#and he gives the worst fucking essay prompts I’ve ever read

[slicksquid]

don’t go to college they’ll assign you 3 essays due the same day and if you don’t get a 100 on each of them they’ll take you out back and kill you

#I’m dying a little bit #this sucks lmao #I hate that I have the same prof for 2 classes bc he pulls shit like this #aka the exact same schedule and assignments #and he gives the worst fucking essay prompts I’ve ever read #they’re so vague and broad in order to ‘encourage creativity’ but if you don’t ‘creatively’ come up with the one thing he wants to hear #-1000000 points #spring break I believe in you!!!!! #save me #I should rewatch fantasy high #(spring break I believe in you’s origins)

[mammoneymelon]

How the brothers would react to finding out that MC is autistic

before anyone says anything, i’m autistic and just really want some representation

TW for ableism! the boys are doing their best but no NT immediately knows everything about autism

it’s a bit random, but i headcanon that lucifer has misophonia, so it’s only a matter of time before a noisy/verbal stim starts to drive him up a wall

“what in the devildom are you doing?” he’d ask, eyebrows scrunched in frustration

you have no idea what he’s talking about; after all, you’ve just been sitting on your DDD playing some rhythm game

“what do you mean?”

“you’ve been making that noise for hours; cut it out before i have to go find the packing tape.”

you know him well enough to know he isn’t joking, so you nod and do your best to stop, ignoring the feeling of dread beginning to well up in your chest

you go back to your game, and soon enough, you’re back to ‘making that noise’

you see lucifer stand up, bringing your action to your attention.

“oh, sorry! i didn’t realize i was doing it again, sorry!”

“oh?” he asked, looking down at you. 

“it’s stimming. autistic people do it a lot more than others, and sometimes we don’t even notice it.” there’s a moment of silence but you realize you just told him something you hadn’t even told your human friends

“ah, yes, i do remember reading about that in your file. i didn’t want to say anything so as not to offend you.”

you shake your head. “dude! that’s personal business! i don’t like telling people.”

lucifer’s gaze seems to soften. “don’t fret, MC. i won’t tell a soul.”

and he doesn’t.

he also totally buys you quiet stim toys

it’s not long before mammon realizes you are terrible at reading the room

you have a terrible habit of cracking a joke at the worst time or saying the first thing that comes to your mind, even if it was at the expense of others

at first, mammon, mammon thought you were really brave. now, however, he sees that you just have no idea what you’re doing

currently, your knack for trouble had landed you in detention, something you’d gotten fairly used to in the human world. mammon was sitting next to you - he was paying for trying to defend you

“lucifer’s going to kill us. again.”

“and whose fault is that?”

“sorry,” you mumble. “it’s not like i was trying to get us here.”

“really? because it’s startin’ to seem like you are. not that i blame ya, if i were you i’d do anything to spend more time with the great mammon.” he gives you a smile, and you really hope that means he isn’t mad

“i really don’t like upsetting people, i just don’t really get tone? i didn’t even realize the teacher was mad until you stepped in. “

“dude, she was on the verge of killing ya! what do ya mean you “didn’t even realize”?

you pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. “it’s part of a disorder i have. autism. i just don’t get some stuff that comes naturally to other people.”

“ohhh.” mammon slaps his head, feeling like an idiot. “sorry,” he murmurs, and you barely hear it

mammon, being, well, mammon, will probably forget.

it’s not that he doesn’t care! it’s just not something that comes up in conversation.

of course, when the two of you do talk about it, he picks up on the symptoms pretty quickly. he’s a pretty smart guy, and he’ll do anything and everything for his human

the two of you are working on a co-op dungeon while you talk about your current special interest

“wow, MC, you know a lot about this!”

“thanks,” you respond, and it hits you - you’ve been infodumping almost this whole time

“haha, yeah, blame it on the autism brain,” you joke absentmindedly, not really caring if he knew. you two were good friends, why would being neurodivergent make a difference?

levi, on the other hand, does a double take. being the gamer he is, he’d definitely heard the word used as an insult, but he’d never thought about anyone actually having autism - much less his best friend

“MC, you have autism?” he turns to you looking genuinely confused, his controller sitting, forgotten, in his lap

“um, yeah? it’s not really a big deal,” you say, shrugging

“yeah it is! i mean i knew you were pretty weird, since you hang out with me-” he stops mid-sentence, realizing his mistake. “NOT IN A BAD WAY, OF COURSE! ah sorry, i said something stupid, like always.”

you shake your head with a small smile. you can tell he’s trying. “trust me, i’ve heard much worse. you’re fine, levi.”

he glances up at you, face red from embarrassment, and your smile widens. “i mean, i don’t think like ‘normal’ people anyway, so yeah, i kinda am weird.”

once you leave his room, he’s at his pc, researching more vigorously that he’s ever done for a class

the more he learns, the more annoyed he gets at the complete misunderstanding of the disorder

ultimately, he just wants to make sure you feel supported and understood

you’re sitting in the library, doing your homework while satan looks over your essay, checking for errors

“oi, MC”

“what’s up?” you respond, still focused on your work

“are you scared of me?”

this prompts you to look up, focusing your eyes on his hands

“i was when i first came here, and i definitely would be scared if i really pissed you off, but no, i’m not scared of you. why do you ask?”

“you never look me in the eyes. or my brothers, actually.”

oh. you’d been hoping no one had noticed. “oh, i just don’t like eye contact. it makes me uncomfortable.” you return your eyes to your paper, hoping that was enough.

“how so?” 

so it wasn’t enough.

“i’m autistic, genius. i figured it was obvious by now.”

“oh. that makes sense.” that’s all he says, so you try to return your focus to your homework.

satan is probably the most comfortable talking to you about it. he’ll ask you questions about your personal experiences and make an effort to understand you better

one day you look over his shoulder to find him reading an article on masking on his DDD

he cares deeply for you, even if it’s hard for him to say so

asmo has wrangled you into yet another shopping trip

“MC, look at this!! you have to try it on!”

one look at the article of clothing and your face is already scrunching up

“absolutely not.”

“awe, why not?” he gives you the biggest puppy eyes and you sigh. he knows your weaknesses.

“the material. i hate it.”

“but it would look so good on you~”

clearly, he’s not going to give up unless you explain yourself to him

“sure, for a couple seconds, until i have a complete meltdown,” you remark. “i’m autistic, so some textures just make me feel really bad.”

his mouth makes an ‘o’ shape, and then he goes back to looking confused. “i hadn’t even thought about that as a possibility! you should’ve said something earlier!”

he feels really bad about all the times he’s touched you without warning. he thought your shock was cute (and he still does), but he knows that autistic people sometimes dislike touch - he’s definitely had at least a couple autistic ‘partners’ in the past

he’s quite the observant demon, quickly picking up on sensations you d and don’t like. if you’re bothered by smells, he does his best to lay off on the perfume - granted, it’s a necessary part of his routine that he absolutely cannot give up completely. he lets you play with the dimmer in his room so you can find the amount of light that works best.

occasionally, he’ll have to tell you that he’s trying his absolute best to flirt and you are giving him nothing. you’re just like “oh shit i didn’t realize”

asmo’s just a sweetheart who wants you to be comfortable

beel unfortunately has to learn about your autism because of a situation out of your control

you’re in the gym, keeping him company while he works out

you’re searching his bag and you realize you don’t have your headphones

oh fuck.

you always bring your headphones to the gym; the sounds of televisions, music, people talking, weights clinking, treadmills rumbling... it’s too much

not to mention the stench of sweat and the florescent lights - truly an autistic person’s nightmare

you squeeze you eyes shut, but that only makes the noise worse. you’re surrounded by noise and you can’t stop it. it occurs to you that you’re no longer breathing properly but it’s just too loud and you’re so small

“MC?” beel’s voice is soft and filled with obvious concern. you open your eyes, seeing him kneeling in front of you. your eyes sting, and you realize you’re tearing up. “MC, are you alright?” 

all you can do is shake your head

“do you want to go home?” you nod, biting your lip as he stands up, making you feel even smaller.

he quickly packs his things into his bag and offers you a hand, helping you get up

he quickly escorts you outside, where you practically gulp for air. 

he waits patiently with you while you slowly ground yourself. 

“okay, let’s go home.” you explain sensory overload as you walk, then tell him about your autism

beel, like asmo, is very observant and he learns surprisingly fast. 

he’s also very protective of you. if someone triggers you, he won’t hesitate to tell them off before doing a grounding exercise with you

he’s basically you’re giant therapy demon and you love him for it

it’s becoming way too much. you’ve been masking heavily for months, monitoring your every move while doing your absolute best to thrive in a (literally) completely different universe than what you’re used to

you’re laying facedown on the couch, practically unable to move. you want to go to your room, but your body won’t let you

“mc?” you hear belphegor’s voice. “are you trying to imitate me?” he teases

you simply groan in response, not wanting to bother

for a moment he goes silent. then, you feel a hand on your shoulder

you jolt up, swiping his hand away as you let out a small shout. belphie’s eyes are widened in surprise

“don’t touch me! ...please,” you add as an afterthought, feeling bad for scaring him

he sits with you on the couch, taking care to leave space between the two of you. “what’s wrong?” you don’t respond. “mc?”

“burnout. too much. feel bad.”

belphie has absolutely no clue what that means, but he figures he knows something that might help.

“want to take a nap with me?”

you have to think about it before responding with a “sure” and slowly crawling into his arms (if that’s something you’re okay with)

it’s night when the two of you wake up. you still feel awful, but you can at least cope better.

once belphie’s more awake, he asks you what the hell happened

“two words: autistic shutdown”

“that doesn’t explain anything” - belphie really doesn’t know anything about humans

you do your best to explain - you were born with a brain that works a bit differently than most humans. some of the symptoms are an aversion to change and ‘odd’ behavior that’s difficult to hide. when you get too stressed, you just kinda ‘shut down’

he takes a bit to really understand, but once he does, he does his best to support you.

he falls asleep to your infodumping and you find it endearing

he gets good at recognizing when you’re starting to shut down and he always convinces you to take a break via a cuddly nap

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #autistic reader #tw ableism #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmo x reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me belphie x reader

[nevermindirah]

Dorothy Freeman facts

By facts I of course mean headcanons, because Nile's mom doesn't get a first name in canon (or even confirmation that her last name is Freeman). All we know about her is the picture on Nile's phone lock screen (which is Kiki Layne's real-life mom and brother!) and a few lines that Nile tells Andy about her. I’ve been collecting my Dorothy headcanons for a while now to eventually make a post, and @mprosperossprite​‘s excellent post giving non-Americans context for what it means that Nile is from the South Side of Chicago prompted me to go ahead and share this. Disclaimer that I’m white and I will absolutely make corrections if it’s pointed out that I’ve caused harm with any of this.

So here have some fun facts about the version of Mama Freeman who lives in my head rent-free:

Her family and growing up:

she was born in the mid-'60s and named after Dorothy Dandridge

I can’t decide whether she was born in Chicago or moved there later on (maybe with Nile’s dad?) and when in the waves of the Great Migration her family left the South

she came of age in the "post"-Civil Rights movement and went to college in the mid-80s when a lot of what are now the foundational classics of Black feminism were being written

she was a young adult when Anita Hill risked so much to report that a Supreme Court nominee had sexually harassed her, and as a result she HATES Joe Biden

Marriage and babies:

she met Nile's father — I can’t decide how they met and I have two competing headcanons for his name, either Gideon for the hefty Biblical masculinity vibes (Giddy for short among family, that man loved to laugh) or Carl, which started out as a shitty Carl’s Jr burger chain joke that turns out to be perfect (it means free man!), and @knoepfchen​ used it in the sequel to if you do take a thief where Carl is alive!! — and Dorothy was a little skeptical of his near-religious devotion to the military but he was really hot and really devoted to her and they made it work

she's a little pissed that she was right but it's unbearable if she thinks about it too often

it's going to be a long, long time before she can look back on pictures of Baby Nile stomping around the house in her dad's combat boots (this is a Gina Prince Bythewood headcanon, whyyyyyyyy can I not find a link to where she said this)

she named their second baby Indus, Indy for short (this is nearly as established fanon in Book of Nile circles as how much Booker loves eating pussy, and Indy Freeman as a young adult is portrayed by either Aldis Hodge or John Boyega I don’t make the rules)

Work:

Dorothy did some office jobs but nothing really grabbed her, and she was probably gonna have to move for her husband's career, so she decided on teaching — high school humanities

she’s been active in CTU (one of the strongest teacher’s unions in the US) her whole career and one year she was on the bargaining committee and her babies know damn well never to trust a boss, not even one who says all the right things — if she ever finds out the way Nile said "like Quynh?" when Andy promised to protect her, she will lose her mind with pride

(Nile was 18 and freshly graduated from high school in 2012 when CTU went on strike for the first time in a generation and she brought her mom snacks on the picket line)

one of her very favorite things is getting her students to laugh despite themselves at her "oh my GOD you're so EMBARRASSING" old-people jokes

she's one of those teachers who can get 30+ teenagers to go dead silent with judicious application of body language

she's known to occasionally go easy on grading subjective things like essays when she knows students are having a particularly rough time at home, but the second she gets the feeling they're taking advantage and not trying their best that shit is over and they better mind their Ps & Qs

she's the kind of person who says old-people shit like that

she gives her students assignments like "help 5 neighbors register to vote" and "write a compare/contrast table about the candidates in this local election" and "research 5 different ways you could get grant money to do X" and other practical civic-minded shit

standardized testing is her supervillain origin story, just kidding it’s Rahm Emanuel, why the fuck did Obama trust that asshole

After her husband died:

she would have lost her goddamn mind if it weren't for her church friends after her husband died, people from the church raised money so they could make ends meet while his pension paperwork was taking forever, church friends watched Indy so Nile could go out for the soccer team, etc etc

she sold her and her late husband's house and moved to a 3-bedroom co-op unit when Nile started high school, it's more affordable and it meant she didn't have to worry about household repairs in the same way, she can use a wrench if she needs to but she doesn't have time and it just makes her grief flare up (co-op housing has a long history in Chicago and other US cities (like Washington DC where I live) as a way for Black people to access decent, affordable housing in the face of entrenched discrimination)

the move meant putting a longer commute between her and church, but she didn't even bother looking for a church closer to their new home, she loaded the kids into the car on the weekends, parking is hell in their new neighborhood but it's worth giving up a hard-won parking spot to not have to wait so long for the L on Sunday mornings

