed at the air towards the ground, emphasis his words before he extended his arm out and pointed towards the door of where you were sleeping, “Because the next time this happens, I don’t want to get a phone call saying Y/N’s topped herself.” Nines would have interjected, maybe offered for Gavin to calm down while making an irrational phone call but from what he had just been informed with regarding your family, well… they had this coming. Nines was standing by for… moral support. And to also make sure Gavin doesn’t say something stupid that could jeopardize your relationship with him or his job as an officer of the law. Finally hitting the green call button on his phone, Gavin waited for your Mother to pick up. When the line connected, he offered no greeting and go straight to the point,

“What did you say to her?!” “Nothing that any other Mother wouldn’t give advice to their child.” “You call that advice!? Do you have any idea what you’ve fucking done!?” “I gave her a reality check, Mr. Reed. Get her to pull her head in and do something good with her life.” “No. You gave her a hospital check. You’ve fucked her up.” “Excuse me?” “You heard me, lady. Every time I manage to bring her to where she can finally see her own worth, you bring her right back to the fucking ground again. And this time she landed in the fucking hospital!” Gavin’s finger never ceased the jabbing in midair with every point he made. If only the Mother could see how close Gavin was to losing his shit, perhaps she’d actually shut up and listen to him. “That’s at no-one’s fault but her own.” “No, that’s at your own fucking fault. If you were a decent mother and supported her -” “Y/N has had this fantasy dream since she was a child. It’s time she outgrew it and got a proper job.” “Since when is wanting to own to a business a fucking fantasy?! She can do it. She has the smarts to but you keep fucking her up.” At this point, Nines yanked the phone out of Gavin’s clutches when the Detective’s began to rise and his anger would be to blame for waking you up, which is something that Nines wanted to avoid. You needed the sleep and listening to Gavin scream down the other line of the phone would only stress you out further. Placing the communications device to ear, a much more calmer tone greeted the line, “Good evening Mrs Y/L/N. What my colleague is trying to convey is that one Y/N has successfully surpassed her examinations, she has a solid proposal to put forth to the bank and town-council officials. There is a 15% she will be knocked back, but that is a very low percentile so I highly doubt she will become the failure that you are clearly so worried about. I understand that every parent wishes for their child to succeed. Your concern is admirable but the unsolicited advice is not. I suggest that if you cannot be as supportive of her as her own boyfriend and his work colleagues down at the Detroit City Police Department, perhaps it is best if you minimalize your contact with Y/N. I assure you that your daughter has people in her corner to support her, people that you ought to be wary of the next time you break the law. Because the next time you bring Y/N down again, we will bring you down the next time you break the law, regardless of how small it is. Good day Mrs. L/N.” Just as well that Nines took over from the phone call. Had it been Gavin, he would’ve been screaming down the line with a much worse threat; ‘Break Y/N again, and I’ll break your fucking face.” Gavin temper can get away from him particularly when it involves you. Before your mother could get a word in, Nines hung up the phone and looked over at Gavin whose mouth was slightly agape before they turned into a snarl as he took his phone back. “She got off lightly if you ask me.” “Yes, well the alternative is against the law.” “Tch.” “It would be advisable that you also retrieve Y/N’s phone in case the mother tries to contact her while she’s recovering.” “Fuck. Yeah… Yeah, I’ll do that.” Instead of doing as Nines advised, Gavin grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, some pain relief from the top of the fridge and then rummaged around one of the top drawers in the kitchen. Grabbing a marker and a piece of notepad paper, he quickly scribbled something on it before gathering everything and making his way down the hallway to the bedroom. Quietly opening the door, he made an effort to be quiet with his steps as he set down his phone beside yours so he could unload the rest of his items; placing the bottle of water down, the packet of pain relief tablets in case you awake with a headache or any other aches from today. Lastly, the little note that simply said; ‘Love you X.’

Despite the murderous anger that had consumed him earlier, it all melted when he saw you curled up beneath the covers. One of these days he was going to marry you. If you’ll have him, that is. He can only hope he’d make a decent husband to you. Leaning down, lips softly kissed your temple, gaze lingering on you for a moment, flames of fierce protection flickered around Gavin’s heart, who was prepared to burn anyone whoever dare hurt you like this. Grabbing both phones, he left the room and quietly shut the door behind him. ◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇ He found Nines in the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee made for Gavin, knowing the Detective would be in dire need of something after the stressful few hours. Sitting at one of the barstools at the kitchen counter, Gavin groaned and rubbed his face as Nines took your phone and switched it off completely before sliding it back to Gavin. “Nines? Uh… listen – uh, thanks for everything today. Didn’t mean to rope you in with all this shit.” “You’re quite welcome. I’m just relieved to know that Y/N is home.” “Yeah. Me too.” A quiet moment transpired between them as Gavin sipped away at his coffee and Nines running his regular internal checks with his system. “’M gonna marry her Nines.” The statement came as no surprise to Nines, he was well aware how smitten Gavin was for you, but he hadn’t expected to see the tips of Gavin’s ears turn pink at the statement. Gavin’s face was turned slightly from Nines’ complete view, but Nines knew this was something that Gavin was embarrassed to confess but clearly wanted to open up to Nines about. “I know, Detective.”

  ◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇  

It was close to 8 months since you successfully graduated from your university. Gavin and Nines were both there to see you accept your certificate, they were both there when you signed documents and contracts for various things. Gavin wanted to be there for every crucial moment for you, and Nines wanted to be there to ensure that you weren’t getting screwed over by what was stated in the contracts and documents.

It was the evening before the bookstore opening and everything was in place. Unfortunately, there wouldn’t be a grand opening of sorts so Gavin didn’t book the day off; having booked quite a number of days off already with wanting to be there for the other stuff in the past few days. So, he decided to take you out to dinner tonight. Or so you thought. He came home early so he could have a shower and get ready while you also had time to do your hair and makeup, wearing the dress that you knew drew him wild. It wasn’t your intention to tease him but you also know he’s been stressed with work but has also been there for you with everything… you knew there was only one way to show your appreciation… but that was for after dinner. You hadn’t even left the house yet, let alone the bedroom when two large hands had your hips pinned against the wall. You let out a small gasp and arched against him with a small hum. His lips trailing from your cheek and down your jawline, “You look delicious babe.” One of your hands rested on his forearm, the other trailed up the nape of his neck, fingers pressing against the smaller parts of his hair. “Dinner first and then dessert.” “I’d rather have you for dinner.” Came the husky murmur against your ear as his hands gripped your hips and pressed his own against yours, feeling the slight bulge in his pants. You forced yourself to hold back a moan, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of how much you really want to cave and give him what he wants. “And not dessert? Shame. Dessert’s always the best part.” You teased, tilting your head sideways for his lips to have better access. He refused to kiss your lips because he didn’t want to mess up your makeup. “Can’t I have both?” he groaned out but forced himself to pull away, especially if he wants tonight to go as planned; which didn’t exactly interfere with your plans but will definitely delay them somewhat. His lust-filled green eyes stared at yours as a finger gently hooked under your chin, thumb very lightly caressed across your dark red painted lips. “You really are fucking beautiful, you know that, right?” Luckily the blush you were wearing covered up the natural heat of your cheeks at his compliment. “I do now.” You murmured softly as your gaze met his and your lips smiled softly. You had no idea how much Gavin worshipped the ground you walked on, adored you in every single aspect of the word. At the same time, he was your entire world to you. He may not look like it, but he was the epitome of a gentleman to you. You’ve been told by so many that he’s an absolute asshole at work (granted he’s calmed down since he’d been dating you) but you just can’t see it. Smiling, you placed a chaste kiss on his cheek and leaned back, thumb wiping away the lipstick residue left on his cheek. “And you, Detective Reed, are quite the charmer.” If he could wink, he would, but he’d given up trying ages ago. Instead, his lips turned up into a smirk and his hand connected with the curve of your ass. “C’mon.” Gavin took you both to the bookstore first. Night was falling and you could only make out the sign by the street lamps; ‘Cozy Book Nook Store’ a name that suited the theme of the bookstore you designed. Even with the curtains drawn, the windows and signage already had a welcoming and cozy tone. Gavin had wanted to see the final product before anyone else when the doors opened tomorrow. Unlocking the door, you flicked some of the lights and let him in. He wondered around a little, taking it all in. Mind, he’s been coming in every few days to see the progress, spending his weekends dedicated to helping you unbox books and placing them on the shelves. But he knows you’ve been working hard nonstop between then and now, adding the finishing touches and such. You quietly stood to the side, hands clasped together in front of you as you watched his reaction. Did it look good? Did you do a good job at setting it up? It was a rustic themed look inside with little nooks lit up by soft fairy lights where people could sit and read. Eventually you were going to incorporate a hot chocolate machine but that also came with a lot of pros and cons, and not quite in budget at the moment. “This looks amazing! You nervous?” he turned as he watched you walk over to him, forcing himself to keep his eyes on yours and not wander down to the curve of your hips as they sway while you walked. “Excited mostly, but yeah, a little nervous.” “You know I’m proud of you, babe. I’m so fucking proud of you.” He glanced around at the store before his gaze landed back on yours. “You achieved all this on your own.” “Well, I can’t take all the credit. You helped too.” “Hm, I think I mostly got in the way.” There was one weekend where Gavin kept slapping your ass as he walked past while you were bent over some books or boxes, a couple of times you both fooled around too. It was basically a wasted weekend because Gavin clearly had other things on his mind. He took your hand in his, lifting it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to the palm of your hand. “You’ve come a long way Y/N. You should be proud of yourself. I am. I am so fucking proud of you, you have no idea. I know things weren’t easy. But I will always be there for you. And I…” Gavin had wanted to say something romantic, something that would sweep you off your feet but he wasn’t capable of doing that. He still struggles to open up on a heart-to-heart level at times. Instead, his free hand disappeared into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small square box. Before you even had time to process anything, he was down on one knee, still holding your hand while managing to flick the box open to reveal a beautiful gold diamond ring. “I would be even more proud to call you my wife. Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?” He had every intention of asking you to marry him regardless of whether you graduated or not. If you didn’t graduate, it would give him the opportunity to whisk you away for a weekend to help forget your troubles, to propose even if it means you don’t become the successful bookstore owner you’ve always dreamed of being. Whether you were an assistant, or at a ‘menial’ job like retail or at Starbucks… he’d still be proud to call you his wife. But when you graduated and bought the building that was only a block away from the Precinct (expect a lot of visits from Gavin, sometimes Nines too, on his lunchbreak), he knew the perfect way to propose to you; When your Bookstore was all set up and ready to open. “I… Gavin are you sure?” “I’m on my knees, asking. I’m pretty sure Y/N.” “No, I meant… my family aren’t exactly –” “I’m well aware of your family and I would really rather not talk about them while I’m trying to ask you to marry me here.” You laughed softly at accidentally leaving him in limbo like that. But your laughter soon turned into tears of happiness as you sobbed out a “Yes.” Being a physically active Detective, he was able to unexpectedly brace himself as you lunged your body against him. Arms coming around his neck while you kissed whatever part of him you could. “Oh my god, yes!”   Still holding the box, his arms snaked around your lower back as he held you to him, his lips managing to catch yours in a tender but deep kiss in the middle of your bookstore.