Indy lived with her through college and he was gearing up to get his own place when Nile died, Dorothy was planning to move into a one-bedroom in the co-op building because she doesn't need so much space anymore, Indy took a day off from his new job (not so new anymore, her baby's so grown!) to help her sort things to donate when those dress-uniform Marines came to their door

part of her wishes she could've been home more and not had to rely on Nile so much for help with Indy, but he's turned out such a kind young man, and he's a much better cook than his sister is (was, oh God — no wait, is! she’s alive! what do you mean you’ve been alive all this time??)

some of the girls from church are encouraging her to check out this social dancing thing, nobody's pressuring her to date but there's definitely been some ribbing, and with Indy out of the house... maybe? probably not, but maybe

Her feelings and beliefs and likes and dislikes:

she's an absolute badass and also she's a soft human woman with lots of feelings

she's very, very traditional in some ways, and part of her mixed feelings about Nile following in her dad's footsteps is gender stuff, she's proud of her daughter and would never stand in the way of what Nile wants to do with her life, and if Nile came home and told her she's a lesbian she would never reject her, but if Nile came home and told her she's bisexual maybe she can just try focusing on men? “I love you sweetheart and I want you to be happy I just know how hard it is already for us in this world” type shit

she has been on team natural hair basically her entire life and one of the worst fights she and Nile ever had was over Nile wanting to straighten her hair as a pre-teen

Indy takes more after her and Nile takes more after their dad, she's so proud of both of them, but Dorothy's activism was mostly wearing her natural hair to work and daring bosses to give her shit, Indy's out there marching in the streets like her parents had and she WORRIES

she teases Indy for going to so many protests like he's using it as an excuse to meet girls, but she WORRIES

when she turns 60, she gets box braids with streaks of dark purple, subtle enough that it's still work-appropriate but it makes her smile, she may be old now but damnit she’s still pretty!

she loves Grey's Anatomy and Star Trek and she watched Bridgerton all in one day

she has a dirty-old-lady celebrity crush on Chris Hemsworth

if she's ever masturbated thinking about Donna Summer, well, that's nobody's business but her own (do non-Americans know about the queen of disco??)

If you want to read fic featuring Dorothy:

I won't have to leave alone, 1000 words, Nile has a nightmare and decides to go tell her family she's immortal

I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore, 65k, Nile adjusts to immortality and does a lot of soul searching about what it means to "do what we think is right", Booker goes to grad school for trauma studies, the working title of this fic was Booker Reads Edward Said and Gloria Anzaldúa and Goes Down on Nile and the final product has an annotated bibliography in the author's notes if you’re into that kind of thing, a lot of my Dorothy Freeman headcanons were born of my process writing this

Gather round the table, we'll give you a treat, 2279 words, college AU, Nile brings her Jewish boyfriend home for Christmas

a contribution I made to Shitty Old Guard Deaths: (Booker, USA, 2025, cause of death: a mother’s righteous wrath)

#nile freeman #nile's family #dorothy freeman #tog headcanons #tog meta #mine #long post

[weasleydream]

unfairness

here it is, my participation to @omgrachwrites​ writing challenge! once again, congrats for 1k love, so happy for you!!

the prompts were “I’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home.” ; “I really want to kiss you right now.” “Do it then.” and “This is all in my head. It’s all happening in my head.”

As usual, feel free to like, comment, reblog and enjoy!

TW: the end can be a bit violent

masterlist 

We had realized our relationship wasn’t as bright as we had thought when an umpteenth rumor about us had spread between Hogwarts’ walls, at some point during our sixth year of school. It wasn’t the first, far from that, but it was definitely the worst because it also involved this Ravenclaw guy whose name was still unknown to me at the time. As far as I could tell, there had always been jealous girls that had tried to get Fred to dump me, and plenty of boys that wanted to convince me that they had more to offer than the Weasley boy. The only difference with this rumor was that Fred kinda despised said Ravenclaw boy because of a Quidditch match the year before, and he had turned his nervousness into a burst of anger I hadn’t anticipated. Problem is that, at the same time, I had heard Angelina telling Katie that Lee had told her that George had implied that Fred was seeing someone else, and just everything that had happened that year had gotten the best of me. 

Our first break up had occurred a week after we had heard about these rumours, and during the rest of our sixth year and most of our seventh until now, we had ended our relationship twice more. 

The worst in all of this was that I loved Fred. So fucking much. I loved him and I was ready to do anything for him, and I knew it was the same for him, but it was just not possible to keep a relationship as ours was. We didn’t have the same interests at all, Fred was obsessed with his shop project and me with the learning of defense against the dark arts (through Dumbledore’s army, of course). He was nonchalant and sometimes forgetful, I was fussy and very sensitive. When one of us was too busy, a date planned was quickly forgotten and the fight very likely to happen. 

That’s why, as I was in my dorm trying to choose what to wear, the main question in my mind was to know if it was worth it. A few clothes were scattered on my bed, and two pairs of boots were thrown on the floor. It had been almost half an hour and I only had twenty minutes left before having to join Fred who would probably be waiting for me in the common room. I had hoped this little preparation session would help me ease my terrible mood but it seemed that it was a fail. Finally opting for comfortable jeans and one of Fred’s sweaters - even though we were almost in June, the week had been a bit cold - I spent the rest of my time reading again some transfiguration notes. I headed downstairs exactly twenty minutes later only to find the common room completely empty. 

“Of course…” I muttered. 

As soon as the portrait opened, the noise in the corridors broke the silence I had been plunged in for an hour. Some people were talking about the coming exams, others about the next class they would have. Not once did I hear my name in a conversation, which had become quite rare with the time. I had learned the hard way that people always had something to say about my relationship with Fred, and if there wasn’t any tasty gossip, then inventing one wasn’t a problem.

I found Fred in the great hall, sitting with George, Ron and Harry. They were all talking about something that had to be classified as a defence secret considering how they suddenly became interested in everything that wasn’t me. Ron and Harry turned to Hermione, who was sitting at the table behind them, and George patted Fred’s shoulder before nodding at me and leaving without a word. It was usual, this taciturn behaviour George had when I was here; we had never gotten along that well, and if I was being honest, it was probably another problem between Fred and I. 

We headed outside and took the road to Hogsmeade. We were walking next to each other, our hands brushing every now and then without ever really touching. The distance had become natural, touches were rare now and it was in moments like these that I hated it the most. Hating on the happy couples we saw on our way was easier than trying to find something nice to talk about, so that’s what I did. Fred looked like he was lost in his world and he only gave me some attention when he pushed the Three Broomsticks’ door for me. We found a table against a window, which provided a nice warmth, and Fred put his jacket on the chair. 

“Butterbeer or hot chocolate?”

“You know the answer.” I said, playing with my sleeve.

“So it’ll be hot chocolate with chamallows for the damsel.”

He left with a smile to order our drinks, leaving me alone for a good five minutes. When he came back, a pint of butterbeer in one hand and a mug of hot chocolate in the other, I had had plenty of time to ruminate over everything I had decided to talk about with him during the past two days. However, the chuckle that shook his shoulders when he told me about the guy who had just tripped with three bottles of butterbeer in his hands stopped me. It could be a good afternoon, and these were too rare for my liking. It happened of course, our relationship wasn’t absolute hell, but it had definitely worsened with the time. 

“Y/N, you okay? You look quite pale.” Fred was looking at me with concern in the eyes. “No, don’t tell me: I bet a galleon you’ve been working on your potion essay until very very late at night. How right am I?”

“Very right,” I muttered before passing a hand on my face. “I don’t get it. How can you spend so little time on your work without being at least a little bit nervous?”

“You know I don’t really care about all of this. I’ve got other priorities and bigger ambitions.”

“I know, but you’ll need this knowledge, won’t you?”

Fred was keen to avoid another argument, and he sighed loudly. 

“We’ve already talked about this Y/N, George and I can do without all this scolar stuff. Plenty of people have done that already.”

“I know, I know.”

“I’m sorry we’ve spent all that time arguing.” added Fred after a pause. “It’s not time we can gain back.”

“Maybe we can’t,” I began cautiously, “but we can try to do better. Try not to lose more time.”

“It’s not like we have more time to lose anyway.” Another pause. “Do you want to take a walk? Looks like it’s getting warmer outside.”

We got up and exited the pub. Indeed, the sun was higher in the sky and its rays weren’t hidden by clouds. The warmth on my face was more than welcome, and the pleasant sensation made me forget Fred’s last sentence. 

This time, he grabbed my hand and we exchanged jokes on the way back to the castle. We bumped into a few friends and even one or two professors, but most of the time it was just Fred and I. Until the moment we arrived near the castle entrance, that is. 

“Hey Y/L/N, how are you?”

A Slytherin guy stepped in front of me, obliging me to stop and pull on Fred’s hand. The least I could say was that he didn’t look pleased at all with the interruption. The Slytherin didn’t look like he gave a care and kept smiling at me. 

“I was thinking, we could go to Hogsmeade together one of these days. I mean, I guess you want to cover your back, so I’m here if-”

I wanted this pretentious git to shut up, and it looked like Fred had read in my mind because his fist collided with the nose of the guy with a disgusting noise of cracked bone. 

“That’s what you get for trying to ask my girlfriend out.” he muttered before grabbing my hand. 

I should have said something, whether thank you or are you crazy? but in all honesty I was trying to calm my heart, which was beating like crazy. It was rare to hear such words from Fred’s mouth or so it had become, but hearing him calling me his girlfriend, punching a guy that was hitting on me, that gave me hope for our couple. 

And it made it even more painful when, a few weeks later, Fred left Hogwarts with George on his broom without a word to me. Without something as simple as a glance behind. All I could do was watch helplessly as he saluted Peeves and flew away and try to process the fact that he was giving up on me. Did that mean that we weren’t together anymore? That he had decided on his own he had enough of me, that I wasn’t worth the effort? It’s right here, alone in this crowded corridor after the most crazy departure from the castle we had witnessed, that I understood the meaning of what Fred had told me back at the Three Broomsticks, during our last date. It’s not like we have more time to lose anyway. What an idiot I had been! Here I was, thinking he was talking about the war, persuaded that he was just being extremely pessimistic, when he was in fact confessing that he was going to leave the castle and basically dump me without having the decency to assume it in front of me! I got back to my dorm, trying my best to keep a neutral face as I knew most of the students I would bump into were going to search for the slightest ounce of pain on my face. I only let my walls crumble when I got to the common room, and the first sobs left my mouth when the door of the dorm was closed. 

I threw myself on my bed and grabbed the pillow that I wedged underneath my chest. The anger would come later; for now, I needed to cry as many tears as I had in stock. I stayed in my bed the rest of the day, did surprisingly well in faking sleep when the dorm filled, and spent an agitated night. When I got up the next morning, my first thought was to wonder why my head was so heavy and painful, and when I remembered, my second thought was that it was time for anger. I grabbed my prettiest shirt, slipped in a particularly fitting pair of jeans, and watched myself in the mirror, hoping to fool people enough to avoid questions. At the sight of my dull skin, my eye bags and my glossy eyes, I realized the most beautiful clothes in the world wouldn’t make me feel better, so I sighed, grabbed my bag, sighed again and left the dorm with one goal: forgetting Fred Weasley, my love for him and the pain he had caused me. 

_ _ _ 

A few months later, it had become very obvious that I had failed that goal. I was still full of resentment toward Fred and what he had done, and I was able to get really irritated when someone reminded me of him in any way. The fact that I had gotten involved completely in the Order and that most of his family was in it too didn’t help at all and it had led to a few encounters I would have given anything to avoid. Fortunately, he was busy with his joke shop and we never saw each other long enough to say more than hello. Well, that was before Mrs Weasley organized a diner at the Burrow with a few members of the Order, me included. 

She had been particularly pleased to see me, and Ginny had confessed it was because her mother was persuaded I would run away. 

“You know, because of the git I have to call my brother.” she had added with a disapproving pout. 

Ginny had been very disappointed in Fred when he had left, not because of school because she would have done the same if she could but because he had left me on the sidelines. She was a good friend and confident, and even though family was everything to her, she had assured me she would never forgive Fred for what she used to call “a very stupid mistake”. However, as I was squeezed on the couch between her and Tonks, all the support she could provide me wasn’t enough considering the fact that Fred was only a meter or two away and his eyes were fixed on me. I was repeating myself that it didn’t matter, I didn’t care, it didn’t matter, but his gaze seemed to be getting heavier as the minutes passed by. It took me a good quarter of an hour to gather enough courage to look directly at him with the idea of making him understand he was annoying me, but the strange sparkle in his eyes intrigued me more than it should and I found myself looking away faster than what my ego could accept. A few seconds later, his hand was on my shoulder. 

“Do you mind if we talk?”

Ginny’s elbow hit my ribs repetitively until I sighed. I got up without a word and lifted an eyebrow, which Fred interpreted as a positive answer and apparently as an authorization to grab my hand. 

“Don’t go too far.” I warned before removing my hand and walking toward the stairs. 

I didn’t know how this would turn out as we hadn’t had any proper conversation since he had left months ago. All this rancour I had built up was ready to resurface at any moment, and I wanted to do my best to avoid the disaster. That’s why I decided it would be better if this conversation happened on a ground as neutral as possible, which would be complicated considering the fact that I was in his childhood home, but not impossible. I settled for a room I was sure wasn’t the twins’, maybe Bill’s, and if he wondered why this choice, Fred never questioned it out loud. The door closed behind his back, and I was surprised to notice that it didn’t cause me any anxiety. 

“You look tired.” he finally said with a certain hesitation when he understood I wouldn’t speak first. 

Quite honestly, I had imagined a lot of things, but certainly not this. 

“I’m- what? What does that mean?” I added with a grunt. 

“It means I think you look tired. Is it that surprising?”

“That you’re concerned for my well-being? Since you left school without telling me and didn’t give me any news I have to admit that yes, it’s surprising!”

It was too late to contain my anger as it seemed, and I decided the best I could do was leave the room before exploding. It was without counting on Fred though, who visibly didn’t want me to leave. 

“Get out of the way Fred, there’s nothing left to say.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, there’s everything to say.”

We looked each other in the eyes for quite a long time, and I eventually sighed before looking away, too afraid of the heartbeat my heart missed. 

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m sorry for what I did.”

“You’re right, I don’t want to hear it.”

“I wanted to tell you, really, I did, but things weren’t great between us and… I don’t know, I didn’t think that much.” I scoffed and took a step backward. Fred’s eyes were filled with what I had a hard time admitting was sadness - or regret, maybe? - and they followed every movement I made to sit on the bed. “Listen Y/N, back then I really loved you and I still love you now. But this thing between us… It turned out not good at all, it wasn’t healthy for us to keep it the way it was.”

“So you think you only had two options? You decided by yourself you had to choose between staying with me and keep suffering or leaving without a word?” My voice was maybe a bit louder than intended, but it was too late to keep my heart closed. He wanted a discussion, he would have it. “You never for a second imagined we could make it work again? Fred, what you did was breaking my heart, nothing else!”

“And I broke mine in the process.” 

“I- I don’t believe you. You’re the one who made the decision, you are the responsible. You are responsible!”

Fred looked away, and I could have sworn he was tearing up. All the words he could have come up with wouldn’t have changed my mind, but the tears that were now threatening to run down his face made my anger falter. It wasn’t pity but comprehension; these tears, they had covered my face so many times these last months and even before that I could recognize them undoubtedly. I was blaming Fred for leaving me, and even if I wouldn’t forgive him for the way he did it, blaming him for wanting a true breakup would be hypocritical. After all, hadn’t I thought about it myself? The only difference was that Fred had been brave enough to end it, not me. But that didn’t make the abandon any less painful, or these last months any less hard to think about. 

“Why now? It’s been months, why do you apologize now?”

Fred sniffed quietly and passed his hand on his face, wiping away a few tears in the process.

“Would you have let me apologize before?” Of course not, I would have punched him and left. “We were both hating me for what I did Y/N, and… I know I’m not pardonable, I just want you to understand that I regret and that no matter what happened, I’ll always be there if you need me.”

“I’ll be too Fred, trust me. But you’re right, you’re not pardonable.”

And I left without saying anything else, closed quietly the door between Fred and I, and it felt like it was the definitive end for us. 

_ _ _ 

Something like three weeks later, the situation of the wizarding world had worsened exponentially. Attacks from death eaters were getting more and more common, and this toward muggles, blood traitors and members of the Order. Two weeks ago, I had participated in my first real monitoring mission with Tonks, and that had made me a veritable member of the Order with all the dangers that it implied. My relationship with Fred had become a bit better after our conversation at the Burrow and he had been the first to show worry about me. An hour or so before my departure for the mission with Tonks, he had left the shop to find me and tell me to keep the Dumbledore’s Army galleon so that he could know if I was in trouble. I had accepted because I wanted him to leave but with time, I had concluded that having it with me was reassuring. I would have never admitted it in front of him though. 

A few days ago, Fred had invited me for a special evening at the shop that was organized for the presentation of a new product. He had refused to tell me anything about it and had assured me I would find it hilarious. I wanted to go but the thought of spending an evening with him still made me uncomfortable. Finally, I had accepted on the condition that Ginny was coming with me. 

The first thought that crossed my head when I apparated in Diagon Alley is that never in my life would I have thought it possible to see it so empty, so lifeless. Almost all the boutiques I had visited so many times were closed, some because the owner had stopped their activity for a question of security and others because of much darker reasons. My eyes found the only bright light of the alley and I picked up the pace to reach the twins’ shop quicker. All the customers were hurrying inside, they probably felt as oppressed as I did. 

“Here you are!” exclaimed Ginny when I reached the door. “I was beginning to think you had changed your mind. Glad you didn’t though, George told me what the new product is and it really seems fun.”

I hummed absent-mindedly as my eyes left the floor to wander around me. Trying to convince myself I wasn’t looking for Fred would have been stupid and a loss of time, so I just grumbled once more at my weakness and asked Ginny where her brother was. 

“Probably in the back shop preparing his grand entrance. Come on, let’s get closer to the stage.”

If she didn’t make any comment, I didn’t miss her smirk as she grabbed my hand to drag me through the crowd of customers. We finally reached the stage that was occupying all the space in this part of the shop, and I found an empty spot somewhere on the left. On the stage was a huge white cover that was hiding what looked like a board and a table one behind the other, and I barely had the time to think that it was a very simple installation before the twins made their appearance. Everyone cheered and especially the younger ones and Ginny. For my part, I adopted a small smile that widened when Fred winked at me - against my will, I promise. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” began Fred. 

“Dear customers,” continued George. 

“Let us present to you our latest product.”

“It is the result of a long work of research and development-”

“And your future darling, it’s a promise.”

George waved his wand and the cover disappeared. 

At first, the silence seemed very heavy, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell had happened in their heads to create such a thing in times like these. Then, a kid in the audience giggled, and it seemed to relax everyone; laughter burst and some were already shaking their wallet. Ginny was applauding and shaking her head. The twins’ smiles widened and they got off of the platform to reach out to their customers. 

It was fun indeed, but I couldn’t help but wonder if they truly measured the impact of what they had just done. 

_ _ _ 

“U-no-poo Fred? Really?”

Fred giggled as if I had just told him a very good joke he had never heard before. 

“You have to admit that’s pretty clever!”

“That’s not clever, that’s stupid and not fun at all and- and that’s dangerous Fred!”

His gaze softened, but he didn’t let go of that cocky smirk. 

“Y/N, would you happen to be worried?”

“No, I was just thinking your instinct for survival was better than that.” My averted eyes didn’t mislead anyone though. “I don’t want you to get in trouble for this Fred, that’s all.”

“I won’t, don’t worry.” He hesitated for a second, and our eyes fell on the hand he had lifted and stopped above my shoulder. I didn’t say anything and he squeezed it gently. “These laughter earlier, that’s why we’re taking the risk. You have your way to fight the darkness, I have mine, that’s all.” I didn’t find anything to reply to that. “You know, I didn’t think you would come tonight, even Ginny was doubtful. And given the look on your face when I told you about it I thought you would refuse, really.” Fred paused and his fingers clenched lightly against my shoulder once more. “Why did you decide otherwise?”

That was a good question. Why? I had spent the last few days trying to figure out why the first answer in my head had been immediate and positive, why my heart had first beaten like crazy at the thought of seeing Fred again instead of aching as it used to, why I couldn’t hate him as much as I thought I did, as much as I thought I had to. Suddenly, some customer’s shoulder collided with my back with enough strength to make me lose my balance. The position we ended up in felt natural, as if Fred’s torso had always been there for me to rest my head on it and his hands were meant to be on my back. 

“I had missed this.” I murmured, and I felt his agreement through the vibrating of his body. 

I timidly encircled him with my own arms, and the feeling was so unhoped for, I had craved it for so long, that I found myself unable to move away from him. The more time passed by and the tighter our embrace was until it became almost difficult to breathe. 

“Maybe I should…” muttered Fred before loosening his hold, but without letting go of me. “Never again,” he added with a smile, and it didn’t take long for me to realize what it meant. “I’m not leaving you again.”

And as cliché as it could sound, I read the truth in his eyes. The pain, the regrets, the way he had been hating himself everyday for what he had done, but also comprehension because he knew I had been feeling the same. The Weasley sparkle was here too, bright and vivid and loving, and his smile was wider than every smile I had ever seen. I was probably looking the same, and if I wasn’t, I was definitely experiencing this euphoria that was shaking every cell of my body and making my heart beat so fast. 

“I really want to kiss you right now.” Fred’s voice was low, but it was the only thing I heard.

“Do it then.”

“Let me finish darling. I want to kiss you so bad, but I don’t deserve it, not after what I did to you. Give me some time to earn it, okay? We’ll make it work again, I’ll make it work again.”

I nodded, torn by two completely opposite emotions. I was grateful because Fred wanted us to become a loving couple again, and disappointed because I needed him, so much that it hurt. But after all this time, it wouldn’t have felt right, and after all maybe it was for the best. Suddenly, I became aware again of the noise in the shop: dozens of customers were still talking happily about their purchase and congratulating George.

“I should go back home. It’s… It’s a lot to take in.”

“I know, don’t worry.” Fred smiled and kissed my hair. I gave him my back and took barely two steps toward the door before he grabbed my hand. “Wait Y/N, I’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home. It’s dangerous outside and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“You shouldn’t leave your little party, Freddie. Don’t worry for me, I’ll apparate as soon as I can, okay?”

“You have the galleon, right?”

“Yes Fred, I have it, and yes I’ll warn you when I’m home.” 

He nodded and let go of my hand. I sneaked through the crowd of customers and reached the door. I was on the verge of opening it when Fred’s voice echoed. 

“Are you going to leave without a U-no-poo Y/N?”

“Who told you I needed one?”

Fred chuckled, and I only looked away when the door closed. The alley was still somber, and the same dying feeling was floating in the air, but my heart was lighter than it had been in months. I was so happy that nothing could have tarnished my joy, or so I thought. 

It’s my training as a new Order member that kicked in and made me dodge the first curse. As the only remaining window of Ollivander’s shop exploded, two dark silhouettes made their appearance between the twins’ shop and I, making it impossible for me to reach any safe place on this side of the alley. What I feared was confirmed when at least two other death eaters’ feet hit the paving stones. 

All of this had happened in a second, and I reached for the magical galleon in my pocket before anything else. An instant later, I was forced to dive to the ground with my hand still stuck in my jeans. I got up quickly and drew my wand. It was too late. Something burnt my back with such intensity that the heat spread to the core of my body. Through the excruciating pain, my dizzy brain noticed that there wasn’t a sound that left my mouth, and soon my knees hit the ground. My arms refused to obey and I found myself falling forward without anything to shield my head. The shock was brutal as the rest of the scene. The death eaters left without anything else, word or curse, and soon the noise made by their footsteps disappeared. It felt like an eternity before someone else arrived whereas it had probably been less than two minutes. Time definitely seemed to stop when I realized it was Fred. 

“Y/N, what’s- oh god, Y/N, can you hear me? Please tell me you’re still with me… Y/N!”

His arms slipped underneath my limp body. Even the heat he gave me as he was hugging me against his torso wasn’t enough to dissipate the icy cold in my bones. He was calling for help, desperate to be heard as it seemed like we were both glued to the paving stones. 

“Please Y/N, tell me- tell me I’m dreaming. This- This is all in my head, it’s all happening in my head...  Right? Y/N, say something, please!” I wished I could have reassured him, but my strength was leaving me. “I still have to gain back your love, Y/N you can’t leave me… You can’t…” 

Fred was almost sobbing now, shouting to whatever cruel god was watching him that he couldn’t live without me, screaming pleas and crying at this unfairness. His arms were still holding me, and even this feeling was slowly vanishing; soon, I wondered if I had ever felt it and the only answer I could get was the aching in my body that had nothing to do with the curse. 

Death wasn’t that bad, after all, less painful than life, and I wished Fred could read it in my mind.

#rach's1kcelebration #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #tw death

[whump-tr0pes]

I need to gush about Honor Bound for a bit, I apologize for how long this might get, but I figured it can’t be too wrong to show gratitude for something you hold dear! I found Honor Bound through the “Bleeding through the Bandages” chapter in book 4. I got into whump around that time, mainly as a coping mechanism for my own pain, and I saw that chapter pop up on my dashboard and I didn’t really consider it was part of a bigger story and I needed a distraction so I was like, might as well. And then it ended up being the best depiction of what I was feeling that I’ve ever read; not just the pain, but the frustration, and the exhaustion, and the mind-numbing boredom shown in other chapters too. I read the previous chapters of book 4 and then decided I wanted Context and also More Sam and then I read the first three books in two days. And then I reread them all in one day because I needed to reprocess the journey that was. And then I reread all of them again with book 4 when it finished, and then religiously followed book 5 through the worst time I’ve ever had, and reread the previous books multiple times as 5 was updating as well. Needless to say it quickly became my comfort series, and on multiple occasions waiting for a new chapters was one of those little joys that kept me going. I am so, so thankful I found it when I did. The Honor Bound family is like no other found family, at least to me. All of them are such complex individuals, but their interpersonal relationships are just so deep and meaningful and each is so incredibly unique, I could honestly write essays upon essays analyzing each one. And the way you connect everything and weave tropes into the overarching plot is just Insane, it’s truly like you’re… retelling a story that actually happened, you know? Like these are real people and real stories. Because I can’t com prehend how you come up with some of this stuff. And there are so, so many “cinematic” moments that are just. So raw and hard-hitting and just stay with you. Big and small moments alike. The Ryan reveal, Joseph Stormbeck’s death (best death scene ever by the way?? I’ve told everyone I know about it when I read it I was absolutely in Awe. Never recovering from that), every moment between Sam and Isaac (I also have a sibling who I’m not technically related to by blood but would like, probably die for, so I just really appreciated everything about them and we need more stories like theirs) (and also every time Sam called Isaac out. Good for them), Sam talking Gavin through his caning holy shit that was a religious moment, Gray’s slowburn adoption of Gavin and when Gavin decided he wanted to be a Uriah (and how his initial thought to getting asked what he wants to be called was “Moore”. And then he was like “Well fuck.” Love that dumbass), just every single thing Finn ever did for the family, Finn and Ellis and Gavin’s monologue about giving Finn a concussion (!! chills!!) and their reunion after Coleen, Vera and Tori and the Work Song scene??, Vera and Tori lowkey adopting Edrissa and Edrissa’s character development and her rants about pretty things and her and Sam and Zachariah’s adorable Young Love that made me so giddy right along with them and Sam and Zachariah’s meet-ugly (I mean it was kinda sweet), Gray being the parental figure we all needed, and Nata and Zelda and Nata helping Sam (and now Gavin!!) and Vera being so proud of her puppy. Also, Isaac and Gavin’s relationship…Insane. The most dramatic enemies to lovers and I love them for it. Invented love. It’s so crazy to read the beginning and see how far everyone’s come and think about everything that has happened from that one Whumptober prompt. It’s a lot but it also makes so, so much sense. I can’t imagine a version where Isaac and Gavin aren’t together in some way (and since I started out of order, when I realized it was a enemies to lovers I was really excited to see how all of that happened. Especially after reading the first book, because it (1/2)