[zebraslovescupcakestoo]

Blush Blush Wish List: New Boy edition.

If you read my wish lists from my previous posts, I did my first as random and a second one about clothing, which one of the clothing wish is coming true slowly, I decided to make a THIRD wish list, based on the Boy/Man bundle. We knew that there will be a new guy coming, plausibly the phone fling winner Poe, so here’s some dream ideas of mine that inspired me.

I will mark a disclaimer right here and now so please read it:

Any thing I write here is MY opinion, MY fantasy and JUST A THEORY. They are NON-canon, not project proof and they’re just fan fic/pic related to Blush Blush.

If you don’t like them or disagree, that’s OK! we can talk about it in the comments or ask box like big girls.

Without further ado, here are my Manimal ideas:

1. Racoon Thief!

I’m staring off with what I already mention on my first and my personal favorite.

I used to read one of the first few books of Arsene Lupin by Maurice Leblanc a few years back and I also watched the old French TV series from the 70′s. I also used to own a film based of him from 2004? and I love it. There is also a 90′s animated series from YTV called Night Hood.

I also noticed that there was a PS2 game with a couple of sequels and a PSVita remake with all the games in one. If you ever played Sly Cooper, this would be a very nice compliment to a legendary Gentlemen Burglar.

I imagine about how the player was on a detective mission, like Cole’s, and he/she stumbles a burglary scene from a bakery store. Player noticed some crumbs leading to an alley and soon find a well dressed racoon... Speaking some French accent, the Gentlemen racoon would explained that since he’s somehow got in a situation that prevents him to go to his ‘job’ he had no choice but to ‘borrow’ until he’s back to normal. With past experiences, you’d tell him that you can help him revert back if he’d promised to pay all of the goodies he has taken from.

I can imagine a Persona 5 references or Lupin the 3rd Easter egg dialogs.

2. Beauty Guru BF!

BEFORE anyone has to say about Jeffree, I’m gonna say HERE that I’ll understand if you don’t like or support him, this is just a reference and ideas.

Now, my second idea for a next Manimal, it would be a beauty guru BF.

Now I would go for someone between Jeffree Star and Kimora Blac. Someone’s that’s very influential, a bit controversial but not that serious and very honest.

So imagine a scenario when the player decided to take a break from streaming and just surfing on Youtube when they came across a makeup review tutorial with a face of an animal. Any animal. Player then clicked it and the animal said:

“Hello everybody and welcome back to my channel! Today, I woke up, got to a mirror... beyoch... The Panda Team, is crazy!!!”

Somehow the player texted on the comments and then sends some pictures that proves you can help him, so he flew from his private jet to meet you!

If this gets canon, let the team know about Jeffree Star and try not to copy him too much like they did with Markiplier.

3. Fashionista Drag Queen BF!

Following from the previous, another LGBT representative would be the man with good fashion taste, RuPaul!

I thought about how the Player would one day be shopping for new clothes and then notice an animal giving out fashion advices. He does admit he’s sadden cause of his physical state, he can’t dress up whatever he’d normally wear.

He’d also would reference from high brands like Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Guicci, random Italian brands, ect... 

Imagine on his semi or full human form, he’d be wearing RuPaul inspired tuxedos or a dress option DLC. 

4. Royalty Prince charming!

I know that on Phone Fling, we have the self proclaimed Arabian Prince Sascha, but think about an EUROPEAN prince!

Imagine Player was doing gardening and then all of a sudden they heard someone complaining.

“Why are they treating me like I am some pet?! I am a PRINCE!”

You notice the ‘Manimal’ and told them your ‘specialty’ after introducing. “So you’d help your prince from this curse? Should we do true love’s first kiss? Fairly well, but you must prove it!”

This could inspire Disney prince references. ;) You take your pick!

5. Native American Boy.

Before I explain, I just want to say that I respect the Natives and they’re are one of the nicest people, I’m just saying as a character perspective.

If you remembered on my first wish list, I asked for more diversities so here’s one of them!

Player was walking in the nature park and decided to take a rest on a table park when they noticed some thrash that some human dumpster fire was too lazy to put it in the thrash so you did. All of a sudden you head someone said thank you. You turned to see the Manimal in question. “It is so nice of you to think conscious about our home environment when you knew you weren’t the one who done it. May the Great Spirits looks on you.”

I kinda lean towards the Eagle or a Bear cause the Wolf is already taken.

I think it would be a nice reminder for a dialog to us about the environment once in a while and also Disney’s Brother Bear.

6. Frank Sinatra the 2nd! Old school but cool!

THIS is probably one of an interesting idea about an ‘old’ soul. It’s kinda like Myx but classier. Swag are for boys, Class are for men.

Remember the Old Looney Tune cartoons? Remember that character Tweety Bird? Yeah, I go with a canary or maybe a yellow-crested cockatoo with this number.

Imagine Player decided to play a mainstream music from their room, when after about a minute in, you hear someone screaming from next door.

“WILL YOU TURN THAT OFF-TUNE BLIP BLOP?! I’M TRYING TO REGAIN MY SINGING SWING!” 

At first you thought it was probably you neighbor, but come to find out, it was a talking bird in a cage. You asked him and he answered. “I just moved in from my relatives and now I’m stuck with feathers instead of a classic bow tie. You said you had experience with this?”

This Manimal would be one of those nerds with bowties and sweaters on shoulder prep boy. He’s more like Frank Sinatra (Pic 1 and 2 with Elvis), Dean Martin or Sammy David Jr. A bit more old fashioned but about the same age as college kids.

Imagine the dialogs would be more like Tweety birds whenever Cole is change in between and had comedy accidents like the cartoons to prevent being his next un-cook chicken nugget!

7. Ancient temple guardian!

If anyone had played Crush Crush, you know about the Suzu bundle in the shop. She’s a white fox spirt that the player had accidentally broke the statue.

Now imagine the same thing, but this time you notice that one of these statues are not the same cause they don’t breathe.

8. Marine surfer/oceanic enthusiast!

Remember when I said there’s no Marine Animals (Yet?) If they do, I hope to see a hot guy who was turned into one while I was just looking at the waves.

Imagine Little Mermaid in a gender swap perspective. He wants to learn about the ocean like Jacque Cousteau and sometimes collects sea shells or old object from the 18th centuries that was from sunken ships.

9. German Soccer coach!

Remember when the German won the soccer tournament from Brazil by 7-1 a few years ago? Now imagine someone from that country that’s the new soccer/football coach for your team.

Player wanted to try a new sport so they go for it, but noticed the coach is a big German Shepperd. He’s Strict, Disciplined and very Passionate.

We need a good doggo for 2021!

10. Eastern Master Chef

I think I saved a nice one for last, but my random card tells me that we need a chef in that game. CC have Bonnibel, we have a Michelin star chef!

I thought about an old school 90′s Iron Chef stars like Chef Hiroyuki Sakai and Chen Kenichi. But this one is from China, where they eat anything with four legs except tables and anything that flies except planes.

Honorary mentions of Gordon Ramsey in the dialogs but he’s too nice and... I want to see someone else besides him.

AND THAT IS IT!!

That’s all I have for Manimal ideas for now. Do you like any of them? Do you have any other ideas? Please tell me of what you think!

[sit-down-businessman]

Note: please go easy on me, this is my first posted fic, ever. Feedback highly welcomed! Will probably get edited later cause I guarantee I forgot something.

I hope to add chapters in the future...not 100% sure where I see this going yet.

************************************

Left Unsaid

Pairing: bakugou x reader

Warnings: cursing, sexual situation implied if you squint hard enough, eventual angst?

**************************************

Life was complicated.

As if that wasn't the most cliche thing possible. But why should you complain? You had almost everything you could want, including growing closer and closer with your boyfriend each passing day. Just about every hobby the two of you had complimented each other in some form.

His love off his Playstation went perfectly with your obsession of watching YouTube gamers.

Your green thumb helped provide fresh herbs and veggies for the dinners he loved to make.

The DSLR camera that rarely strayed from your bag was perfect for capturing pictures of the two of you overlooking the most beautiful views after a long hike.

Katsuki was everything you could have asked for. It was because of that strong connection that you grew worried.

As much as you loved the hot-headed Ground Zero, you knew he wasn't the one.

The first words he said to you did not match the ones so clearly inked on your right wrist. Thick leather straps often adorned that bit; a feeble attempt at denial.

You were head over heels for your man, soul mate be damned. It could be years, decades even, before the possibility of even meeting them.

Big if. Huge if.

You wouldn't let it invade your thoughts too far. The moment you were currently in was close to perfection and you subtly pinched your arm for proof that you were indeed awake.

Laying down across his bed, you watched as Katsuki took his stress out on the trap set in the corner of his room. How not one neighbor complained about the noise was beyond you.

Probably for the fact that he could be somewhat...slightly...intimidating, you figured. You were the only one fully immune to his scathing comments and screaming. He was like a teddy bear to you.

An angry, loud teddy bear.

The silence in the room snapped you from your thoughts. You focused your eyes on Katsuki and saw him staring right back at you. "Am I in those daydreams somewhere?" he asked, setting his beaten drumsticks across his snare.

You gave him a smirk and a raised eyebrow. "Kittens and hand grenades. So, close enough."

He let out a soft, quick chuckle and you saw his eyes flash downwards.

To your wrist.

Somehow during your mind wandering, your left hand had grabbed the leather wrap and was fidgeting with it.

"Am I a feral kitten, at least?"

You sat yourself up on his bed. "You wish. You're the cuddliest, cutest fluffball in the litter." You moved your hand up and ran it through your hair.

"You know," he started, standing up from the drum set and making his way over to you. "If anyone else but you said that, they'd be ash by now." He placed his hands on your hips and your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck.

"I guess we're both lucky I'm me, then." A devious smile played at your lips.

"Very much so," he agreed. "Or what I'm about to do to you next wouldn't be nearly as fun."

And with those words, he showed you why.

Over and over.

*********************************************

The morning sunshine found it's way past the sliver of window not covered by heavy curtains, straight to your face. Letting out a soft groan, you reached your arm behind you, only to find the bed empty.

"Damn you, early bird," you fussed. I wanted morning cuddles.

You heard Katsuki's voice from the living room and mentally calculated the possibility of dragging him back into bed for a lazy day. As your mind finally started to wake up and focus, you could make out your boyfriend's side of the conversation.

"Yeah, I know. It's been forever. Being a Pro Hero takes up most of my time, what's your excuse?"

You rolled your eyes, knowing he was mentally puffing out his chest.

"Domesticated, my ass."

Another eye roll.

"For sure. I'll see when she has a day off and get back to you...

...It'll be good to see you again too, bro. It's been too long."

Wow. For one of his conversations to not contain true insults or profanity was rare---

"Yeah, yeah. Fuck off."

---and there it was. It was an affection insult (for him), at least.

A few minutes passed without hearing his voice and you realized his phone call had ended. Curiosity won the battle over your laziness and you pushed yourself out of bed. Pulling open the door of the closet you shared with your other half, you didnt so much as glance at the side that held your shirts. Instead, your eyes fell onto his half, searching for one of the shirts you "only borrowed" from "time to time".

"Bingo" you said in triumph, pulling his faded Avenged Sevenfold shirt from its hanger. That and the boy shorts you were wearing were sure to catch his eye.

And you loved driving him mad.

Adding the cherry on top (you threw your hair up in a messy high bun), you walked out of your bedroom and made your way to the kitchen.

The smell of coffee had hit you as soon as you opened the bedroom door, and you followed it like something out of a cartoon. As you tried reaching up on your tiptoes to grab your favorite mug, you heard Katsuki coming out of his home office. You got your coffee together (more cream and sugar than dirty bean water), not realizing you had a pair of red eyes watching you from the doorway. It wasnt until your first sip that you could feel him behind you. You lifted your arms in an obvious fake stretch, feeling the shirt rise above your waist, knowing just where his eyes were looking now.

Still set on your lazy day, you turned around to find yourself face to face with your man. You could instantly tell he knew what you were trying to do by the raised eyebrow that greeted you.

"Morning, hot stuff," you said, nuzzling into his chest. "What's on the agenda today?" You pulled away to take another sip from your C-UNT mug. You let out an audible moan when the caffeine once again passed your lips.

"Well," he started, wrapping his arms around your waist, "I do have the day off..." he kissed your forehead and you sighed when you felt his warm lips on your skin. "A friend of mine from UA is in town for a few days. We were throwing around the idea of meeting up at the fair."

You stared up at your boyfriend in disbelief. Mr. Hardass. Mr. "I can't, I have to work."

Katsuki Bakugou wanted to go to the county fair.

"It wasn't my suggestion," he said to you, sensing the raised eyebrow you were giving him.

"I figured as much." You got onto your tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Today? The second day of the fair always has the best vendors."

"I'll give him a call back, but I'm sure that will work."

**********************************************

Almost two hours later, you and Katsuki were parking just outside of the fairgrounds. You could see the various rides lit up and whirring, and a packed crowd bustling around.

No matter how hard you tired to hold it back, a smile spread across your face at the thought of dragging your man to every single ride the grounds held.

Even the kiddie ones, if he complained.

Katsuki flipped through his phone quick before speaking. "They're running behind-"

"They? I thought it was just 'he'?"

"He dragged one more along. They'll be here in an hour or so."

You grinned.

"Perfect."

*********************************************

Rides never bothered Katsuki much, maybe because of how he constantly blasted himself around on a regular basis. The only time he seemed to cringe was when you started screaming by his ear on the Zipper ride.

When it came to the games, however, his competitive side shown through in all its glory. You had found a stall that showcased stuffed, cartoonish versions of Pros, and gave him puppy eyes when you found the giant version of your hunny as a top prize. It took close to $50 to win it, but Katsuki was determined to get it for you.

"Yeah, I see it," he said into his phone, looking off to the right. "See you in a second." He clicked the lock button and put it back into his pocket. "They're over there...somewhere."

You were excited to meet another of his friends. Most of who you knew were from his agency, sidekicks mainly, and the couple times you guys bumped into "that damn Deku."

As you two walked up to the funnel cake stand, you heard a shout. "Bakugou! Dude!"

You turned your head and saw someone you already recognized. "Wait...that's Chargeb-"

"Don't," Katsuki warned, squeezing your hand. "If he knows that *you know* who he is, he'll never stop."

"Who won't stop what?"

Chargebolt was standing right in front of you.

"Y/n, meet Kaminari. The first of tonight's extras."

"I'm still waiting on one good word from you." Chargebolt sighed at Katsuki. He turned his attention to you. "So, you're the one that tamed the wild Bakugou."

The smirk you gave betrayed Katsuki's growl. You debated calling your boyfriend a teddy bear, but you knew that would lead to no good.

You'd risk it.

"He's an absolute t-" you started.

"BAKUGOU!" you heard a voice bellow from twenty feet away.

The three of you turned to the shout, and you were once again star struck.

"That's..." you faded off. His hair was different than usual; It fell downward, opposed to its usual spikiness. But you knew that face.

"Dude. You're late." Katsuki said to his friend.

Pro Hero Red Riot chuckled at him. He looked at you with a boyish smile. "Better late than never!"

Your heart dropped as your wrist burned. You instinctively pulled your hand towards you, but Katsuki's grip was tight. Looking up at him, you saw a mix of fear and anger fill his face.

Red Riot looked confused. "Right?"

You couldn't speak. You weren't sure if it was from being stunned or fear of returning words.

Looking at the man you loved, you turned heel and ran towards the exit, gripping your stuffed prize tight.

Red Riot.

The Red Riot.

Katsuki's best friend.

Was your soul mate.

[danyka-fendyr]

Don’t Call Me Pumpkin

Hey everyone! So, I’m determined to put out my promised 3 Spencer Reid Halloween fics, but also I’m a lazy hoe. Which brings us to where we are now. Me, watching The Haunting of Hill House, writing a Spencer Reid Halloween fic that takes place on a pumpkin farm. Because I desperately want to go to a pumpkin farm even though there is not one even anywhere remotely near me because I live in one of the sunniest places in the world now and pumpkins would DIE here. This has not been edited. Fight me.

Wordcount: 1681

Permanent Taglist: @dreamwritesimagines @rhabakoli

Warnings: None. All fluff. A little bit of innuendo.

“Spence, seriously, where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere fun,” he promised.

“C’mon. At least give me a vague statistic for a hint baby.” 

You fussed with the blindfold Spencer had reluctantly put on you. He hadn’t wanted to, but you had been more than up for it since you loved a good surprise. Spencer rarely surprised you, so you knew the surprise factor had to be important to him. Hence one of his purple ties currently being on your face.

“Okay.” You could hear him blushing from being called baby. “Over 800 million of what we’re going to see are currently available in the U.S.”

“Oh my gosh you’re taking me to a strip club?”

“No!” Spencer frantically objected.

You laughed. “I was kidding, Spence. I know that’s not your thing. You prefer blindfolds, right?”

You wiggled your partially obscured eyebrows.

“Sweetheart,” he whined.

“Hey, you know there’s no judgment from me. I hate handcuffs, so we’re even. But seriously, are we almost there?” 

“Yeah, we are. Just a couple more minutes.”

You could hear gravel crunching under the wheels of the car, and you were forced to wonder once again where you were. Knowing your boyfriend, he could have taken you anywhere. He was almost never spontaneous, which only served to make his spontaneity more so. After a few moments, you felt the car come to a stop, and you couldn’t contain your grin.

“Are we here?”

“Your use of the present tense on the word here would indicate that you already know we are, in fact, here.”

“You’re right, I do. Now get me out of this car so we can do a dramatic blindfold removal!”

Spencer laughed before coming over to your side of the car and opening the door for you, taking your hand and helping you out. He placed his hands on your shoulders, steering you forward towards wherever he planned on taking off this blindfold, while you didn’t even bother trying to contain your smile. It smelled like dirt, and you had a few theories as to where you might be.

“Okay, are you ready?” He asked.

“No. There’s one more thing I want to do before you take off the blindfold. Can you turn me around?”

Confused, Spencer did as you asked, and you carefully placed your hands on his face so you had an idea of where you were going before you leaned forward and kissed him. Tasted like coffee and cinnamon, just like he always did. You could do this all day, but you had a surprise to get to, so you pulled back.

“What was that for?”

“So I could see if I liked it.” You shrugged.

“...Well? Did you?” He asked.

“Baby, I always like kissing you. Now let’s do this thing.”

“Okay pumpkin,” he said.

Every fiber in your body stiffened as it hit you. Spencer never called you pumpkin. You had to drive a while, certainly long enough to get out of the city. It smelled like fresh dirt.

At the same moment he removed the blindfold, you yelled, “Babe! Don’t call me pumpkin!”

You pouted, glaring over your shoulder at his handsome, handsome face.

“I waited until we were here!” He justified.

“Still ruined the whole surprise.” You sighed, staring out at the vast fields of pumpkins before you.

“Is it ruined if I say we can pick out any pumpkin you want?”

You gasped, suddenly giddy. “Can we get multiple pumpkins?”

“Whatever you want, love.”

“I love you!” You threw your arms around him, letting him catch you.

He laughed, setting you down again after a moment. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You two made your way through the pumpkin patches, and you both inspected every pumpkin that came your way. You had gone pumpkin hunting with Spencer before, so you knew how this worked. He was looking for a pumpkin that matched certain characteristics he had in mind, the most halloweeny pumpkin, the pumpkin to rule over all other pumpkins if you will. You, on the other hand, were looking for something a little bit less exact. You were on the hunt for your pumpkin.

You never knew what it was going to look like, but every year, you went in search of the pumpkin that was right for you. It called to you, in all of its sweet orange glory, a bright beacon in the midst of all of these other pedestrian pumpkins. It was somewhere in this field, waiting for you to find it. Your pumpkin soulmate, if you will, ready to be taken home with your more human soulmate.

“Do you see anything?” Spencer asked you.

Some years, you found your pumpkin in the first sweep of the fields. You would see it and you would just immediately know. Last year had been one of those years, and Spencer had come to dread them since they meant him wandering a pumpkin patch with a very heavy pumpkin in his arms that you insisted was your baby and that no one else could have. This year was not to be one of those years though.

“No. Not yet. Which is kind of a bummer since I was hoping to check you out. I didn’t get to stare at you in the car like I usually do. My day feels incomplete without a chance to drool over you. I’ve been deprived.”

Spencer blushed. He was so easily flustered. It was one of the things you had loved about him, even before you started dating. The cute little way his ears would turn red and he would stare down at his feet, fix his tie. Today he wasn’t wearing a tie though, instead, just a sweater that you knew was very, very soft from all the times you had stolen it from him. 

“C’mon silly. Let’s go look for your elusive pumpkin.”

“You’re deflecting Dr. Reid,” you sing-songed.

“I am not deflecting, I am prioritizing. Can you think of anything more important than pumpkins right now?”

“You.”

An easy answer, and it made him blush again. It was going to be a great day.

It was set to be a great day regardless though. The sky was the perfect shade of cloudless, washed-out blue, almost gray, and the air was perfectly crisp. The dirt in the pumpkin patch was exactly the right consistency between dry and muddy, and overall, conditions seemed to be perfect. Plus Spencer knew how cold you got and made sure you had dressed appropriately.

You two wandered through the pumpkin fields for hours. It took Spencer a long time to find his pumpkin. He was pretty hardcore about exactly how long the vine had to be. You put him to shame though.

“Seriously love? Nothing yet?” Spencer said around a rather rotund pumpkin.

“No. But we’re close. I can feel it.” 

You had been saying this for the past three hours since you had arrived.

“All I’m saying is, maybe we could take a break. I could take this guy back to the car, we could buy some apple cider...I hear it’s really good here.”

Your boyfriend’s persuasion meant nothing to you though, as you stopped dead in your tracks.

“That’s it.”

“What, the apple cider?”

“No, Spence, that’s it!” You said excitedly, pointing at one of the many orange gourds in the patch. “That’s the one!”

“Oh thank goodness,” Spencer huffed, adjusting the pumpkin already in his arms.