(2/2) was like, how the hell are they gonna get from point A to point B. No way those are the same characters, how is this ever going to get justified? And then Gavin ended up having the best character development Ever, and I love that, I love that he had to work for it and that we as the readers have to work to love him too, because it pays off). And now the ending of book 5! Oh God. On that note, you’re so good at writing villains; making them human and also absolutely detestable and killing them off in the most satisfactory way tailored to them. There was never a point after a major arc where I thought “oh, I wish this had happened instead of x, I wish this had gone this way instead”. Also, to go back on the topic of pain (physical and mental both)! The way everyone copes with it differently, it’s the same thing but it’s unique to the person dealing with it and that’s so clear in your characters, and I also love, love how you made a point of showing how pain changes people because that’s something that I find so often gets ignored, whether voluntarily or not, even in whump. But, yeah, pain definitely changes people. And that’s not always bad, and it’s not always drastic, but it happens and it’s not a shameful thing. Everyone breaks. And HB made me believe that I was allowed to break, and that it’s still possible to live a life you think is worth it. And I won’t even get into how much it’d taught me about friendship and family and how it made me reflect on my own relationships with my loved ones (especially Isaac’s perspective, oh God). It’s just such a rewarding journey. That’s the best word to describe it, I think. And this latest chapter: “The sun shone brightly on the hood of the car, so bright Isaac almost had to close his eyes. The wind moved through the trees that swayed on either side of the lane. Isaac rolled his window down, and he could hear the birds calling to each other, and the sound of the wind rustling the long grasses that smelled so green. With each heartbeat, Gavin relaxed in his arms, his head falling against Isaac’s shoulder, his breaths becoming deep and slow again. A tear rolled down Isaac’s cheek, and he hid his smile against Gavin’s hair.” That image. It’s so vivid and visceral. It gives me the exact same feeling as spring after a long winter (which is…super fitting, actually). It’s that moment of pure contentedness when you realize it’d all been worth it. I don’t know, it just really, really struck me, and I’m so glad the book ended on that note. Despite knowing more hurt awaits, even that feels okay, because happiness will always find a way to seep through. And God, do they deserve that! It’s gonna be heartbreaking when their story ends, but I also know it’s gonna feel right. Like a peaceful retirement. Just, thank you for sharing this world with us, Athena. I hope you’re aware how meaningful this story is to so many of us. And being able to follow it in real-time and hear your inputs and chat about the characters and scream in the comments and reblogs is such a privilege (and being able to read it for free at all? Five books (six counting Vera)! For free! Though I will be getting books 1 and 2 soon hopefully actually). I cannot wait for book 6 and I Will be crying about book 5 until then (and long afterwards, most likely). And I wish you all the best in everything you take on next.<3

Wow, I... wow. I had to set down my phone and just sit in silence after I read this. I’m just... so humbled and amazed that you were able to connect so much with the story and the characters. I’m so glad that you saw something of yourself, and that you were able to find comfort in it. I find comfort in them, too, just knowing that the characters are there when I need to write them. 

It’s important to me for things to turn out ‘right.’ That’s part of why I write whump: the bad guys can be defeated, the good guys emerge safe, and love prevails. Writing Isaac and Gavin’s love story was absolutely the biggest surprise for me, it really did feel like I was the last to know. But I treasure them both so much and I love writing them. The family is so fun to explore, with each relationship being so different from the other. I’ve poured so much of myself into this story and into every single one of the characters. 

Book 6 is going to be such a challenge. It’s the last book in the series, and the one that’ll (hopefully) tie everything together. I’m giving myself a little break, but I’m also a little scared to start it because once I start it, then each chapter will be closer to the end, and then it’ll be over. I have a few more things in store for the family but at the end, I hope they’re safe, happy, and together. These characters mean more to me than I can say and I’m so happy I’ll have you with me along the way.

[interrogatethecat]

Of Husbands and Murder

word count: 3k

written for the prompt “Noir” for Their Love Was Real

Dean had a great life.

He worked as a mechanic during the day, and he loved his job. Every evening, he came home to his husband. Said husband made some fucking awesome pie. On weekends, he played DnD with his best friend. His brother called him at least once a week from college.

And, of course, he was a serial killer.

Late at night, sometimes Dean would get an itch that he had to scratch. A thirst that couldn’t be quenched. Nothing else did it. The only thing that sated it were the pained screams of whoever he had tied to his chair and the blood that spilled across the warehouse floor. The only thing that truly satisfied him was cleaning up after, seeing the flecks of blood mixed in with his freckles, and the dangerous glint in his eyes.

When he got home and the itch was scratched, he’d crawl back into bed, and in the morning, Cas would be none the wiser that he had ever been gone, and life continued.

Change someone’s oil. Fix the brakes on a Toyota. Come home covered in grease. Take a shower. Steal kisses from his husband. Hang out with Charlie on weekends. Jokingly remind Sam not to go to any keggers. Off someone. Repeat. Such was the life of Dean Winchester.

This time, the itch came in the middle of January.

the rest + tag list below the cut, or on a03 here.

Like most November days, it was blustery and cold. Dean liked it that way. If someone off the streets went missing, well, it would be assumed that they froze to death. Days would pass before the body would be found, marked and warranting a front page headline. Easier for him.

“Boy! You got any spark plugs there?”

“Uh….” Dean glanced around the area where he was working. “Nope. Sorry, Bobby.”

“Balls. We’re out.”

“What do you need them for?” Dean asked, turning back to the engine he was working with. “Someone need theirs replaced?”

Bobby leveled him with a glare from beneath his baseball cap. “No, I wanna turn ‘em into a necklace. Yes, a customer needs them.”

Dean raised his hands in surrender. “Woah. Didn’t know if you were just asking for inventory.”

“Since when do I do inventory? That’s Kevin’s job. He’s got exams, though, so he’s preoccupied at the moment.”

“He didn’t leave a list?”

Bobby huffed. “He did, but I can’t read it.”

Dean straightened up, wiping his hands on a towel. “Here, let me see.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow at him. “You think you can crack it.”

“How hard can it be?” Dean scoffed. “I had to read Sammy’s handwriting for years, I think I can manage Kev’s.”

Bobby grumbled something under his breath, moving towards his office.

Dean watched him disappear behind a large truck. When he was alone, the thirst came back, more persistent than it had been.

Tonight, Dean figured. He’d take care of it tonight. Just a few more hours of his shift, he’d see Cas, then he’d grab someone off the streets and parch his thirst.

Bobby came back and shoved a notebook into Dean’s hands. “Still think you can read it?”

Dean squinted at the— was that even writing? “The hell?”

“Exactly,” Bobby said.

“That’s not writing, it’s chicken scratch,” Dean said, shoving the notebook back at him. “Tell Kevin to type his notes instead.”

The day continued. Dean fixed a set of taillights on a pickup truck, changed the oil on a Honda, had to deal with the broken brakes on a Prius. By the time his shift was over, he was covered head to toe in grease. Just another day on the job.

After toweling the worst of it off, Dean gave Bobby a wave and made his way outside.

Singer’s Auto and Parts consisted of a large, out of the way garage that connected to a small room Bobby used as his office, a large parking lot out back for the cars they were fixing up, and a cracked stretch of asphalt where the employees parked. Not the most glamorous, but then again, neither was Dean.

He ducked into the Impala, the corner of his mouth turning up as her engine rumbled. The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant oranges, inky purples, and all the shades in between. Rush hour had just ended, leaving the streets emptying of cars but not deserted. Led Zeppelin blaring, Dean pulled out onto the road, headed for home.

He missed every red light, and within fifteen minutes, was pulling into the driveway and parking the car.

Cas was already inside, curled up on the couch, papers spread out on the coffee table in front of him. He looked up when Dean came in and smiled. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean smiled back. “Hey, Cas. ‘Nother essay?”

Cas shook his head. “Creative writing. Some of them are very good. Actually, I’m rather impressed by a number of them. This one, on the other hand….”

“Well, lemme take a shower, and then I’ll rescue you. Deal?”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Cas said. “Please, hurry.”

Dean mock saluted. “Yes, sir.”

Cas rolled his eyes.

As promised, the shower was quick, and in no time, Dean had shifted Cas’ papers aside and thrown himself down on the couch next to him. He dropped a kiss on the top of Cas’ head and threw an arm around him.

Cas leaned against him, head settling against Dean’s shoulder. “Marie is an excellent student,” he said, “and very creative, but I fail to understand her obsession with robots, ninjas, and ‘subtext.’”

Dean huffed a laugh. “‘Course you don’t.”

Cas looked away from his paper to glare at him.

Dean laughed harder. “It’s cute, Cas.”

The glare didn’t cease. “I don’t want to be cute. I’m not cute.”

“Whatever gets you through the night,” Dean said.

“You're insufferable,” Cas said.

“You love me anyway.”

“Yes.”

Dean grinned. “Love you, too.”

The itch squirmed beneath his skin, in his very bones. It was always better, more under control around Cas, but never gone.

He had to keep the night moving. As much as he loved this time with his husband, the itch was there and needed scratching. He needed to make someone bleed, needed to hurt, to kill. None of which would happen while Cas was still awake.

“So,” Dean said, “how do you feel about takeout for tonight? Because I really don’t wanna cook anything, and it’s kinda late.”

Cas nodded. “Chinese?”

“Sounds good. Want me to order?”

“As long as you don’t ‘forget’ to order stir fry or something else with vegetables.”

Dean groaned as he stood up. “Why the hell would you want vegetables?”

“Because they’re good.”

This time, Dean was the one to roll his eyes. “Fine. You owe me, though.”

Cas smirked triumphantly for the remainder of the night. It was especially wide when Dean actually ate the stir fry.

Not that Dean would ever admit it, but it was actually pretty good. Maybe a little more than pretty good.

By the time he and Cas were in bed, it was nearing ten o’clock. Surprisingly early. Cas seemed to have wanted to get into bed as well, which was unusual. When Dean asked him about it, he just shrugged it off and said, “I’ve been working since five o’clock this morning, I think I deserve a break.”

Dean pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Sure thing, angel.”

Something flashed briefly in Cas’ eyes, there and gone too quickly for Dean to dissect.

They crawled into bed, Dean curled protectively around Cas, listening to Cas’ breathing even out. Cas was so peaceful like this. Any other night, Dean would have stayed awake, kept watching him until he drifted off. Taking in every bit of Cas he could. But tonight….

As gently as he could, Dean extracted himself from around Cas, taking care not to disturb him. The bed creaked as he stood up, but there wasn’t any other movement. Good.

He crept through the house quietly, grabbing the keys off the counter, wincing when the door squeaked on his way out.

This time when Dean drove, there was no music. Just him, his car, the road, and the itch, the desire, the need. Clawing its way out from his core, begging for blood and screams. Just one person. That was all he needed. A person and a knife, and it would be dealt with. His knives had been left there. Now, all he needed was a guest.

There was a homeless person, dumpster diving in an alley that Dean saw halfway into the city. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen. His oversized coat was dirty, and his face smudged with grime. He was no one.

Perfect.

The Impala slowed and stopped on the side of the road.

“Need a lift?”

The kid looked up.

“I’ve also got a spare room, if you need it,” Dean added.

The kid’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Hop on in.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” the kid asked suspiciously.

Dean shrugged. “Just gonna have to.”

“What’s your name?”

“Dean,” Dean said. “You?”

“Alfie,” the kid offered.

“Well, Alfie,” Dean said, putting on his most charming smile, “I’ll ask again: need a lift?”

Alfie got into the car.

The blood pounding in Dean’s ears with need got louder as Alfie slammed the passenger door shut behind him. Giving him no time to react, Dean seized the back of his head and slammed it against the dashboard. There was a satisfying thunk, and the kid’s eyes unfocused before he passed out.

Dean hit the gas.

________________

The warehouse was on the far edge of the city, far enough out that Dean wasn’t even sure it was a part of the city.

The building was rusting and dirty and old and abandoned. A little cliché, but since when had that hurt anyone?

Dean parked the Impala behind the warehouse, then ducked outside the car. He popped open the trunk. Shuffling aside some reusable bags, Dean found his buried stash of zip ties. Pocketing a few, he slammed the trunk shut, then went around to the passenger side door.

Alfie was still out cold. He didn’t even stir when Dean picked him up bridal style and carried him into the warehouse. Didn’t move when Dean used the zip ties to tie him to a chair, or grabbed some duct tape off a bench and covered his mouth.

He probably had at least ten minutes until he would come to. Ten minutes to kill. Ten minutes to decide what he wanted to do tonight to make him scream.

Dean kept his knives by a workbench in the far corner of the main room. To the best of his knowledge, it was your standard serial killer set-up; a wide array of weapons of varying sizes, shapes, and sharpness. Above them he had hung newspaper clippings, each with a headline pertaining to him.

Body Discovered Bearing Demonic Symbol

New Body Found, Not the Work of Angel Killer

Cult in Sioux Falls?

One Wasn’t Enough: Two Serial Killers in Sioux Falls?

Serial Killer on the Loose

Sioux Falls Murderer Dubbed “Demon Killer”

Demon Kills Again

Demon and Angel Killers Strike Again

Another Body Found With Demon Mark

Two Bodies Found In One Night

Trail of Bodies Leads Nowhere

Heaven and Hell Working Together?

Theories About Angel and Demon Killers Run Rampant

Some of the most recent articles made Dean the most curious. No longer was he the only person in Sioux Falls with the extra curricular activity murder. And this someone, dubbed the Angel Killer because of their tendency to spray paint coronas over the heads of their victims, had been around since before Dean moved there. Then Dean had started offing people. There was no connection between the two of them. And then, for whatever reason, this Angel Killer had started killing on the same nights as Dean. Why was that? Accidents didn’t happen accidentally. There was something there, more to it that coincidence, Dean was sure. But what?

Alfie groaned, the sound muffled slightly by the tape.

Dean grabbed a blade off the table, then turned to look at Alfie. “Good, You’re awake.”

Alfie was still out of it, struggling to make sense of the situation. His eyes widened when he saw the knife Dean was twirling in one hand.