You beamed proudly at a rather large pumpkin. You might not be able to carry it, actually. You should have gotten a wheelbarrow, but you hadn’t exactly thought this through. It was incredibly round, but not too round, not quite preternaturally so. It’s vine was cut quite close, which you weren’t generally fond of, but you liked on this particular pumpkin. It looked a little dinged up, but you didn’t mind. It was the one.

“What are you going to name it?” Then, before you could answer. “Might I suggest Curbit?”

“Spence, my darling, I love you more than life itself, but that name sounds like Kermit the frog if he was a traffic cop.”

“It’s a shortening of Cucurbita Pepo, the technical name for pumpkin,” Spencer said, sounding slightly offended by your description of his name.

“Tell you what, next year I’ll name my pumpkin Curbit and you can name yours Pep, but this guy? This guy is a Gourdy.”

“Gourdy? You sure?”

“Yep. Positive.”

“Okay.” Spencer grinned at you over the top of his pumpkin.

“Now I just have to survive carrying him out of here.”

It wasn’t easy carrying Gourdy out of the pumpkin patch. It involved a lot of huffing and puffing from both of you since Spencer was still carrying his own pumpkin which he had named Peter. Eventually, though, you made it out and got yourself a wheelbarrow so that you could continue browsing your selection of gourds.

You and Spencer bought several different various other gourds, less picky in your pursuit of these. They would probably just end up eaten at the end of the day, so looks mattered less than potential taste. When you were finished though, you were more than satisfied with your selection.

“So, did you have fun today?” Spencer asked, wheeling your purchases back to the car.

“Um, heck yeah!”

“Good. I was hoping that would be a good surprise.” He smiled at you.

“It definitely was.” You picked up your pumpkin, setting it securely in the back of Spencer’s car before sticking your hand securely in Spencer’s back pocket. You absolutely adored the surprised look that crossed his face before fading into a very smug smirk. He leaned forward to kiss you, pulling you closer with one hand while the other tangled into your hair.

“Hey,” he said. “You know what I think we should do when we get home?”

You grinned, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. “Pumpkin carving?”

Spencer shook his head, laughing at you before detaching himself and putting his own pumpkin in the back of the car. “Yeah, pumpkin. That’s exactly what I think we should do.”

[negrek]

For the ask meme: 3, 6 (feel free to list multiples) and 7

More late ask replies! (For this old meme.)

1. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

That one's actually really tough, because a lot of them I've actually written, they just can't go in the story itself for one reason or another! For example, I've written a couple of scenes of what Nate gets up to after he splits up with the protagonist in Chapter 38, buuuuuut since this is a single-POV story, for some value of single POV, I can't include them. I've written a number of backstory bits, some published, some unpublished. I've written my various AU's, i.e. scenes I think would be loads of fun but which actually make no sense in the story as written.

As far as scenes that might actually go in the story, I do regret not having more scenes of Nate just getting to hang out with his pokémon during the League arc. Part of that's the fact that he was going to hang out with his pokémon away from the protagonist wherever possible, and part of it was that there's just so much going on in that arc already, it's bloated as it is, and so fun but not strictly necessary character scenes were naturally trimmed or not written at all. I'd also love to have more scenes of Nate's team interacting with the protagonist's team. I realized earlier today that there's a scene of that (which I quite like) in the next two chapters, and that's... the only one? There's only one time in the entire story where they talk?? How is that even possible???

So, nothing particularly plot-consequential, just generally more of characters that I enjoy bouncing off each other, angsting, being cute, whatever. Which I guess doesn't really qualify under the "can't be arsed to write all the set-up/context" requirement. I guess the only thing I can't be assed to write specifically because it would be too much effort is... any of the sequels? There are some bits there that I think are pretty *chef's kiss*, and I've already written a lot of them, but yeah, if I wanted those in actual fic form I'd need to write, like, all the scenes that go in between? Where you actually get from one chef's-kiss scene to another? Ugh. There is NO WAY I'm writing like three additional monster-sized stories to get some of my favorite follow-up out, I have other things I want to move onto instead.

Although I've been reading 20020 lately, and yeah, okay, if I had all of eternity, there is no way the universe would escape the entire Salvage series, lol.

6. What character do you have the most fun writing?

Iiiiit's definitely Nate, if you couldn't guess. :P It's just very easy to get under his skin; he *reacts* a lot more than most of my other characters. Toss him into a scene for instant conflict, or have him on his own just to watch him work himself up and expode. All good fun.

In general it's the more bombastic characters... I think Steelix would be my second pick. I really enjoy characters who misunderstand the heck out of what is going on around them but are very confidently constructing a narrative that explains it nonetheless. The protagonist is also good for this! Both the ability and tendency to be very confidently wrong are things I enjoy writing in a character, heh.

There's also pretty much always a Rats-like character in my longer stories... they're just kind of my default personality. If I'm just sitting down and writing whatever, someone like her is probably going to emerge. I like these kinds of characters, they're fun, and they're also extremely easy/relaxing to write, since they're just what comes naturally, so to speak.

7. What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?

Ahahaha, funny you should ask that... *sweats loudly*

Probably the biggest one, prose-wise, is that I rely a great deal on verbs! On the flip side, I usually describe characters' looks very sparsely if at all. There tends to be more description of the physical environment, but not a great deal. Pen made a great point in that I like my compound descriptors, like "bruise-dark" or "lava-smoothed." One particular bad habit that I have to stamp out all the time in editing is sticking "half-" on the front of something, like half-turn, half-smile, etc. If it's like they kinda did a thing but also kinda not and I don't know how to say what I mean, that's what I reach for--pretty lazy! I want to try and save it for situations where I really like the effect rather than kind of gave up and stuck it in.

I also do a fair amount of personification, or maybe it's synechdoche, where you'll have somebody "twitch an annoyed ear" or "waved a dismissive hand" or what have you. Obviously the body part itself isn't annoyed or dismissive or whatever and the action is the external signifier of whatever emotion, but yeah, I do that a fair amount.

I also love battles and action sequences in general. Even in one-shots, there's almost always at least a little fight involved. Part of this, too, is probably my tendency towards very stubborn characters. If neither of them are going to bend in their convictions, well, then they're going to have to fight it out, right, if only with words? On the flip side, this can make character development very difficult for me. I have a lot of trouble getting my characters to change their minds! In fact, I generally need to hit them in the face for tens of thousands of words before they start to go, "Okay MAYBE I was slightly wrong about that one thing, a little tiny bit. Perhaps." I am not very good at dramatic revelations or character shifts, and they tend to land poorly for me in other media. ("What, X is really going to open up to Y about that? Already? And Y is going to reflect on their past behavior and resolve to do better? Sounds fake.") Definitely an area where my own personality puts some constraints on my ability to handle characters.

Rather abrupt plot swerves are another big one. They never seem very abrupt to me, of course, since I know where things are going the whole time, but ~dramatic events~ do seem to come in and turn the plot on its head a lot. It turns out we were totally wrong about whatever, so now we need to go do completely different thing instead! Oh no we screwed that up real badly, help we need to flee the consequences now, etc. In general this tends to be how I structure story arcs, I think... Things change very, very slowly for a while, then abruptly everything happens all at once, and things can shoot off in a completely different direction before slamming to a halt again.

Annnnd finally, people are always eating in my stories. All the danged time. Maybe I enjoyed Redwall too much as a kid, idk.

Generally speaking, people seem to agree with me on these.

[timelesshonesttrailer]

The bane of many writers is that once you have birthed a story, taken the time to write, erase, rewrite, edit, scream at, and finally accept the words that you have written… you have to name it. 

Like people, or businesses, the name is everything. It’s one of the first things people see. It’s what they will use to communicate the story to others. So picking a good title is vital, which makes it all the more daunting. But like most things in life, once you break it down and examine its parts, see how it works, it becomes a lot less scary and a lot more manageable.

This is how I got pretty good at making titles, not only for my own works, but for others. And I want to share with you what I learned, and hopefully make the task of titling your stories a lot less terrifying.

To create a good title, you have to focus on two things: Structure and Meaning.

Structure

Quick, think of all your favorite books, shows, and movies. Now think of popular franchises that are household names. What do they have in common, title wise? They are short and to the point.

On average, these titles are one to two words long. This does not include articles or connecting words like “the,” “of,” “or,” etc, because they pretty much disappear.

The titles also average few syllables, about two or three. You don’t really want to go above four. English is a very lazy language and we like to keep things short. This is why a lot of titles get shortened anyway.

Examples of Titles (remember, articles/connectors don’t count):

Friends – One word, one syllable.

Cheers – One word, one syllable.

Lost – One word, one syllable.

Dune – One word, one syllable.

Timeless – One word, two syllables.

ER – One word, two syllables.

Twilight – One word, two syllables. Can refer to the entire series.

The Mummy (1999) – One word, three syllables.

The Simpsons – One word, three syllables.

Parasite – One word, three syllables.

Titanic – One word, three syllables.

Hamilton – One word, three syllables.

The X-Files – One word, three syllables. Though it’s debatable if X-Files is one word or two.

CSI – One word (standing in for three), three syllables (standing in for seven).

Star Wars – Two words, two syllables.

Good Omens – Two words, three syllables.

Game of Thrones – Two words, three syllables. Often verbally shortened to Thrones.

Lord of the Rings – Two words, four syllables.

I can keep going, but you see the trend.

But what about titles like the Harry Potter books? The answer is in the question. Each book/movie title starts with Harry Potter and then has a modifier. Harry Potter itself is only two words and four syllables. Then if someone talks about a specific novel, they typically would not say the whole title, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, they would simply say Azkaban. The same is done in other series. Percy Jackson for example.

There are, of course, exceptions.

Elementary is a one word, but five syllables. It’s also a very common phrase in both the genre and in everyday life. Use of common phrases is a way to get around the above formula because we’re already used to saying them, thinking them, etc. One Day at a Time is another good example. Three words, five syllables, but doesn’t feel any longer than Lord of the Rings. 

But the longer the title, the more likely it will somehow get shortened. Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep was changed to three syllable Blade Runner. My favorite book, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, has a very long title. Technically it’s three words when you remove articles/connectors, but the syllable count is a whopping ten. It gets away with it because for one, it’s a rift on an already common phrase, and two, fans can call it Hitchhiker’s Guide which is only four syllables. 

Now, once you know the structure of a title, you can work on choosing one.

Meaning

The title of your story has to give the reader an idea about what they’re getting into. It does this by focusing on one of the following:

A literal Person/Place/Thing –  Percy Jackson, Cheers, The X-Files

The Subject Matter – Friends, Law & Order, The Sixth Sense, CSI

The Genre – Twilight, Star Wars, Friday the 13th, Altered Carbon

The Overall Metaphor/Concept – Game of Thrones, Parasite, Pride and Prejudice

Many of these cross over. The Sixth Sense and CSI could also be considered a literal thing as well as a genre marker. If your title fulfills more than one slot, that is neat, but not a necessity. You might feel like you have to come up with some complex title, but sometimes it’s really just as simple as it’s a show about friends and their relationships with each other.

Take the title Catch-22. The term Catch-22 is a major metaphor and concept that is universally known today. But when Joseph Heller wrote Catch-22, no one called that concept a Catch-22. The title was simply naming the military rule (a thing), which created the situation and therefore drove the narrative. People later co-opted the title to quickly express the concept that the book so masterfully discusses.

Whatever you chose, the title should match the feel of the story you’re trying to tell. It’s part of your promise to the reader, and must make sense by the time they get to the end of the story.  

But how to pick a title when you have persons, places, things, subject matter, genre, and metaphors in your story? You simply work backwards. Ask yourself what your story is really about.

What is the driving force of the narrative?

What do you want your readers to get out of the story?

Is it a story about a person?

Or about the people of a specific group?

Is the story a one-shot or the beginning of a trilogy/series?

Is there a specific name or line of text that sums up your story neatly?

Somewhere in the answers to those questions is your title.

Now, I can make guesses on how some of the above mentioned titles came to be. Cheers takes place in the bar of the same name, and it’s about the patrons of said bar, so it’s the story about a place named Cheers. But I can’t speak for the creators and what thought processes they might have went through in order to choose their titles. So, instead, I am going to give you some of the titles I have come up with and explain how I got there.

Copper and Gold Two words, four syllables. Genre: Urban Fantasy This is the first book of a series based around a singular character, Minni Masterson, whose motif is copper, which plays a large role in the story. Since it’s a series, I need a title that could be formulaic across each one. In the first novel, the “guest character” is a gold dragon (Aiden Drake). So when I say Copper and Gold, I’m really saying Minni and Drake. And in the second book, when I say Copper and Cobalt, I am saying Minni and the Kobolds. Copper and Mercury is Minni and the Werewolves. Etc.

Emperor’s Shadow Two words, five syllables. Genre: Star Wars fan fiction/Mystery/Character Study The story is about Mara Jade who was an Emperor’s Hand. It’s about her coming to terms with the shadow that looms over her from her past and what Palpatine did to her. Instead of going with something much bulkier like In the Shadow of the Empire, I merged her past (Emperor’s Hand) with her current conflict.

The Serpent and the Liar Two words, seven syllables. (This format of “The X and the X” is one that is an exception to the rule, so long as the syllables belonging to X remain low) Genre: Marvel!Loki fan fiction/Pre-Movies Canon Compliant The story is about Loki and the events leading up to the first Thor movie. It also brings in Sigyn to explore that ship, along with some Norse myths, and to explain why she isn’t in the movie. Loki, of course, is known for his serpent motif and as the god of lies. I play on this, giving Sigyn a serpent motif, something to match her with Loki. But on several occasions, I raise the question of who is actually the serpent, and who is the liar? Because the best way to lie, is to tell the truth. So, like Copper and Gold, I’m really just calling the story Loki and Sigyn, I mean, Sigyn and Loki?

Amehrana One word, four syllables. Genre: Timeless Food Truck AU/Garcy Slow Burn The story is about Flynn and Lucy, and the rest of the team, in an AU setting. I named Flynn’s food truck Amehrana because it’s a mix of the word American and Hrana, which is Croatian for food. So the title is both a thing (the food truck) but also another word for Flynn and Lucy because he’s Croat and she’s American. But unlike Copper and Gold and The Serpent and the Liar, there is the added symbolism here of Flynn and Lucy coming together.

Frankenstein’s Monster Two words, five syllables Genre: Timeless Mission Fic for Proposed Season 3 (non-movie compliant) The mission is Mary Shelley, but that doesn’t mean there *has* to be a Frankenstein reference. But you have Flynn who thinks he’s a monster, one created by Rittenhouse. I also go deeper and hint at Lucy herself being a Frankenstein Monster, i.e. created by Rittenhouse for a purpose she doesn’t want any part of. Once again, my title is basically just another name for my main characters.

I want to interject for a moment and point out that we all have our preferences in our writing styles, and titles are no different. If you realized you tend to do most of your titles a specific way, then own it. It’s part of what makes you unique as an artist. And if you occasionally decide you want to go a completely opposite direction for one story, then go for it.

Case in point.

No Accounting for Heroes Three words, seven syllables Genre: Canon Compliant account of the Fall of SHIELD and its aftermath This fic really takes a hard look at what happens to those living in a world with superheroes. The main character, an accountant named Rani, is giving an account of events. My cowriter suggested putting “accounting” in the title which made me think of the common phrase, “no accounting for taste,” which is a concept about how different people like/need different things, and applied it to the story. No Accounting for Heroes means that we all need a hero, but maybe not the heroes we think we do, and we can all be heroes in some way, to someone in need. But also, there is that underlying current that heroes are not held accountable for the destruction that follows in their wake. 

Never be afraid to ask for help with titles. And don’t be afraid to reject titles if they don’t fit. And definitely don’t be afraid to take the suggestion, turn it over, season it, put it in a waffle iron, and see if what comes out is edible.

I have helped others name their stories, and here are three examples:

Remember, Remember Two words, six syllables. Genre: Timeless Garcy Canon Divergent/Angst/Mission Fic The story is about Lucy trying to save Flynn after he goes back to 2012. Emma saves him instead. Eventually Lucy runs into him and she discovers he doesn’t remember her and only knows what Emma has told him. At the end of the story, they have a final confrontation during the Gunpowder Plot. When the author asked my thoughts on a title, well, the Gunpowder Plot has the very famous saying “Remember, Remember, the 5th of November” and the whole story is Lucy trying to get Flynn to remember…

Disavowed One word, three syllables. Genre: Timeless Luciana Canon Divergent/Angst In this Twitter story, Flynn is blocked from returning to the US from Canada because they still think he’s a terrorist. Basically, his own country, whom he helped save, rejected him. When asked for a title, I focused on the idea that this story is about Flynn being rejected/denied entry/etc. I basically flipped through synonyms for rejected until I came across disavowed which is a term often used in spy craft. It’s a heavy word which paired well with the angst of the story.

Only Our Stories Three words, five syllables. Genre: Timeless Movie Canon Compliant-adjacent/Angst/Mission Fic The phrase “only our stories” is said in the fic itself. Future-Lucy writes it down towards the beginning, once she’s returned from dropping off the journal post-Chinatown. All that she has left of Flynn is only their stories, which she writes in the journal. She is eventually able to change things to get Flynn back, but he doesn’t remember her. There is still a connection though… their stories.

Never be afraid to take a line from your story to use as your title, so long as you follow the structure guidelines from the first section. 

At the end of the day, coming up with titles is just as much a skill as any other part of writing. We suck at first, then we figure out what's good, what's bad, and look at the world around us to figure out how to make it better. And don’t be afraid to edit it as much as you edit your novel. Until you publish, no title is set in stone, so it doesn’t have be right the first time.

And now here is where I close out this reference guide by saying something inspirational. Instead, I’m going to name this piece. While I wrote it, the temp file name was “Creating a Title” which is technically accurate but has no umph or style. This guide is meant to be helpful so the title should inspire confidence that I know what I’m talking about. But I don’t want it to sound too clinical either. 

A synonym for “name” is designation which I like but too many syllables because I’ll have to add to it. Synonym’s for “title” don’t give me much either. Instead, I should focus on the concept of the guide rather than its direct contents. Using something like “What’s in a Name?” would be too cliché. “I Suck at Titles” is funny, at first, with it being the exact opposite, but my genre is more educational than satire.

Wait, if I’m not going to reveal the title until the end, as a way to show you the thought process in creating a title, then to the reader, the title both does and doesn’t exist at the same time. It’s what you might call a…

Schrodinger’s Title: A Guide to Naming

[littledarlinwrites]

Love Will Come Through

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3179

Rating: I don’t know, like PG-13? Nothing explicit, mostly making out and a brief, not graphic, topless scene.

Author’s Note: This is for @shield-agent78‘s “Write Into Spring Writing Challenge” My prompts were: “Don’t yell at me in languages I don’t understand.” & “I remember kissing you, why do I remember kissing you?” This was a fun one to write! Thank you so much for letting me participate, and for being understanding about me running behind, this may be a bit late, but I think it was worth the wait! Huge shout out and thank you to my beta for this fic, @all1e23, and also to @marvel-graphic-designer for the edit! 

Anywho, ya girl is sick and needy so leave me lots of love y’all! Also, if everybody wants it, I may be inclined to make a part 2 eventually.

Summary: Bucky is haunted by dreams of a past lover, but who is she?

A whimper was released from the body writhing beneath the soldier. His body was covered in sweat and trails of pain erupted down his back. The pleasurable pain caused a growl to slip past his lips, lips that were teasing a hardened nipple moments before.

Just as Bucky was about to see the face of the woman that haunted his dreams at night his eye snapped opened and an aggravated groan fell uncaringly from his lips. The vivid memory of the smell of sex and lilacs pungent in the air of his dream world lingers in his mind. Shuri had warned him that lost memories may come back to him, most commonly in the form of dreams. Usually his dreams that were filled with whimpers or moans were coming from his dying victims, but more often lately they were of a mystery woman that smelled like lilacs, lips that tasted like peppermint, and skin softer than velvet. Unmarred like his, a complete contrast of himself if he were being honest. At first, these dreams would send him into a panic. More than once he woke up immediately running for the bathroom to empty the acidic contents of his stomach and the mere possibility that he had not only killed people, but robbed someone of their own bodily autonomy.

It wasn’t until Bucky had these dreams four or five times that he realized that, whoever the woman was, had wanted these intimate moments with him. That not once did she fight him, always pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. This had made him question if he had simply imagined this woman and these moments, that they were just dreams and not memories, but then his broken mind fought back with a vengeance by making them so vivid it was as if he were living them for the very first time.

As the dreams progressed, Bucky became more frustrated. Frustrated that he never saw the woman’s face, frustrated that he couldn’t remember anything identifiable, and most annoyingly, sexually frustrated. Every once and awhile, he would get a reprieve. Maybe a dream about holding the mystery woman in his arms while she drew lazy patterns with the tips of her fingers on his chest while a thunderstorm raged outside. Or maybe even a movie night on the couch that almost seemed just a bit small for two so she was practically laying on top of him, not that he seemed to mind. Or one dream that led him to discover his love and knack for cooking. Though he never let anyone else know. This was one of the few things he had kept to himself. In that dream he was in the kitchen cooking latkes where he had the perfect view of the living room and the cozy, worn chair where the woman sat reading a book with her bare legs draped over the arm.

The dreams gave Bucky more pieces of himself than they ever did of the mystery woman. Eventually he tried finding a way to be in control of his dreams so he could see the woman's face, but he never seemed to quite get a hold of it, usually just causing himself to wake up rather than look at the woman's face. For a while the frustratingly pleasant dreams stopped and the tormenting nightmares of all the lives lost and blood on his hands took its place. That was until Bucky took up residence at the Avengers tower.

After Shuri had finished his deprogramming in Wakanda and had made sure that nothing would trigger him to go into Winter Soldier mode Steve had begun suggesting that he move in the tower. At first Bucky declined, he knew Tony hadn’t forgiven him for what he had done to his parents, he hadn’t even forgiven himself for it. However, after a couple of months, Steve made one of his visits to his little cottage in the luscious green fields where he tended to his goats. This time he wasn’t alone though. The man that owned the Avengers tower followed behind him before walking ahead of him and straight to Bucky.