This knife, in particular, was one of Dean’s favorites. It had a sturdy handle, and an even hardier blade. Part of it was sharp, smooth enough to slice skin with so much of a brush, while the other part of it was serrated like the jaws of some creature, perfect for ripping and tearing away chunks of flesh. Elegant and savage, all at once.

Dean smiled at the kid dangerously. “Glad you’re up. Would’ve had to go on without you if you hadn’t woken up in the next few minutes. After this, I’ve gotta get home. Work tomorrow. Husband to get back to.”

Alfie tried to shout something.

“Not gonna work, buddy. You’re not the first one to try.” He took a few steps closer, then used the tip of the blade to force up Alfie’s chin. “So,” Dean said, “ready to have some fun?”

There was a strangled sob as Dean lightly dragged the tip of the knife down Alfie’s throat, stopping when he reached his clavicle. With a swift motion, he sliced open the front of the kid’s jacket and shirt, exposing the upper part of his chest. It rose and fell rapidly, nothing like the calm inhales and exhales of Cas falling asleep. While that made something inside him flare warmly, this— the raw, unfiltered panic— filled him with satisfaction.

Dean smiled as he made his first incisions into the kid, felt more and more alive with each scream. Happily watched the blood drip to the floor, pool around the chair as he carved. This wasn’t his most precise work, but he only had a little while before he had to be back in bed. It didn’t matter that it was sloppy; it did the job.

Only after his chest and face had been completely mangled did Dean roll up the kid’s sleeve. With steady hands, he carved his signature into Alfie’s forearm, a seven-like shape that dug into the flesh. Dean took pleasure in the kid's heaving chest, reveled in knowing that his lungs weren’t getting enough air.

“Thanks, kid.” Dean grinned at him as he made the final line of the design, then drove the knife into his chest.

Alfie gargled wetly, then—

Nothing.

His body sagged in the chair, bound and bloody and lifeless.

The itch was gone.

Dean admired his work for a few moments, then pivoted to grab a cloth from his workbench to clean the blood off his knife. As he was wiping it down, there was a voice from behind him.

“So you’re the Demon Killer.”

Dean froze. He knew that voice.

“I always wondered what you did when you disappeared,” Cas said.

Dean turned around.

Cas was standing on the other side of the chair. He looked incredibly out of place amongst the carnage; he was still wearing his ridiculous bee pajamas, only with his trench coat thrown over them. His attention was turned to Alfie’s corpse. “You know what you’re doing,” Cas noted, as though this was a perfectly normal conversation. “It’s quite impressive. I should have expected as much, given your skills in the kitchen.”

“What are you doing here?” Dean demanded.

Cas finally looked at him, his expression one of interest. “I thought I said that. I wanted to know what you did when you left at night,” he said simply. “This isn’t what I expected, but… you always are full of surprises.”

“Why now?”

“Curiosity finally got the better of me. I figured I could hold off on my plans for a few weeks longer.”

The gears in Dean’s head started turning. “Your… plans?” Dean said slowly.

Cas nodded. His eyes flickered behind Dean, to the newspaper articles.

Dean shook his head as he connected the dots. “No way,” he said. “Absolutely not. You’re not— you can’t be—“

“The so-called ‘Angel Killer?’” Cas asked.

If Dean hadn’t been struggling to process, he would have rolled his eyes at Cas’ finger quotes.

“Yes,” Cas said matter-of-factly. “I believe that’s what they call me.”

“No,” Dean said insistently. “You— there’s no way you’re a serial killer!”

“What makes you think that?” Cas seemed genuinely curious.

“You're an English teacher!”

Cas fixed him with a look. “You’re a mechanic.”

Dean stared at him incredulously. “This is not happening.”

“I can assure you it is,” Cas said.

“Prove it,” Dean said.

Cas’ eyes glinted at the challenge. In a few strides, he was in Dean’s space, pressing their lips together.

Oh. Shit.

This was definitely happening.

When they broke apart, there was some blood smeared on Cas’ face. A smile was beginning to form, his mouth quirking upwards. “Was that enough proof?”

Dean nodded. He reached out and tried to wipe off some of the blood that had gotten on Cas’ face with his thumb, only succeeding in streaking it more.

They stood there for a few moments silently.

At last, Dean spoke.

“Cas,” he said, licking his lips, “you’re even more of a badass than I thought you were.”

“I know,” Cas said. “The same goes for you.”

“How long?”

Cas didn’t need him to specify. He considered it for a few seconds. “Years. Just a few before I met you.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Uh, I started not long before I came to Sioux Falls, but….”

They fell quiet again.

“I’m sensing awkwardness,” Cas said.

That was so incredibly Cas that Dean had to laugh, the tension broken. “Keen observation, Sherlock.” And then, as though he’d said it a hundred times, “Help me with the body?”

Cas’ smile widened. “I thought you’d never ask.”

One body-disposal and a drive home later, Dean was laying in bed, curled around Cas. He smiled into the back of Cas’ neck. Yeah. He had a great life.

He worked as a mechanic during the day, and he loved his job. On weekends, he played DnD with his best friend. His brother called him at least once a week from college.

Every day, he came home to his husband. Said husband made some fucking awesome pie.

And, of course, he was a serial killer.

tag list: @theirlovewasreal @holmesemrys @fanfic-corner @lovingherwasgay @destiel-is-canon-i-guess @top13zepptraxx @i-do-know-and-idc

let me know if you want to be added or removed!

#theirlovewasreal #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural #deancas #casdean #spn #destiel is canon #my fic #destiel fanfic #spn fanfic

[maastrash]

"Just pretend to be my date "for nessian please and what did you mean by the fluff before the storm?Are you planning on breaking my heart?

The Truth Is ...

HEHE this got longer than expected! and omg dw I’ll only break it for a lil ;) Shoutout to my bff @verryberriess for helping me with this ily

Masterlist // Submit a prompt // Prompts 1 + 2 - pls write the prompt out it helps me out greatly!

Today was not Cassian’s day. All he had wanted was his favorite Starbucks cold brew so he could have the energy to study for his calculus midterm tomorrow. Math was his absolute worst subject. He could write an A worthy essay in less than an hour, but when it came to numbers he was absolutely clueless. He wanted to be in and out to give himself as much study time as possible. The gods knew he needed it, but that didn’t seem like a possibility anymore. It was just his luck that he would run into the one person he’d been trying to avoid all day - Daisy Anderson. She had been talking his ear off for the past 15 minutes, despite him saying that he had somewhere to be. She was a member of the most popular sorority at university, Alpha Phi, and had been pretty much obsessed with Cassian for the past week. He had met her at his frat party and it was clear she wanted him to ask her to be his date to the spring formal. Alpha Phi and his frat Sigma Chi were always paired for events so he was doing his best to turn her down easy. He really didn’t need awkward encounters with her at every greek life gathering. 

After another 5 minutes passed Cassian seriously didn’t know if she truly wasn’t getting the hint that he wasn’t interested or if she just didn’t care. He gave the minimum responses necessary, avoided eye contact, and kept trying to leave, unsuccessfully of course. Every time he tried,  Daisy would grab his arm or suddenly step in front of him. Apparently, there was another party tonight and she was desperately trying to convince him to go. Even if he had been free, Cassian didn’t really feel like getting to know Daisy. There was someone else who occupied his thoughts. Someone who would never like him back, but that didn’t stop him from hoping. 

Cassian was really starting to lose his patience. Just as he about to firmly tell her he was not interested, he saw her. Nesta Archeron. Her honey brown hair was loose, flowing just past her shoulders. She was wearing a navy cropped hoodie and black jeans that hugged her body perfectly. Damn. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Before Cassian even knew what he was doing, he was up, moving, and blocking her path. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he said, pulling her into a hug.

Nesta tensed for a second before relaxing into the embrace. She hesitantly wrapped her small arms around his waist. She seemed confused, he couldn’t blame her. 

“I need you to pretend to be my date,” he whispered into her ear, as subtly as he could manage. 

“What?” she asked, pulling away.

Before she could get too far, he pulled her back in gently. “Please go along with this.” He was practically begging at this point.

Nesta nodded slightly, probably due to the pure desperation in his voice. They separated and Cassian put his arm around Nesta’s waist. “I’m so sorry Daisy, but this is my lovely date, Nesta. We’ve been seeing each other recently and it seems she came to find me after I didn’t show up.”

Daisy looked Nesta up and down, looking almost unimpressed. Cassian did not like that one bit. “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize - ”

“It’s fine, but we should be going,” he said, cutting off her insincere apology. Cassian led Nesta out of the cafe with his hand on the small of her back. Once out the door, he grasped her hand gently. He told himself it was because Daisy could still see them, but deep down he knew that wasn’t the real reason. 

After walking to the end of the street Nesta pulled her hand from his. “We can stop pretending now, she can’t see us anymore.”

He nodded as he let his hand awkwardly fall to his side. “Thank you, Nesta,” he said, trying not to get lost in her piercing blue-grey eyes. “I owe you one.” 

“Whatever,” she snapped breaking eye contact and walking off.

“Wait, hold up,” Cassian ran a few steps to catch up to her. He grabbed her arm gently to keep her from running off again. “Are you mad at me?” 

“Of course I’m mad you idiot,” she pulled away from his grip again. Cassian hated to admit her rejection hurt worse than he thought it would. “I wanted to read my book in Starbucks in peace, and now I can’t.”

Cassian put his hands in his pockets, avoiding her hardened gaze. “I’m sorry Nes I’ll take you to another coffee shop and buy you a drink,” he said the words sheepishly. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Don’t call me Nes,” she grumbled. “And I think I’ll pass.”

“Ok, what’s wrong? Cassian asked, crossing his arms across his chest. “Be honest.” Nesta was never this cold to him. Maybe she was when they first met, but he thought they were past that. She had finally started to trust him enough to show him the real Nesta. The Nesta that smiled every time she saw a dog. The Nesta that saved a seat for him every Wednesday when they had chem lectures together. The Nesta that blushed when he told her how beautiful she was while making her “thinking” face. 

“Nothing,” she said, avoiding eye contact yet again. 

“I know you’re lying Nes and I’m not leaving till you tell me what’s wrong.”

“What do you want me to say Cassian?!” she asked, the frustration clear in her voice. “Fine. You really wanna know why I’m so upset? You used me. You played with my feelings. Are you happy? You finally hurt the ice queen,” 

“Nesta I-”

“No. I’m not done,” she said holding her finger up, instantly shutting him up. “I thought we were friends, maybe even more than friends,” she mumbled the last part. “But I guess I was wrong. I thought you were different. I thought you meant the things you said to me. But I guess you really are just another frat boy. A frat boy who would use me to get out of some stupid failed date with a popular sorority girl.”

Cassian was silent as Nesta caught her breath after her sudden outburst. “Can I talk now?” he asked hesitantly. She nodded, her jaw tight.

“Nesta I ran into Daisy and had been trying to get away from her so I could study for my midterm tomorrow. You came at just the right time. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I haven’t been playing you,” he paused, reading her reaction. She didn’t seem convinced.

Before he could regret it, Cassian laid it all out on the table. “The truth is, I am utterly captivated by you, Nesta Archeron. I haven’t thought about another girl since I met you. You are the smartest, fiercest, and strongest girl I have ever met and I can’t get you out of my head. I never thought you’d like me back so I settled for just being friends. I thought it was better than nothing. I asked you to pretend to be my date so I could hold your hand and hug you just once, even if it was pretending,” his voice tapered off at the end. He was suddenly self-conscious. What if he just ruined everything? Before he could think about it too long, Nesta interrupted his thoughts. 

“You really are an idiot,” she whispered softly, “because I’ve liked you this whole time too.

This had Cassian gaping. Nesta liked him. She actually liked him. “Can I buy you a coffee?” he asked, offering his hand. “Let me take you on a real date Nes.” 

Nesta took his hand offering a small smile. “Let’s take the coffee to go so I can help you study. We can go on a real date after your midterm.”

Cassian was practically beaming as he squeezed her hand gently. “Sounds like a plan.” 

After Cassian aced his midterm, he and Nesta did just that. And it was the best date either of them had ever been on. 

Tags: @illyriangarbage // @court-of-fuck-me-daddy  // @girlnovels // @aelinninielelain // @julesherondalex // @rosehallshadowsinger // @ifangirlninja // @dreamerforever-5// @queen-of-wings-and-fire // @rhysanoodle  // @jemma-nessian-and-elriel // @books-and-words-addict  // @nightinshadow // @wolffrising // @the-regal-warrior  // @dreamingofalba // @abillionlittlepieces // @alitzeldiaz // @kylizzles // @queenmaas //  @illyrian-bookworm // @aspillofstars // @b00kworm // @tswaney17 // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn // @abraxos // @perseusannabeth // @acourtofmarauders // @sweetlyvillainous // @awesomelena555 // @notyournymphetish // @ladywitchling // @aesthetics-11 // @sjmships // @iammissstark // @illyrianwitchling13 // @moondancer-204 // @sjm-things // @foolsinlove // @sayosdreams // @welcometothespeaknowworldtour // @flourishandblottsx // @stardelia // @julemmaes // @thewayshedreamed // @texas-shaped-waffle-maker // @keshavomit //

#nessian #request #car writes #car answers #nesta x cassian

[fearfulkittenwrites]

“Are you awake?” and “I... I want a hug.”

Summary: Damian has been getting bullied by his classmates for a while now. When he finally reaches a breaking point, the boy tells Dick what happened, and his older brother gets mad. He can't believe Damian, the boy he loves so much, the boy he helped raising, is going through the exact same thing he had to endure years ago, in the same school. You'd think the problem would be solved by now.

Word Count: 4951

Warning! There’s some racism expressed in this work! (I didn’t want to put it in the tags because I think it would be rude to put fanfic on a tag that is mostly used for more important things, so I thought it best to let you know here)

Notes: Hello! This work has been beta'd by @3ambird​ ​, I don't know how you make time to help me, but I'm so glad you do!! Thank you. Also, if you haven't checked out their works, please do. Their recent fanfic is Dick Grayson centric and it made me cry. One of my favorite works ever.

(Also, to the anon who requested the “I want a hug” prompt with Dick and Bruce, I’m not ignoring you! It should be the one up next, okay? I just had this one sitting on my computer for a while, so I had to post it first, hahahaha!)