His muscles tensed, but the look on Steve’s face showed there wasn’t any danger to be feared, that this encounter wasn’t going to go down like their last. Tony made his way over to Bucky, looking down at his shoes once he was in front of him before looking around and then finally making eye contact with him. Bucky held back the apology on his lips noticing the Tony had a look on his face that he wanted to say something.

“Ya know, growing up I always felt as if I was living in the vast shadow that was Captain America. My dad’s greatest achievement. I remember him telling me how he advanced Steve Rogers, why he did it, but the story that intrigued me when I was a kid was the daring rescue attempt he helped Captain America on. Cap’ jumping out of an airplane while the enemy reigned fire upon the aircraft to save a friend. He didn’t even know if his best friend was still alive, and if he wasn’t then his rescue mission would become a mission of taking down every HYDRA bastard he encountered until he cut off the head of the snake. My dad told the story of duty, of bravery, of brotherhood, of love. My dad didn’t speak much of HYDRA, but he always got this far-off look in his eyes whenever he got too close to the subject. That was the story I thought of when Rogers asked me about you moving into the tower. My knee-jerk reaction was a firm ‘hell no,’ but then I remembered that story. I did some digging you know. The HYDRA we know today, versus the one that existed then. What caused us to end up where we are today. I get why Rogers protected you from me. Honestly, I never truly dealt with their death. And I may have placed that on you. It was easier that way, but it wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right. Just like what happened to them. Just- just like what happened to you. Rogers, T’challa, and Shuri have all assured me that you aren’t that guy anymore. Shuri proved that you weren’t. And, I believe them. So, if you want a room at the tower, it’s yours.” Tony said. At first, Bucky wasn’t sure how to process everything, and he was sure the look on his face showed that in spades. He didn’t manage to stutter something out until Tony nearly walked away.

“Do you,” Bucky took a deep breath as Tony halted his movements, “do you think you could ever forgive me? For what happened to them?” Bile rose in Bucky stomach in waves.

“No.” Tony said, deadpanned expression before breaking into a soft smile. “I forgive him though, the soldier. You aren’t the one to blame, and I wouldn’t mind getting to know you, the guy Cap’ rescued. The one I grew up hearing about. Without you Rogers would have just been some poster boy, and who knows, maybe my dad would have been into pharmaceuticals and who knows where we would all be now.”

The chuckle of Tony’s laughter dying off in Bucky’s memory of that fateful day. Not even two weeks later did Bucky have his new arm secured, his belongings moved to the tower, and his nightmares vanishing. Bucky remembers the day he met you. The newest Avenger that had arrived during his recovery with Shuri. Your specialties more useful at the tower than anywhere else you had explained. The scent of something floral floating around you stirring something within him, but at the same time there was something off about that scent that Bucky couldn’t place. The worst part he didn’t know why you stirred these familiar feelings, or why there was something off. He didn’t remember you, but sometimes he felt that tug in his mind that he would feel when his brain was trying to recall something it lost to HYDRA.

Bucky gravitated toward you and he had no idea why, every possible explanation that he conjured up never seemed to encompass the whole picture. Was it your gentle nature? Your fierce loyalty? Your never-ending patience? He remembers the first time he came back from a mission. You were waiting with the others that had stayed back and you were wringing your hands nervously in front of you. The look of concern in your eyes increasing tenfold when you saw Bucky limping his way off the quinjet. Bucky stopped in front of you wrapping his arms around you, breathing in the lavender smell that clung to your skin and the herbal scent of your hair. The scents calming him down instantly. Bucky was home. You had dragged him off to the medbay, but stopped at his room instead since it was closer and he was nearly falling asleep on his feet. You sat him down on his bed before walking to his en suite bathroom to get his first aid kit. Bucky remembers your gentle touch the most from that day. Fingertips ghosting along his injuries, your eyes warm and filled with care, every movement filled with a gentleness that could make Bucky cry.

When Bucky realized that he wasn’t going to fall back asleep he looked over at the alarm clock on his nightstand. At the sight of the time, half past three in the morning, Bucky released another frustrated groan. Shuri and Steve both told him that his mind would piece back the memories in time, that eventually he would figure out who the woman was, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating that every night for the last six months the dreams only teased him. Some days, on his particularly bad ones, Bucky’s mind would cruelly remind him that he doesn’t even know if the woman is still alive, worse yet, what if she had met a painful end by his own hands. What if his mind was just protecting him from this and only showing the good?

Bucky gets out of his messy bed, the sheets pulling off of one corner from his jostling, tossing, and turning. Bucky made his way to the kitchen hoping a cup of tea would soothe him enough to go back to sleep. As soon as he opened his bedroom door he was assaulted with the smell of latkes. Bucky’s mind spun for a moment and he couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps he had fallen back to sleep, to some modified dream where he’d finally see the woman's face. It wasn’t until he saw you at the stove top that he was convinced that he was actually awake. Bucky walked up behind you, the smell of fried potatoes filling him with a sense of comfort. His flesh hand had barely grazed the small of your back when you jumped nearly a foot in the air.

“Shit- Bucky, you scared the hell out of me!” You spoke with your hand against your chest, willing your heart rate to slow down as you realized you were in no actual danger.

“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep, thought I’d make some tea.” Bucky said sheepishly.

“No, it’s okay. I just didn’t realize you were here, I thought everyone went on that mission they all left for when I accidentally fell asleep this afternoon.”

“Oh, I was going to, but I ended up getting sick so I crawled into my room and sat this one out.”

“Oh. Well, do you want some latkes? I always make more than I can eat for myself. That is, if you think your stomach can handle it.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Bucky said, his stomach seeming to have settled from it’s violent churning hours ago. He turned around and got two plates out of the cupboard and two forks from the drawer. As you dished up the steaming food, Bucky got the kettle ready for tea afterwards. He opened the kitchen window in order to let the smell of grease out of the room before making his way to the table where you sat with one plate in front of you and the empty seat across from you had his plate waiting for him. Bucky took a bite of the potato pancakes and instantly moaned. He had never tasted latkes as good as his before, and they weren’t even necessarily his when he made them since he was just following his mothers recipe.

“Gosh, doll. I haven’t tasted latkes this good in a long time, where did you learn to make them?” Bucky asked between bites genuinely curious.

“Oh, just an old friend. He usually did the cooking, but I guess I was able to pick this up. Helps that it’s super easy.” You said while looking down at your plate. Bucky nodded his head. You both ate in companionable silence until Bucky stood and grabbed both empty plates heading to the sink and turning on the kettle. You followed him waiting beside him to dry the dishes. Bucky had finished washing the pan and was handing it to you when a breeze through the window blew across your skin. All Bucky could smell was lilacs, just like in his dream.

The taste of peppermint was on his tongue as it ran across lips Bucky could only compare to rose petals. The scent of lilacs clung to her skin, she had told him before it was an oil she used instead of using perfume, Bucky loved it. The noises he could pull from her body spurring him on. She could get drunk off his kiss and it drove him wild. He loved how absolutely wrecked she could be by him just ravaging her with his mouth as if they were teenagers. She cards her fingers through his hair, tugging it at the roots in the back that causes Bucky to release the most delicious growl that sends pleasure straight to her core. Bucky opens his eyes to be met with yours. He could get lost in your eyes and be perfectly content doing so. Bucky latches his mouth to the spot just below your ear that makes your toes curl, sucking a mark there. When he pulls away his lips are only centimeters away from your ear, his breath ghosting the shell of it.

“Love you so much, Y/N. Never want this to end.”

“I love you too, Bucky. Love the way you touch me, hold me, the way you love me.” You gasp out in an airy breath, pulling away to look him in the eyes before resting your forehead on his. Just enjoying his closeness. Tears gathered in your eyes. You were terrified of losing him, he could see it. Bucky kissed away your tears.

“Voi fi mereu cu tine, păpușă. Mă pot lua de aici, dar nu-mi pot lua inima de lângă tine.” (I will always be with you, doll. They can take me away, but they can never take my heart away from you.)

Bucky’s head spun as he was pulled out of the memory. His stomach was twisting more violently than it had been the day before. Memories of him and the woman, you, flooded in and out of his mind. Hushed claims of love under the moonlight, the smell of an old bookstore, the crackling sound of a fire, the taste of peppermint, and the smell of sandalwood and lilacs. Everything hit him all at once, the most vivid memory being the one where his lips unite with yours, over and over again.

“Сирень” (Lilacs) you heard Bucky whisper.

“I, what?” You said in confusion.

“Ich erinnere mich, dass ich dich liebte...” (I remember loving you…) Bucky’s voice began to raise, his eyes still unfocused as if he weren’t seeing what was in front of him. Before you knew it, you were no longer crouched in front of Bucky where he had slid down to the floor. You were on your butt and Bucky was pacing in front of you yelling in languages you didn’t understand, but you could tell it was more than one from what Bucky had tried to teach you at one point.

“Это был ты все это время? Я поцеловала тебя? Почему я не помню, что это был ты до сих пор?” (It was you this whole time? I kissed you? Why couldn't I remember it was you until now?) Bucky yelled.

“James!” Bucky flinched at the use of his name and it seemed to bring him out of his trance. “Don’t yell at me in languages I don’t understand.”

“I-I remember kissing you, why do I remember kissing you?” Bucky spoke softly, his voice small and the broken look in his eyes made your stomach twist unpleasantly. “Did the others- did they know?” Bucky added, his mind spiraling.

“No, no one knew. That was one of the things you warned me against when we were together. I nearly told Steve, but I just, I couldn’t. I didn’t even know if he would believe me if I did, or if they would take you away from me, I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you again. I’d rather have you and you not know me, than not have you at all.” You said, drawing your knees to your chest. You had come to accept the fact that you would probably never have your Bucky back.

“But, when I met you, you smelled like lavender.” The puzzled look on his face caused you to chuckle. This is the man that looked at you more times than you could count, knew you better both times than you knew yourself, and the oils you used as perfumes is what had kept him from connecting the dots? You broke out into laughter and the ludicrousness of it all became apparent to you. You didn’t stop laughing until you felt Bucky’s finger hook gently beneath your chin. His blue eyes calming your mind.

“I- every time I used it I thought of you, it became too painful. Then I read somewhere that lavender is supposed to be stress relieving, I never switched back when you came here because I figured maybe it would help you. You seemed so tense and skittish when you came here, and you seemed to relax around me that I thought maybe it really did work.” This time it was Bucky’s turn to let out an exasperated chuckle.

“Doll, I relaxed around you because of who you are. You just have that effect on me.”

“Oh.” You said, your eyes widening. Bucky’s eyes looked from yours to your lips and back again before leaning in just a tad.

“Can I kiss you, doll?” Bucky rasped in a husky voice. Yours fists found purchase on his t-shirt and you tugged him towards you. The second your lips met you both let out a satisfying groan. Your lips tasted better than they had in any dream. This time they were real.