Damian took a deep breath. Mathematics was always the worst class of the day. He took his seat, middle row, third chair. The classroom was filling up, and there was no one behind him yet. That gave him a couple of minutes to close his eyes and try to gather his strength.

The problem wasn’t the subject. Damian already knew all that he was being forced to re-learn, making all of his classes nothing but a nuisance. The problem had a first and a last name: Warren Pruitt.

Damian felt his desk being roughly pushed, and opened his eyes.

“What? Did I disturb your prayers?” Warren smirked.

“Fuck off.” Damian answered. He felt his stomach twist, wishing he could solve this like he solved things as Robin.

Warren took his seat behind him, purposefully shoving his desk against the back of Damian’s chair.

“Refrain from doing that, Pruitt.”

“Or what? You’ll blow up the school?” His little clique laughed loudly, making explosion sounds in the back “Allahu akbar! Ha ha ha!”

“You can’t even be racist properly.” Damian rolled his eyes. “I’m not Muslim, you idiotic naked ape.” Another shove sent his chair inches forward, pressing his stomach against his desk. He pushed back, and was shoved forward again “Stop it.” He gritted his teeth.

“Shut up, Al Ghul.” Warren sneered, a cruel smile on his lips.

Damian had never felt any embarrassment towards his heritage. He took pride in both of his last names, the signs of two powerful dynasties that had combined to create him. He was a symbol of strength because of them, and he was proud of it. But the way it was said, like it was an insult, like it was tainted, like it made him lesser, left a bitter taste in Damian’s mouth, so he corrected the boy.

“Wayne.” He growled “My last name is Wayne.”

“We’ve been over this already, Al Ghul.” One of Warren’s pack of imbeciles spat as Warren leaned forward against his desk, pushing Damian’s stomach into the wood, hurting him.

“Yeah, we have.” Another boy, Charles Du Pont encouraged, watching from the desk to Damian’s left. Damian gritted his teeth.

“You can try all you want, but you’ll never be anything more than the arab boy you are. You’re lucky your father is enough of a moron to let you in.” A fourth kid - Michael Chase, Damina’s mind supplied - leaned in, mocking him.

“Yeah. My dad said he’d throw you on the streets, let you rot in one of Gotham’s orphanages. It’s what you deserve for trying to take our places.” Warren said.

The bell signaling the classes beginning rang, right as the teacher walked in.

.................................

The words kept ringing in Damian’s ears for the rest of the day. He doesn’t know why, but he can never find the proper words to shoot back at them. And he doesn’t know why it all bothers him so much.

Going back home, Damian threw his backpack into his bedroom and walked through the halls, stopping when he saw Tim’s open door, both him and Duke reading through an essay.

“-tt-” Damian clicked his tongue from the door “Can’t do your own papers by yourself, Drake?”

“Shut up, brat.” Tim answered.

“Whatever. Where is Grayson?”

“Sleeping.” Tim answered “Why, what do you want?”

“It’s none of your business Drake.” He crossed his arms, leaving and continuing down the hall.

He rubbed away some tears forming in his eyes. Of course Dick would still be sleeping, he was on patrol until the sun had risen. Slowly, he creaked open his brother’s bedroom door.

“Are you awake?” He whispered.

“Hm...” Dick murmured “Dami?” He lifted his face from the pillow to look at the boy. Damian’s eyes landed on a noticeable bruise on his cheekbone “What’s wrong?” He slowly sat up, noticing the look on his baby brother’s face.

“Nothing.” Damian answered, swiping away more tears.

“Liar.” Dick accused, smiling “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Damian removed his school blazer, hanging it on Dick’s chair as he kicked off his shoes.

“Don’t get up. You need to sleep.” Damian said. Dick frowned, laying back down.

“Okay.” He started, carefully “But what’s going on little d? What do you need?”

“I...” He tried, but his voice cracked as he sat on the bed.

“It’s okay.” Dick whispered, stroking his back “What do you want me to do, Dami?”

“I... I want a hug.” He laid down next to his brother, who pulled him close to his body.

Dick felt him sobbing against his chest, and kissed Damian’s hair, holding him tightly.

“What happened, hm?” Dick whispered gently against his head “What’s going on?”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now. I just want to sleep for a while.” The boy whispered back, placing his hand on top of his brother’s.

“Okay.” Dick answered “We can do that.”

“Thank you.”

Damian noticed how much bigger his brother’s hands were when compared to his. Part of it was due to the amount of punches he had thrown in his life, making the bones spread apart, giving it a wider aspect. Part of it was due to the fact that Damian was still a child. He noticed how both of their hands were calloused and rough, but still in infinitely different ways. His hands had been marked by the sword, while his brother’s were shaped by his escrima sticks and the bars of the circus.

Truth is, Damian focused so much on his hands because the size comparison made him feel safe. Above all, having something to focus on helped him fall asleep faster. Dick was already used to the feeling of small fingers moving his hand around, counting scars and feeling bumps, until both of them drifted off.

About an hour later, Dick woke up to the feeling of his brother moving around the bed, awake too.

“Hey.” He smiled, stretching “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.” Damian answered, staring at the ceiling. His face was smashed, hair a mess, and his button up shirt had creases everywhere. Dick played with his brother’s hair as he blinked slowly “That feels nice.”

“Yeah.” Dick chuckled “Listen Dames, I need to grab some food. Come with me?” Damian nodded in response, and both of them got on their feets and walked to the kitchen.

Dick looked through the cabinets for something to eat. Damian pulled a post-it off the fridge door.

“Pennyworth left you a sandwich.” He grabbed it, handing it to his hungry brother.

“Sweet!” He exclaimed “Alfie really is a life saver. Want some?”

“No, thank you.” Damian refused. They sat across each other at a table.

“So... Want to talk now?” Dick asked. The boy remained silent “C’mon Dami. You know I’m here for you, right? You can trust me.”

Damian hid his face in his hands.

“I’m ashamed.”

“Why?”

“I... I feel like a coward.” He almost growled “It’s... As if I was weak.” Tears slid down his cheeks.

“What’s going on Damian?” Dick asked again, softly.

“Promise...” He started “Promise you won’t get mad. Please.”

“Of course I won’t Dami.” His brother had soft eyes, staring at him. Damian swallowed.

“Pruitt and his group of brain dead morons.” He wiped the tears away and punched the table “I let them get to me. I don’t know how to deal with it, and that makes me weak.”

“What are they doing to you?”

“They keep... Insinuating that I’m a terrorist. Shoving my chair and telling me that...” He frowned “Telling me that father should have left me in an orphanage. Because of… My heritage.”

Dick examined him for a moment.

“Damian.” He called “Dami, look at me.” He caught his brother’s hand “This isn’t your fault. And it doesn’t make you weak. You don’t know how to deal with this because you shouldn’t have to deal with this. I need you to understand that, okay?” Damian nodded “Listen, we need to talk to your principal about this.” Damian’s eyes widened “I know. I know how it sounds, I’ve been there. But believe me, it will get better. The first step is to let people know what’s going on.”

“What is the second step?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On what will happen after the first.”

.................................

The next morning, Dick insisted on taking his brother to school. He convinced Damian to talk to Bruce about what had happened, and now both his father and brother were in the car, headed to school to talk to his principal about the bullying he had been facing.

After all the students had properly settled in their classrooms, the principal welcomed the Waynes into his office.

“Mr. Wayne! What can I do for you?” He asked, a polite smile on his face.

“Well, Mr. Jameson, I was recently made aware of some... Concerning behaviour happening on school grounds.”

“What kind of concerning behaviour, Mr. Wayne?” The principal joined his hands, portraying a curiosity Dick knew to be fake. He rolled his eyes.

“What has-”

“Racism.” Dick cut Bruce off, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair “We’ve recently found out that Damian has been dealing with racist comments and actions coming from some of his classmates.” Bruce gave him a discreet look, but didn’t say anything “What?” He whispered to his father “How long were you two planning on dancing around the topic for?”

The principal cleared his throat.

“I assure you, Mr. Grayson, I’m just as appalled by this allegation as you are.”

“Allegation my ass.” He shot back.

“Dick.” Bruce quietly warned.

“Look, the way I see this, it’s all very simple.” Dick said, palms spread on the man’s table as he spoke “I had to endure racism back in my student days, and now Damian is having to suffer through the same thing, because your administration has failed to correct this behaviour when it first happened, despite my countless cries for help during my middle and high school years.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows.

“I can’t really argue with that, Mr. Jameson.” The man brought his hands together, resting them on his lap.

“Yes, I see.” The man answered, an uncomfortable smile on as his face took on a pale tone “Uhm, why don’t you... Give me a list with the names of the children involved so we can schedule a meeting next week with the boys parents and...” He cut himself off as he looked at Bruce’s face.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jameson, but I assume you know that I run a business? And that my time is very scarce?” Bruce started “I am here now. Doesn’t that send a clear enough message of my expectations?”

“I- Uhm, yes, of course, Mr. Wayne.” He started again “If you can give me the names of the children, I’ll call their parents in immediately.”

“That’s great.” Bruce smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes “I happen to have a list with me.”

.................................

A couple of hours later, only three of the kids had their guardians present. Both the principal and Bruce decided that the fourth one could wait a day or two and that there was no real need to keep anyone waiting any longer.

“Mr. Jameson,” Angus Pruitt, the father to the blonde Warren, leader of the group, stated, as his wife held her dear boy close “What is this all about?”

“Well, you see,” The Principle said, sweating profusely. Dick could understand the nervousness, seeing the delicate audience he was speaking to, but was too angry to even try to empathize “It has come to my attention that young Mr. Pruitt, along with Mr. Du Pont and Mr. Chase,” He gestured towards the two other boys, “Have been involved in some...” The principal eyes met Dick’s enraged stare, and the man dropped his head. Bruce felt compelled to nudge his son and get him to stop “I, uhm...” He stumbled over his words.

Dick sighed and opened his mouth, too quickly for Bruce to stop.

“Your kids have been saying some pretty racist shit to my brother.” Dick said, leaning back on the wall “Now that I know who is involved with all this, can’t say I’m all that surprised.” His eyes locked with Mr. Du Pont, the man whose first son, Lawrence, was also brought in multiple times for bullying Dick back when he was in middle school.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Well, Dick and Damian seemed to be thriving in it, but everyone else was thrown off by the latest statement.

“And what exactly are you doing here, Mr. Grayson?” Mr. Du Pont said, looking into Dick’s eyes with the same cold disgust he always had “Isn’t this meeting supposed to be only with the parents and students?”

“Well, first of all, I’d like to see you try and get me out of this room.” He shot back “And second, I’m listed as one of his legal guardians, so get-”

“That’s enough, Dick.” Bruce placed a hand on his chest, stopping him.

“Is that so, Mr. Wayne?” Mr. Pruitt spoke up “Why?”

“Old money comes with old enemies.” Bruce said, arrogant posture matching the others “If anything were to happen to me, I’d rather be sure that Damian would be in good hands. Not that I’d expect you to understand the actions my kind of people take.” He said, softening the verbal aggression with a smile. Dick bit the insides of his lip to hold in his laugh “Now, shall we discuss what are the actions that this school will be taking to eradicate the racism your children so eagerly take part in?”

The principal swallowed as all eyes turned back to him.

“W-well,” He started “The first thing is...” He glanced up at Dick for a second “Appropriate punishment.” Dick smiled at the man “One week of after school detention for each of you.”

“What? That’s not fair!” The Chase kid, Michael, cried in complaint.

“Be quiet, dear.” His mother said, looking down at him.

“But I’m gonna miss my tennis tournament!” He wanted again.

“Well, maybe you should’ve thought of that before you bullied your classmate, shouldn’t you?” She replied, stern, shutting the boy up.

Dick raised an eyebrow. Maybe there was some hope for these kids after all.

“Well, I also believe this punishment seems a little unfair.” Mrs. Pruitt said, still holding her boy, who now looked like a scared mouse.

“A little unfair?” Dick started.

“Dick, please...” Bruce said, putting a hand on his son’s chest. Dick looked at him for a second as he lowered his father’s arm, and that glimpse Bruce had was enough to let him know that there was no stopping him now. Trusting his son’s judgement, he backed down.

“You wanna know what’s unfair?” He leaned over one of the desks in the room, supporting his weight on both hands “Unfair is me getting tripped on hallways and being called a circus freak. Unfair is me having to hear slurs directed at me everyday while I’m trying to learn. Unfair is the word ‘gypsy’ being carved into every single one of my seats, and spray painted on my locker, twice. Unfair, is me getting beat up behind the school dumpsters because of my non-whiteness. Unfair is the death threats I was sent every other week, telling me I don’t belong here. Unfair,” Dick stared into her eyes “Is your son getting only a week of after school detention when the shit he’s said and done could very well warrant jail time if he wasn’t a minor. So shut the fuck up about “unfair”, because they are being let off easy. The shit they’ve been pulling ruin lives. If it was up to me, they’d get so much worse.”

The room went quiet once again. Dick punched the desk lightly before moving back to his previous position.

“Now, dear Principal Jameson,” He started over “Let’s talk prevention.”

“W-What?” He whispered out.

“What do you plan on doing, moving forward, so that this kind of behaviour doesn't happen again, hm?” Dick crossed his arms, scowl on his face. The man was silent, mouth open as if he wanted to speak, but had no clue on how “No? Well, let me help.” He offered them his most plastic smile “I think...” Dick paced around “The school should provide workshops; maybe even a steady course about racism, what it looks like, how it harms people, how to fight it. Make it mandatory for every little prick that decides they can use a slur or shame a peer for their heritage or culture.”

“Bu-But the money...”

“Is not a problem.” Dick interrupted. He looked at Bruce, who had a small smirk on his face “Is it?”

“No, not at all.” Bruce said “We are more than happy to provide the needed funding, if it goes into such an important project.”

“See?” Dick smiles at the man once again “But, of course, I’m not done. I think, and I’m just spitballing here, but, maybe, we should make this an expellable offense.”

“Hey now, young man,” Mr. Du Pont started “I think you may be overreacting just a bit.”

“Do you?” Dick looked at him “Well, of course you do, you thought I overreacted about everything back in middle school. Have you ever considered that maybe you’re simply underreacting?” Dick’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips. He had a room full of rich adults nervous. He was enjoying this a little too much “But relax, I’m not saying your little brats should be expelled. At least not yet.” He smiled back at the principal “I think that repeat offenders should be expelled. Once? Fine, maybe an honest mistake. They’re young, give him a chance to learn. Twice? That’s definitely racist and shouldn’t be tolerated in such a fine institution.” He stared at the man, and was surprised by the amount of time the other was able to sustain the eye contact.

“I will have to bring that up in the next board meeting, and...”

“Great!” Dick interrupted, charismatic “Great, you do that, and I think we’re done here. Why don’t you send the kids back to their classes now, hm?” He grinned, fake, plastic, and just a little bit malicious.

“Good idea.” The principal retributes the smile “Run along now children. No detours of any kind on your way back to your classrooms.”

.................................

As they were making their way out, Damian pulled at Dick’s hand slightly, getting his attention.

“What’s step two now?” Damian whispers to him.

“Well, now you go back to class and tell me if this happens again.” Dick answered, and Damian kept staring at him “Hey, step one went well. You shouldn’t have to worry about this anymore.”

Damian stopped cold in the middle of the hallway. Bruce and Dick stopped too. Damian then suddenly threw his body against Dick’s, nearly tackling his brother to the ground in a quick and intense hug. He didn’t say anything before walking back to class.

“So, seeing as you’re the expert,” Bruce said, serious but with a bit of happiness in his tone “What now?”

“Now,” Dick sighed “Now I call Jason and see if he’s free to drop off and pick up Damian with me for the next couple of weeks. If Tim wants to tag along, that’d be nice too.” He shoved his hands in his pocket “If I know one thing about these guys, is that their older brothers are all still the same racist dickheads they’ve always been. But they are... Aggressive.” Bruce noticed how his son placed a protective hand over his own stomach at the thought “So I think we should probably be here for a while. Just to make sure nothing happens.”

“Okay.” Bruce nods, and solemnly he adds: “I wish you didn’t have to deal with this.”

“Yeah... But don’t beat yourself up over this, okay? It’s not your fault and you’re doing all that you can.” Dick reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing slightly.

.................................

The rest of the day, Dick had an awful restlessness inside him, constantly bumping his legs or tapping on a surface. He had this awful gut feeling (that one might call instinct), as if he knew something bad was bound to happen today. He hoped he’d be there when it happened. That feeling made him drag Jason and Tim to the school about an hour earlier, the three of them waiting by the car silently. The only reason his brothers didn’t question his acts was because they also felt the same worry take over their bodies whenever they thought of the little brat.

When the bell rang, all of them had moved closer to the gate.

“Oh, fuck no.” Dick exclaimed, looking at three guys standing nearby. He grabbed Jason’s attention “Those are the assholes that fucked with me back then.”

“Do you think they are really here for Damian?” Jason asked, concerned.

“What else would they be here for?” He bit his lip “But yeah, I’m also concerned about a lawsuit. We can’t just beat them up for no reason.”

“What do we do?” Tim asked the older man.

“Let’s get closer. Wait. And pray to the heavens that I’m wrong.”

But Dick wasn’t wrong. And as soon as the group saw Damian approaching they started to walk towards him, trying to intimidate the kid.

“Ayo, Al Ghul, we’ve got something to say to you!” He heard one of them yell. Lawrence Du Pont, of course.

“Hey, leave him alone!” Dick yelled.

Lawrence pushed Damian, making him fall on his butt. Dick reached him just in time, throwing the man to the ground in an impressive judo move, putting as much weight as possible on his ribcage, hoping to break a bone or two.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch my brother again, you disgusting little shit.” He whispered, getting up. The man remained on the floor.

Jason punched one of them in that perfect spot by the jawline, making him pass out immediately. Dick turned his gaze to the other man.

“Wanna run, do it now, bitch.” He growled, and the guy proved that he had a little intelligence left in him, leaving quickly.

Tim had already helped Damian to his feet, but he was unusually pale. A security guard came to check on what all the fuss was about and Jason quickly filled him in, sliding the man a more than generous tip for his troubles. Tim had a protective arm around his younger brother’s shoulder, and Dick rested a hand on his back, guiding them to the car.

“Listen Dames, from here on now, you have permission to fight anyone that physically threatens you, full force.” Dick says once they are back in the car, looking at his brother on the back seat “Just pick one fighting style and try your best to stick to it. It helps to cover anything up in case the media comes in snooping.”

“I see.” Damian states as Jason starts the car “So Jason picked boxing, I can see why, and you picked judo, which is the opposite of what I thought to be closest to your actual style.”

“It was part of the choice too.” Dick sighed, looking out the window “It’s distant from Nightwing, so less of a problem there, and it’s easier to plead self-defence.”

“But...” Damian frowned “Did you ever use it for anything other than self-defence?”

“No. But getting anyone to believe it was in self-defence was damn near impossible.” Dick’s words felt bitter “So judo was my pick because it’s not as lethal as, say, jiu-jitsu can be, but also takes proximity, meaning someone put their hands on me first.”

“Hopefully you won’t need to do it.” Tim said, sitting across from him on the car “But if you do, try to get it on tape so we can put it on youtube and go viral.”

“No,” Dick protests over Jason’s snickering “No, try to stay away from cameras. We don’t need that kind of press.”

Damian smiled as he looked out the window. The peace of the rainy day outside the car was a perfect contrast to the chaotic conversations his brothers had inside of it, talking loudly, arguing and laughing.

When they got back to the manor, Cass and Duke waited for them in the kitchen, stirring a pan and quietly arguing about what to do or not do.

“No, trust me, we don’t need anything else, you just have to be patient...” Duke said “No! Put that down, I’m not adding cornstarch on this.”

“But the guy on youtube...”

“I know what the guy on youtube said, but forget about the guy on youtube for one second, I know what I’m doing.”

“It’s not going to work.”

“It’s going to work alright.” Duke frowned.

“Duke, Cass,” Dick said, his three brothers standing behind him, all of them very curious as to what was going on “What are you doing?”

“Hot chocolate.” Cass answered “But he’s making it wrong.”

“I’m not making it wrong, I’m making it better.” Duke shot back to Cass before turning to his brothers “We heard that Damian had a rough time and... We wanted to make him something nice.”

“This makes me feel happy, so it will make Damian feel happy too, I’m sure.” Cass said “If Duke gets it right.”

“Oh My God woman, will you stop questioning my skills for a second?” Duke shot back.

“It’s not getting thick.”

“It is getting thick, trust me.” Duke said “Just... Sit down on the table and let me do this, all of you.”

“You heard the boss.” Dick jokes, escorting his siblings to the kitchen table.

Damian sat down next to Dick, who was across from Jason. Sitting on Jason’s left side, facing Damian, was Cass, and on his right side, Tim. Damian looked around, taking in the sweet chocolate scent that filled the room, and felt a slight touch to his fingertips. Cass had reached out to him. None of them said anything, but she smiled at her youngest brother, and Damian understood what she meant, offering a small smile back.

They talked loudly, filling the Wayne’s huge kitchen with laughter and warmth, teasing each other, poking fun, sharing stories and memes with each other, being themselves. Damian noticed how much better everything felt now that all of them had moved back in the manor. For a period of time, when it was only him, father and Tim, everything felt a little lifeless, a little dull. When Cass came back to live with them, things started to get better.

But for Damian, the biggest turning point was Duke. His honest, sharp mind brought balance and fun into the house in a way none of the others did. Dick’s frequent visits became even more frequent, to the point where the man just decided to move in and help Bruce deal with the new hoard of teenagers he had brought in (or to help the teenagers deal with Bruce, which is decidedly harder). After that, Tim seemed healthier, happier, more light-hearted. Their heated arguments subdued a lot. And somehow, even Jason began to find the house comfortable again. He still travels back and forth, alternating between his place and the manor, but Damian was almost grateful for his presence now. His straightforward style helped cut through a lot of bullshit speeches.

The thought brought tears to Damian’s eyes. He didn’t fully understand why he cries at moments like these, but right now he couldn’t help it. The table slowly turned silent again as he hid his face in his hands.

“Dami?” Dick called, and Damian’s cry became even more compulsive and unstoppable when he heard the nickname “Dami, what’s wrong?” His brother’s voice was soft and filled with worry, and Damian felt his hand brushing against his arm.

Damian shaked his head and leaned forward, hiding his face in Dick’s shoulder. His tears left wet marks on his brother’s shirt.

“I-I don’t know.” Damian whispered.

Dick hugged him, strong hands rubbing his brother’s back.

“I-I...” Damian tried again “I can’t help it. I’m sorry.”

“Can’t help what, Dami?”

“Crying.”

“It’s okay.” Dick whispered “It’s okay to cry.”

“I love you.” Damian sobbed “So much. It hurts.”

“Aw, Dami...” Dick smiled, planting a kiss to his brother’s scalp “We love you too. So much that it hurts.” He squeezed his brother a little tighter, and Damian sobbed louder and louder, until he was gasping for air “Hey, calm down,” Dick whispered again “We’re not going anywhere, Dami. I’m right here. It’s okay. Breathe. Shhh...”

Damian still felt weak. He knew that it would take a while for him to feel strong again, after what happened. But he knew he had his family with him, borrowing all the strength he could need until he got his back. As he calmed down, Duke sat a huge mug, filled to the brim with the thickest, glossiest, most mouth watering hot chocolate he had ever seen.

“Be careful, it’s still super hot.” Duke warned, handing him a long spoon and ruffling his hair. He took his place on the opposite side of Dick after setting down cups for everyone else “Just for the record,” Duke smiles as he sits down “I’d like to say that this turned out great and I knew exactly what I was doing, so eat your heart out Cassandra.”

The girl stuck her tongue out as her brother’s snickered at the teasing. Soon, the table was filled with laughter again, but this time Damian didn’t cry. He was too busy being happy to do so.

#Dick Grayson #Damian Wayne #batfamily #Batfam #batman bingo 2020 #batman bingo #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Bruce Wayne #Duke Thomas #Cassandra Cain #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

[essaycollection99]

why sometimes its ok to creep on your ex 5 years later

why sometimes its ok to creep on your ex 5 years later originally posted on medium.com

21 minutes past midnight. First day of the new year.

I definitely do some of my best writing a little manic. Half asleep. A little high, a little tipsy. It’s always at the edge of something. 

Usually I feel guilty for cyber stalking my exes. Tonight is different though. Tonight I felt relieved. 

He looks good. Healthy. Alive. 

When he dropped out of school and stopped talking to any of us he also scrubbed most of his online presence. For a while some cryptic new song would be released on his bandcamp, and I only learned about it through a burner email address that was signed up for his new releases. One day even that disappeared. 

He was the first guy anything ever felt good with, you know? 

It was a mess. The whole thing. Every minute of being with him was a messy dance of me being scared to ask for what I wanted. Which was him. Or, more clearly, which was him to leave his girlfriend and give us a shot. For me to actually trust him (and myself) enough to say fuck it, it’s worth it, even if it crashes and burns. If it crashed and burned at least that meant it had gotten off the ground.

I thought I was playing it safe by living in the inbetweens and taking whatever I was given. 

I said I was too busy. I became busy with my ex who wasn’t really giving me the time of day. 

I said it didn’t matter to me. That I was edgy. That I wanted open. That I was 21 and he was 19 and we could do whatever we wanted without really talking about what we were doing or what we wanted. It crashed and burned even without us ever defining what we were doing. 

That was five years ago. 

Besides being really hard to search for online, the other reason I never really searched was because I was worried what I would find. When I was (metaphorically) still bruised and bloodied from the aftermath of things, still completely broken and depressed to the fact that his last text of “I’m not going anywhere, so don’t miss me this summer” turned into him not talking to me or our other best friend at all. Oh, and his open relationship was actually closed, his girlfriend was in classes with me that next semester and hated my guts, and I apparently wasn’t as cool about being the other woman that I originally thought I was. I was a senior and supposed to be prepping for a BFA but all I could do was fixate on how miserable I was and didn’t know who I was anymore because of my actions that spring. As all of this was going on, he stopped showing up to classes, and there was a rumor that he was in the hospital for alcohol poisoning. I still remember calling the list of local hospitals asking about him, and then rushing to my job at the library. I was late. Eyes still red, my ex came in with no books to return or check out, presumably just to kill time by talking with me until his rehearsal started. He asked what was wrong and I told him I was worried for my friend Chris’s life. 

My ex didn’t really know about Chris and I, but I think he knew enough. He knew that Chris and I were close, but he was the one friend that I didn’t talk to him about. That was enough for him to know. 

I think my ex told me that he was really sorry, and that he hoped that Chris would be ok. I couldn’t really respond because I had started to hold back tears. I cried a lot that year on the job; huge thanks to my unlabeled anxiety and everything that comes with fooling around with classmates in a very small art school. With only 7 majors we had just under 900 students in all. Shit got around fast.  My ex wordlessly moved away from the check in / check out library counter and towards the gate. He started to open it and I got up instead. He was always trying to come behind to the staff only side of things. He wrapped me in the biggest most protective hug and amidst everything I felt safe again. 

A lot of times I forget about why so much time in college was spent with him, and then I remember the small moments like this, and remember he wasn’t all douchebag. He knew what to do, and my anxiety always stopped in his arms. 

My good (and albeit overprotective) friend of ours walked by and gave us a look, she had rehearsal with my ex in 15 minuets (like I said, the school was small, we knew everyone’s business). All he said was “Lani’s friend is in the hospital right now.” Which prompted our friend to give me a hug too.  

Googling Chris years later and I was worried that I’d find the worst news online. Sure, our other best friend used to see him in a blue moon working at a vape shop, or maybe it was talking to someone who worked at a vape shop that Chris would go to. Or running into his ex girlfriend at a party (apparently they only broke up finally once Chris turned 21 and could buy for himself).

Sure, I can still remember it all, what he smells like, what it felt like to have his hands on my hip absently during a movie night, can still think of the way he said “wow” when I undressed for him in an empty classroom. But, years later am I allowed to be worried about him? He was an alcoholic at a young age, and I knew stories from before I met him. I knew stories about him from after he stopped talking to us. I was so worried about what would happen. 