[sam-writes]

Lover Boy

Warren Worthington iii x Reader

Word count: 1645

@siriuslymooned asks: "Dear Sammy @sam-writes please write me Warren Worthington III fluff. Thanks bb 💜"

Note: so this is my first Warren Worthington iii fic so no judging, I love the boy and want to do him justice but it’s hard to with such little content. Anyways this turned into more angst than fluff but I still like it!

Taglist: @deakydickfanpage @queen-is-a-mood @sherlokiantheatrenerd @nedmjpeter @angrylizardjacket @rogerandhishair @i-am-sarah @rogers-sweatbands @benhrdy @siriuslymooned @ironqueen98 @lifesweetflavor @cosmicsskies @pinstriped-abyss

(Edit) Masterlist has been updated!

_______________________

The wind pulled at the leaves on the trees and the sun shone in rays through the clouds scattered across the sky. It was a very nice day, balanced evenly between cool and warm. Despite the looming clouds, it was expected to be a very clear night.

You and Warren Worthington lived in the more or less middle floor of an apartment building that overlooked a busy street.

The sound of feathers trailing lightly against the floor made you turn around to see Warren sleepily walking towards the fridge.

"Mornin' sleepy head." You muttered walking past him into the kitchen, trailing your fingers lightly over the top of his wings.

The feeling sent a shiver up his spine and made goosebumps rise over his skin. He rolled his shoulders, flexing his wings slightly, rustling the feathers.

"Mornin' love." He spoke over his shoulder, face heating up from the wing touching.

He was smiling to himself as he grabbed a cold beer out of the fridge. Knowing he would immediately go for alcohol, you stole it from him, exchanging it for a mug of orange juice you had just poured for him. He tilted his head at you, raising one eyebrow in question before accepting it with a shrug and raising the mug to his lips before moving away from the kitchen.

After putting the beer away and retrieving your own mug of juice from the far counter you walked back to find Warren lingering at the balcony, hiding behind the sliding door, staring out at the world.

He did this often. Watch the world but make no effort to be a part of it. You had always put that down to laziness which was fine because you got to stay inside and watch movies with him. But more recently you had been noticing he had been lingering around the balcony instead of standing on it. His wings were always firmly tucked behind him rather than dragging on the floor like he does when he's comfortable. You had seen a change in his personality. He never left the building anymore and didn't dare go anywhere where he could be seen. Where his wings could be seen.

You had decided to suggest going somewhere but that idea wasn't taken well.

"We don't need to go anywhere. I've got everything I want here." He extended a wing towards you. Yet his gaze never left the street below, a few cars cruised down the road and people browsed the shops.

"I know Warren, but like... an adventure? Just go out and explore or something?" You pushed. He hadn't been outside in a very very long time. Not that you knew of, anyway.

"I don't really want to. I'd rather stay inside, we've got another episode of that show you like?" At this point he was grasping at straws to get you to stop talking. This had been a topic piece before and he knew if you continued he wouldn't be able to keep his composure like last time.

"The sun is good for you, Bird Boy. We could make it fun?" You tilted your head, curious as to how he would reply.

"Please stop." He muttered after a moment of silence. He turned away and, pulling his in wings tighter behind him, began to move away, back to your room. You hesitated before following after him.

"Warren, you haven't been outside in a long time." You are met with a closed door. "Warren?" You knock quietly. Luckily it wasn't locked and you open it slightly, peeking your head around the door.

He was laying in bed, curled up on his side with his wings wrapped around him in a sort of cocoon. Sunlight beamed through the window, flecks of dust dancing and meandering around in the rays. The sun shone on top of him, he looked like an actual angel and not a broken man.

"Warren..." you stepped inside the room cautiously. The mood had changed so suddenly; from sleepy good mornings to mental breakdowns and insecurities. When you got closer you reached out for his wing, softly tracing the calamus in the centre of his feathers. He pulled his wings tighter around him. "Are you alright? Talk to me, what's going on?"

His voice was low and wavered as he spoke. "I'm a freak."

Taken aback, you stared in horror for a moment before moving forward, kneeling beside the bed and slowly putting a finger underneath his wing to raise it. You expected to see his face staring back at you but it was hidden behind his hands. "No you're not, you're so far from a freak!" You tried to reason but he wasn't having it.

"I watch the people... on the street... and they're all the same... the same as you... but I'm different I've got these horrid things... that quite literally weigh me down..." he spewed his words quickly and between gasping for air.

You reached forward and grabbed his hand, slowly lowering it. He pressed his face into the mattress, too embarrassed to face you.

You caress his cheek softly, watching him carefully as he tries to regulate his breathing.

"You're not a freak. Just because you're different doesn't make you bad. You're unique and I love you for it. All of you, wings included." You reassured him, carefully picking your words.

He rustled his feathers nervously. Obviously he was still upset, he wanted so much but felt he wasn't worthy of it. Slowly and cautiously, he rose his gaze and finally made eye contact. His face was red, hot and wet. He hadn't been crying long but you could tell he had his emotions bottled up for a very long time.

You gave him a sad smile and pulled him into a sitting position. He avoided eye contact, slouching over and staring at his shaky hands in his lap. Placing a hand on his shoulder you pulled him into a hug, slowly at first before he took control and practically clung to you.

His face was buried into your neck, his breath was hot and fast on your chest. You rubbed the space between his wings comfortingly.

It had taken a long time for him to finally get the confidence to move away. He had gone between crying and trying to hold it in for almost an hour. You had been with him the entire time, comforting him in the ways you knew how. You could tell he was grateful by the way his lips curled slightly up into a dejected smile and he wiped his eyes roughly with he back of his hand.

Night had fallen and the day had been rather uneventful. You had left Warren to himself as he didn't really want to interact with you after the morning. He was still embarrassed. You hadn't seen him most of the day but you had assumed that was because he had been in the bedroom. When dinner time came, you realised that wasn't completely true.

You had been about to go find warren to ask him what he wants to eat, before he came and found you. He was still in his black sweat pants from the morning but he had patterned button up on with a denim jacket over the top. He smiled at you and held out his hand. You rose your eyebrows before placing your hand in his and being lead away by him. He lead you to the balcony, hesitating for just a moment before stepping out into the open. He pulled you close tightly. Extending his wings cautiously at first but then with a rush of wind your feet left the ground.

You clung close, arms around his neck, watching as the streetlights below quickly became blurry dots and the people below faded away. As you neared the top of the building, he slowed and gently touched down. He walked you over the ledge and you were met with a plastic table and chairs on the roof of the building. Fake candles were strewn around the roof, gathering around the table to form an orange glow in the darkness. Fast food was placed on the table.

You turned to Warren, teary eyed and fumbled to grab his hand, interlocking your fingers.

“I wanted to thank you.” He sheepishly began to explain, once again shyly avoiding eye contact “I’m a wreck of a person but I have you. I may not be fully convinced yet, but your words earlier today helped a lot with what I was dealing with. I was selfish to not seek out help, to not talk to you.” He scratched the back of his head with his free hand. “I love you. More than you’d ever imagine. I wanted to thank you for everything you do.”

His eyes finally met yours and you let out a choked laugh, trying to hold back the tears but failing miserably. You managed to sputter a small “I love you too, you idiot!” Before you became incoherent. He pulled you into a tight hug, wrapping his wings around the two of you, savouring the moment.

Warren had overcome his insecurities, even if it was in the slightest, to thank you and spend some time with you away from the apartment. It was a gesture that meant the world to you.

[chillinglikeavillanelle]

All the questions about widow. Except the ones where the answer is obvious, you can skip over those, i guess. 🙃

This is long so under a cut :) 

Also spoilers if anyone cares, including for the chapters posted today (9 and 10).

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

It was actually Jodie Comer’s comment about not wanting to play an assassin because of the leather and high heels, which got me thinking about the MCU and how they could have done more with their Russian Assassin and they didn’t. So I just decided to mash the two together. I don’t think I’ve made as much use of the MCU as I could have, and I don’t think they’re super relevant, but you can see earlier that I tried to lean into that more (I did think it would be funny to make Raymond the Winter Soldier, but I thought it would probably only be funny to me.)

I wanted to explore a more ‘sympathetic’ version of Villanelle for Eve, in saying she was made this way (although I guess it could turn out that way on the show depending what we learn about her family next season), but I haven’t ended up playing with that idea much as her and Eve aren’t having heart-to-hearts, and I don’t want to woobify V. 

It’s mainly from Eve’s POV and I feel like Villanelle’s POV would ruin a bit of the mystery, so I’ve used her quite sparingly. 

2: What scene did you first put down?

Um it was actually Bill dying! (Sorry!). The whole thing was very different though - Bill came to collect Eve from the hotel and Villanelle busted in and threw him off the balcony lol. Poor Bill :( 

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

Hmm.

“Evedoes feel a little kidnapped, now, as much as you can when eating chips, atwinge of fear at being unable to contact anyone else. Kidnapped-adjacent, shethinks, if that’s a thing. It annoys her.”

“It’salmost intimate, the way neither of them is put together, neither of them attheir best.”

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

‘Are you going to say goodbye?’ Carolyn says. ‘Terribly rudeto just hang up.’

‘So, the truth is that Eve Polastri doesn’tlie, other people just don’t act how they should?’ - Villanelle.

5: What part was hardest to write?

The space between Eve learning she needed to leave and the ‘Lazy Susan’ incident (which is now my favourite chapter ending). 

The motivation for seeing Faith again, and the way V reacted, were really hard to fit in organically, especially as I knew they’d meet next chapter and I wanted to keep writing that. Originally, V was much more reactive to the news, and I had the bit where she rips out the woman’s heart at the end (drama queen that she is). 

But then I realised I’d given myself a gift with Eve’s fake name, and even if the chapter was no fun to write, I really wanted to nail that reveal. 

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

It’s multi-chapter and long, and the central idea (Eve feeling more sympathy for Villanelle because she’s been ‘made’ and had an obviously hard childhood) has not really materialised at all. Normally I have a really concrete idea of what I want to explore and achieve, whereas this has evolved so much. 

It’s also much more plot/action oriented than my other fics, which are a bit more introspective (although ymmv on Thirty-Five). It makes it fun to write, as instead of doing too much navel-gazing I can write a bit of humour, a bit of drama, a bit of action and not get weighed down by the feels so much. 

It’s also the first fic I put up, and the one I keep coming back to!

7: Where did the title come from?

Tbh I was originally tinkering with the idea of making it a fake-out and having Niko die (so Eve was the Widow) but that’s probably not going to happen. I don’t like killing him when it’s more satisfying for Eve to just leave him. Or like, never go home to him again. 

8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?

Only the fact that I couldn’t eat Skittles for a few years as a kid because I got food poisoning after eating them. Also the ‘You can’t steal a car’ line made me think of the anti-piracy spoof from the IT crowd, but I didn’t think Villanelle would know it so I couldn’t get her to say ‘You wouldn’t shoot a policeman’ :(

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

Yeah, as I mentioned, it was quite different when I wrote some of the main scenes eg Bill dying, Raymond’s death (Villanelle originally helped a lot more), Eve and V were meant to have kissed by now (as Faith and Eve)… there’s a lot of darlings I killed in this fic. 

10: Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story?

I love them. 

11: What do you like best about this fic?

I like that it allows me to write (or attempt to write!) the humour and the drama of the show from a bit of a different angle. I love all of Eve and Villanelle’s interactions, and so getting to write a lot of them together is great, in the same way that Thirty-Five was fun to write. 

(I also like that you like it so much!)

12: What do you like least about this fic?

I think it starts too slow. In the context of the broader fic, I think it works, but I feel like I could have had a punchier start.

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

I listen to everything and anything while writing, and instrumental music (generally the Battlestar Galactica soundtrack) when I’m editing. But Florence + the Machine, Stromae, The Jezabels and Amanda Palmer have been on a rotating playlist.

Florence and The Jezabels make me feel calm, sometimes a little sad, which helps when you’re looking for a bit of depth. Stromae is a bit more upbeat with a twinge of anger, which is good for the action-y scenes or the ‘funny’ scenes, and Amanda Palmer marries black humour and anger together so well that I enjoy listening to her when I have a snappy scene to nail. 

I don’t think there’s a real soundtrack for this fic - just something with a good drum beat from Chapter 5 on though. 

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

Not really? I just want readers to enjoy it, I don’t mind if it’s not educational. Oh wait. There is a petrol station chain in France called Total Petrol. 

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

Phew, so much. I’m really learning how to kill my darlings. It’s really challenged me in regards to making sure the journey is organic - I can tend to focus too much on where I want the characters to be, but it’s not satisfying if they get there without any kind of realism/struggle. So for example changing Raymond’s death was hard, but it just didn’t work with the 25000 words before it so it had to go. 

I think I’m also learning where my strengths lie. I generally have a sparse way of writing where the imagery is there to set a tone or share an idea - which you can’t really do with an action story. So I think in the early chapters I struggled a bit to give enough information about surroundings without making it an info dump (like who really cares about the layout of a room?). Now that they’re together and I can let the dialogue lead the story it’s a bit easier to work out what people need to know and what they don’t. 

[purge-that-urge-rhackathon]

Heya purge! I saw in one of your tags that you’d been consuming fic for around 20 years! That’s like my whole life. Mind telling us how things have changed? I’m sure places like ao3 have changed things a lot. I’m just really curious in fandom and fanfic culture! :3 x

Ao3 is a fucking godsend let me tell you. I won’t make a lot of the same points and stuff that fannish history folks have already documented (how it literally changed, and all the fic we’ve lost that isn’t backed up on floppy disk somewhere… I’d say we’ve lost an equivalent to the digital burning of alexandria honestly) but i can tell you my experience :3

I’ll stick it under a cut cuz i kind of rambled… but i had fun doing so ahahha xD sorry you unleashed the tiger from the cage xD

We all make jokes about ‘being there’ when stuff in fandom history happened, but i’ve been around since all the major purges (LOL my name is so fitting in retrospect ahahha). ff.net’s various purges (and the whole anne rice suing fanfic writers and shit… i never DID agree to their new terms of service haha), geocities sites going down, obviously the more recent shit too, but like I’ve been around even for the creations of certain, older fanfic sites too (one of the oldest slash forums for lord of the rings fics for example… I was there, Gandalf LOLOL!!… and now that i check the date on that i feel old as balls thanks anon xDDD and wow my one fic is still up there PFFFFT) but like, I come from an era where you took your floppy disk and copy/pasted shit from online (once it even loaded) for later reading, and also so you could find it again, because also before ff.net it was hard to find stuff. I’m pre-google ya’ll xD You dont UNDERSTAND the horrors of trying to find anything pre-google. Ya’ll have it so fucking good D:

There was never an abundance of content like there is today, and so you can bet your shit we were grateful as fuck for what was out there, let alone for someone with a decent command of writing and storytelling. Everyone commented on everything (once that was something even implemented… it was email lists before that, and comments sent in that way… i still have my e-mailed comments from fic readers haha), and it was (and still is, in my honest opinion because people entitled as FUCK now) one of the GREATEST faux paus you could do to be reading a fic (esp. multi-chaptered) and not comment. The indignity of not giving back a little (and it still is a little, which is why i get so damn fired up on this subject) for aaaaaaaall the words and story and everything you just read was a serious sin against fanfic writers. I still think its seriously fucked up not to comment (and again, i’ve mentioned that if you dont got the spoons, thats obviously different) but like, the entitlement that runs rampant today did not even exist back then. Yeah, you still had the assholes whose comment would literally consist only of “where’s the rest?” with ZERO actual thanks or input while expecting/thinking they deserve more (and THEN you could remove chapters or stories, cuz god giveth and damn does she taketh away xD), but it wasn’t nearly as prolific as it is today.

The commenting culture today and the backlash against writers wanting comments on their work in return for providing said free content makes me mad enough to wanna curb stomp some people. I’m a bartender, I don’t put up with shit HAHA xD But the entitlement especially now and people who act like writers are being uppity for wanting a small return on their craft are disgusting. Same type of entitlement as art thieves (we all know the type). We didn’t put up with that shit back then. People acting like little bitches wanting free stuff for literally nothing? We’d pull the whole fic. And the community would handle it and it usually turned into a teaching moment about how damn important it is to comment and just how much freaking control writers DO have over their media. We’d pull it from public view unless amends were made (whether that be a private note from someone entitled finally paying their fucking due with proper humility, or reaching a comment count when you had hundreds of people reading but not commenting). Damn i miss taking away fic xD We played hardball back then xD

That was the fucking worst and people were rightfully denied access to fic if hits didn’t coincide with comments. You could publish a chapter and then decide to remove it from view (either for editing, or hostage taking for comments…. which i miss dearly AHAHAH it forced people to learn to be proper commenters and interact with those whose media they were consuming). It’s a big part of what I miss because just like a proper community, people kept each other in check and made sure everyone played nice. You enjoyed a fic? You sure as hell let that writer know. Now though…. the entitlement drives me up the fucking absolute walls and makes me wanna put stuff behind a paywall sometimes…. everyone is lucky im lazy as shit tho AHAHAH and im usually fine after venting xD

But yeah, fanfic culture in general has shifted in a major way to constantly consume and NEVER give back, either in comments, or creating new content yourself to also add to the community (for example as i’m sure we’re all aware, like ALL the people who bitch about certain ships or ‘why ship this when you can ship THIS?’…. Like, instead of bitching that ‘WAH WAH this author doesnt WRITE the ship I LIKE why can’t they write THAT??’ people came up with the radical idea of CREATING the content they wanted to see :| And if weren’t that good of a writer/artist to do so? Well then you SUPPORTED the writers/artists you enjoyed by leaving comments on their shit OR getting a commission… Goddamn i remember when even ‘commissioning’ people was a wild concept… Ya’ll dont know ahahah xD

I do believe that this is a huge source of where Anti-shipper behavior has stemmed from; entitlement gone berserk. And public schools and shit are still largely full of my parents’ generation who were not computer-literate either in function or courtesy, so even as internet social skills are not being taught correctly (or safety; they scared the SHIT out of us back in the day and now everyone has all their shit and pictures online haha) so there’s also a huge disconnect socially which i think has impacted online fandom spaces and what is considered acceptable or not. People also turn into fucking swine when they think they’re anonymous online (and boy do they change their tune fucking quickly when you out them) and i think the whole anonymity thing is also a factor of this whole entitlement issue in fandom spaces; making demands without giving ANYTHING back. Like I’ve mentioned in the past, I don’t put up with that shit, and it’s not a coincidence I was going to work for the CIA after I just left Japan about 3yrs back (thank fuck I didn’t cuz FUUUUCK this administration) cuz people are dumb as shit and basic tracking skills to call someone out on their bullshit has been my bread and butter since i was like 12 haha. You act dishonest and entitled, and it’s gonna come back to you in some shape or form. You’re going to reap what you sow. That was the motto back then and I still believe in it today.

Hell, it has shocked the FUCK out of me the few times i’ve had people tell me ‘omg me and my friend were talking about your latest update!’ and i’m just like O_O????? because also back in the day, ‘fanfiction’ was kind of a taboo word. You never said you were into fanfic in mixed company. You more or less NEVER discussed it publicly (I’m not even talking dirty stuff, just normal, sfw fanfiction) because it primarily existed only online (for me; i’m post-fan magazines but pre-internet fanfic sites LOLOL). Hell, I got my college english professor into fanfiction. She didn’t even know what it was, let alone that something like that existed, and I had to explain it to her my first year of college kind of with a red face xD She was a writing-professor too so like, let that date the culture a bit. Like, if that was literally her major field of expertise and she didn’t know about it, that should tell you how not-mainstream fanfic was.

I’m kind of out of touch with that myself. Do kids (ya’ll are kids to me okay? xD) mention fanfiction as a reading/entertainment medium in normal conversation? Like, you could mention, without getting weird looks, ‘oh i enjoy reading fanfiction’ or (and i’m like internally gasping at the idea here) being able to say ‘yeah i enjoy writing fanfiction’? Is that a thing? I sure as hell don’t tell my peers that I write fanfic, let alone that i’m approaching 1million words for borderlands stuff alone AHAHAH It’s STILL taboo and seen as a lesser writing medium to folks my age. If you weren’t in a ‘geek’ circle (and i mean, i had friends who played D&D at lunch, and one friend who we mentioned fanfic together with) then culturally, as an art form, it wasn’t acceptable to discuss. Like, i’m STILL in that mindset that fanfic is not something to be discussed off the internet with people and it makes me very very uncomfortable to do so unless i know 100% I can speak discretely with someone. That’s what the offline culture was. I know its way different in some respects, like me and my youngest sister are 10yrs apart and her experiences with fandom are wildly different, but the idea of people actually talking about someone’s fic together with friends absolutely blows my fucking mind.

So, it’s changed in good ways too xD I just fucking HATE people who think they’re entitled to never comment or give back to the community sooooo i tend to get stuck on that issue, ESPECIALLY, again, as a writer approaching 1million words. *salute* doing my duty to the fandom community LOLOL or polluting the fandom community if you’re an anti AHAHAH antis can suck my entire ass and i’ll go on to put another million words of what they HATE into the world and they cant stop me ;3 spite is a fabulous motivator xD

The tools back then were a lot more crude, abilities and functionality was limited (but also better in some ways; moving fic to the ‘backroom’ so to speak), and even finding stuff was hard and relied on the hushed whispers of friends, but damn the community was better. So much better. So much more positive and accountability made people decent. So like, I do LOVE a lot of what we have now, but we have lost SO much. Both in terms of content and sense of community. I wish people would put more positivity into the content they’re consuming and lift up others. It’s why i try my damnedest to leave commenting tags on EVERY SINGLE THING i ever reblog here, because i *know* firsthand how much it means. To scream your art into the silence and only get the equivalent of stares back is maddening.

So yeah. Stuff has changed. Capitalism and censorship are running especially rampant hand-in-hand right now, and lord forbid we come full circle where there are no more places for us. I mean, if we have to go back to email lists, hell I’m already ready and an old veteran to that system anyhow. I’d miss all the content we all have access to…. but then there’s also that 90% commenting rate you get with that kind of system so HEEEEEY let it all fall down! bahahah xD