Do I even need to say it? Surely you’ve read enough of my work to know how my dad turned out. You just read how Chris ended up with alcohol poisoning. I was worried about the worst. Maybe that’s why I never did a real good job at finding him online, when I would boredly look for his scrubbed online footprint. 

I want to make happy art. I’ve been making abstract art for almost 2 years now. But, I still want to capture those flutterflies you feel when a boy shouts across the parking lot “you’re back!” and runs towards you. When he kisses you in the elevator on the way to your class, but then has to run down two flights of stairs so he gets to his class on time. I want those feelings in art because they don’t come naturally to me. One of the simplest feelings of happy was when I was with Chris. I have most of that time recorded in a small red notebook, and so I re read it. Lay in bed and skimmed, looking for his name. Reading and smiling, remembering I really did try. Sure, it was a mess (see: beginning of this essay) but it was pretty damn sweet as well. I wrote in my journal about a day that he was particularly nihilistic, distinctly hard to read, specifically very very high. It was his mother’s birthday. 

His mother. 

Sure, he might have scrubbed his social media footprint, but it’s really hard to get parents off of facebook. Even more so, it’s hard for them to not post photos of you on it, even if you are a grown ass adult. 

I had never thought to look up his mother. 

It almost felt stupid afterwards, the fact that I had never done that. 

His smile is still the same. 

He’s 25 now. In my head I’m me still, but I’m picturing him as the 19 year old kid taking dab bong hits with our best friend and than coming into the corner of the kitchen to kiss me without anyone noticing. Rail thin from never “remembering” to eat, soft lipped, shy smile, sad eyes, 19 year old (soon to be) college drop out. 

I close my eyes and can still see him, shouting at me from across the street “you’ve got bows in your hair!” The naturally bleach blonde hair and pastel colors he wore, the urgent way he kissed me in the video editing room as I waited for my mentor to show.

His hair isn't blonde now, it’s strawberry blonde, the hint of ginger.

He seems taller now. 

He attended his sister’s wedding. 

He looks good. Alive. Healthy. Sober. 

His face has filled out. I pull up photos of me from when we knew each other, and photos of me now, do I look that much changed as well? It was hard to eat in college for me too, I think I’m a little less thin now. I feel more me. I wonder if he feels the same. My hair is pink now, though when I look at my old hair I now see thick light caramel hair instead of the stringy dirty brown I always felt it was. I know now which parts of my body I want to accentuate and how. 

Oh god, his smile. It’s still the same. It melts me. 

He looks happy. He looks happy on his mothers facebook page- his mother who he was so angry at so long ago. It all feels surreal. I’m back in the library all over again, but this time, instead of being worried, I get good news.  That my ex is right, things will be ok.

I usually feel guilty when I cyber stalk exes. Foolish for wanting to see what they’re up to without me. Silly for caring so much years later, after so much absence. But for Chris, I just felt relief. 

His mother writes “I am so proud of my compassionate son Chris, love you to the moon and back” on a close up photo uploaded two months ago. The 19 year old angry, nihilistic, fuck-the-world-including-my-mother-because-I-refuse-to-call-her-back-even-if-it’s-her-birthday, would have hated that post. I held his hand and listened to him rant that day. Watched him let go of my hand and kick rocks into the Bay, upset at him mom for reasons that didn’t make sense to me. 

“I’m not a good guy.” He would tell me between soft, feather like kisses (trying to get my sensitive skin not to go red between classes, but it’d happen anyways). “I have really bad days. I don’t talk to anyone on Wednesdays. No matter how much I like them.”

I never believed him. Tried to tell him how special he was. How talented. How wonderful he was. How things would work out for him.

I was right. 

#ex #short essay #autobiographical essay #college stories #new year

[blue-eyes-and-auburn-hairr]

Second Chances Chp. 4

Disclaimer: Okay, I got more notes than I thought I ever would, so while the world is quarantined...I wrote another part.

Warning: Mention of death, fluff, I don’t want to mislead anyone this will very much be a slowburn

Summary: Can you imagine being widowed at such a young age to a man you thought you’d have forever with? On the anniversary of his death, on top of a mountain, Thea and Chris begin their new journey together.

(I want to experiment with a different perspective if its trash I’ll redo this chp. )

Thea had no idea why it was so hard to ghost this guy. It should be easy, they hung out for half a day a week ago. He should already have her out of his head, but no he still continues to call. 

“Ms. Mulligan I finished reading the chapter what should I do now?” Thea’s 3rd period reading support class was currently working on finishing their novel. She would typically read to them but her mind had been scattered all week. 

“Kay, why don’t you draw a picture of your favorite chapter so far on the smartboard?” Thea prompts, knowing that Kay loves to draw and she really is interested in the novel...even if she won’t admit it. 

“Can I listen to music, puhleaseee?” She spins around with a great big smile on her face. 

“As long as you don’t blast it and its not that Billie Eye Lash person,” Thea rolls her eyes with a smirk knowing what would follow. 

“Mully, you’re embarrassing yourself you know her name is Billie Eilish because I’ve stalked your Spotify playlist, right Kai?” Kai, who was too busy reading the next chapter to even look up when she responds, “Yeah Mully, we are currently working on one of those mixtapes for you so be prepared.” 

The nickname Thea fought for a good three months but finally caved when her co-workers started using it as well. As for the Spotify stalking, not surprised more impressed and she was now looking forward to the next mixtape they give her. 

Last semester, Thea assigned the class a project that required them to find a song to coincide with each chapter of their novel. The students also had to write one paragraph explaining why they choose each song. That was when the revolting started for about 20 minutes until Andrew, in the back of the class, had enough and shouted, “She is legit letting us listen to music all class period and write like 10 paragraphs for a week. The other students have to write an essay on like literary devices or something and they had to read the book all by themselves.” 

“Legit?” Kay announced shocked.

“Legit Kay, legit,” Thea sighs, “Also we have like 78 words on the word wall can we work on using one of those instead of ‘legit’?” 

“Bet.” Kai says with her hand in the air and at that point, Thea just puts her head down silently laughing. 

Her phone buzzed on her desk again, this time it was just a CNN update but the missed call was still staring her in the face. All Thea has felt since that night was guilt. She felt like she was cheating on Jamie and all they did was hug before getting in their own cars and driving away. The bubble burst though on the drive home when the waterworks wouldn’t stop and she had to pull over on the side of the road almost three times. 

And then Sunday morning, her phone rings and she watches as it goes to voicemail and then it vibrates again with a voicemail. She stares at her phone for a few more minutes before playing the message. 

Hey Thea, I just wanted to call and check in on you. You never messaged me when you got home last night and I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Leaving West Point now and you were right I think I definitely made the guard’s day.  I’m sure you are busy getting ready for the school day tomorrow but if you have a second to talk I’m around. Okay, take care now. 

He called one more time that evening but no message. It was now Friday and Thea had five missed calls and two messages in total. She did not know how to process all of this and she had been burying herself in work trying to stay busy avoiding the topic. She did that with most things and she knew it wasn’t going to end well and that she was being selfish. So she picked up her phone and tried to type out a text, but then the bell rang and the class started to pack up. 

“Okay, guys I’ll see most of you in 7th and 8th for Math, make sure to have your homework notebook, hint, hint hint,” Thea says with a wink. She knew their anxiety would soar if they walked in not knowing about a homework check so she always made sure she casually mentioned something to them. Her co-teacher was not a fan of this, but her kids, her decision. 

Thea now had a prep period and then lunch to try and sort out all of her thoughts. She even had time to call Chris back, but she did not trust herself to keep her emotions in check, especially while at work. 

Hey Chris, Sorry for the disappearing act. I’m still just trying to process everything and work has kept me occupied. Can we talk tonight? Text, call or even facetime if that’s easier.  Sorry again. 

Chris’ phone finally vibrated in his pocket as he was walking out of a bagel shop in New York City. He was supposed to make his way to Boston to see his family after his trip upstate but that was sidetracked by some work stuff. 

His new movie, “Captain America: Civil War was being released in a few weeks and he had a few talk shows and then the Lower Manhattan premiere was on May 4th. He knew he was going to be in town for some time now and wanted to see Thea again. 

She just didn’t want to see him. 

He had no idea what he did wrong and wanted a chance to see her and explain that. So when she finally answered him back he wasn’t sure how to respond. He would prefer to talk in person but did not want to upset her or whatever else he may have done. He tried to call his brother for some advice but that call went to voicemail as well, but his mom picked up on the first ring. 

“Chris, honey you okay?” 

“Yeah Ma, I just needed a little advice and Scott didn’t answer,” he admits to his mother.

“Well, why would you call him before me? Does he give better advice or somethin’?” This was a rabbit hole Chris would very much like to avoid. 

“It’s about a girl Ma, he already knows most of the back story,” Chris sighs through the phone.

“Ahh, so this is about the girl you met on the hike, well more like Dodger found, who you had to call your brother about in the bathroom while on a date with her?” 

“Wait what? We weren’t on a date and wow did he really tell you everything?” Chris says in complete shock. “And let the record show that I called him when SHE was in the bathroom.”

“Of course he did, I’m his mother, he tells me everything” cue the eye roll. 

“Okay Ma, and yes I called Scott, obviously that was a mistake,” Chris chuckles “He apparently blabbed everything.” Chris still wasn’t sure why he called his brother when Thea went to the bathroom, he just was so happy for the first time in a while that he needed to tell someone.

“So this is the girl that you’re going to marry, huh?” His mother bluntly states, causing Chris to almost drop his phone. 

“What the fuck did Scott say? Who said anything about marriage? We talked for like four hours and she has been avoiding me all week.”

“Scott said you were going on and on about how you finally ‘found her’ which is why he called me 20 seconds after hanging up with you.” Thank goodness for the ballcap and the glasses or all of NYC would see the flushed cheeks of Christopher Evans. 

“Okay, can we circle back to that whole topic later? Or maybe after I have a word with my kid brother. How do I ask her to meet up with me tonight when she only wanted to talk on the phone? Is that too forward? Should I just say yes to the phone call?” Chris continued to ramble to his mother. 

“It can’t hurt to ask,” such a simple response and yet it was perfect. “Just mind your manners, you were raised better Christopher.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Chris says finally smiling because he has a plan. 

“And if you need to call anyone on this date, call me not your brother,” she chuckles on the phone. “Love you and let me know how it goes.”

“Love you too”

Hey Thea, a phone call would be perfect unless you would want to meet up in person? I’m still in New York and would really like to see you again. If you wanted to meet in the city or someplace by you...whatever is easier. 

Thea wanted to act like she was shocked by the message but she understood. Jamie and her relationship started out as long-distance, so when you have the opportunity to see someone in person you jump. 

She didn’t know if she was ready for all of this, but she also knew it wasn’t fair to Chris. They needed to talk and put all of their cards on the table.

I would like to see you again too, but whatever is easier for you.

Long Beach is about an hour train ride to the city, but not sure would be better for you with people and stuff. 

You could also come here and we could get some ice cream and take a walk on the boardwalk? If that doesn’t sound too cliche...

The bell is going to ring so no rush we can figure this out after school. 

Thea finally stopped blowing up his phone by her overthinking and put her phone in her bag for the rest of the school day. 

The afternoon went by in a flash, Thea waited until she got into her car after school to look at her phone. 

Not cliche at all, that sounds perfect. I can be to you by 7, just send me the address of the ice cream shop 

Thea forwarded the address and then made her way home. She had a few hours to kill before she would see Chris so she tried to busy herself with things to do to prevent the overthinking. 

Chris on the other head couldn’t stop the overthinking and the worst-case scenarios that played out in his head. He has so many things to worry about with the movie and all the press but he cannot get her beautiful smile out of his head. 

He just didn’t know what it was about her, everything about Thea just seemed authentic. She had been dealt such a tough hand that would make any person cold and distant, but she still wears her heart on her sleeve.  Even Dodger could see her genuine soul and stepped in to defend her when we were on the mountain. Chris just wanted to get to know her better, he thought he might miss out on something unbelievable if he just walked away. He also understood that she was still so hurt and wanted to help her in any way that he could. 

Chris thought about that while driving down to the ice cream shop and pulling into the parking lot a few minutes early. He spotted Thea as she was laying down a blanket in the trunk of her Jeep. He could only see the back of her and he was glad she was wearing something comfy and casual. It made him feel better about his jeans and t-shirt that took him an hour to finally commit too. He parked his car and made his way over to her, he closed his truck door loudly and called her name so he didn’t startle her. She didn’t turn around, she was too busy struggling with her own nerves. She had been fixing this blanket for a good 10 minutes and trying to decide whether or not it was lame and if she should scrap the whole idea. She didn’t even have a clue that Chris was behind her for a few minutes before she actually turned around with a jump. 

“Sorry, I was trying so hard not to scare you but you didn’t respond when I called your name a few times,” stumbled with his words. 

Thea kept a hand over her heart trying to steady her breathing and when it was finally calmed she looked up to see Chris’ concerned expression. 

Thea couldn’t help but laugh, “Well you looked like the last time we met too, only I had a knife in my hand and yet you look more scared now.” 

And just like that the tension that had worried them both had broken as Thea walked over to give Chris a big hug. They make there way over to the line and ordered two sundaes and then head back to her car. 

“I figured we could sit here while we ate our ice cream and then head to the boardwalk, its a few minutes away but I didn’t want the sundaes to melt” 

Chris continues staring at his ice cream trying to find a way to ask the question that had been driving him crazy all week. He didn’t know how to phrase it without making the situation worse. 

Thea scoots back into the car and sits like a pretzel, “So let’s talk about it before the elephant in the room gets any bigger.” Thea used to be all about beating around the bush but after everything that happened, time is one thing you can never get back. 

“Did I do something to upset you? I have been trying to figure out why you didn’t answer and I am coming up short” Chris admits finally looking away from his ice cream. 

“You did nothing wrong and I don’t want to sound like an asshole when I say that this had nothing to do with you,” Thea says while running her fingers through her hair. Chris sits patiently giving her a second to collect her thoughts. 

“I want to explain this right, so please take everything I say with a grain of salt because I am bound to put my foot in my mouth” Thea sets the stage with a disclaimer because she is absolutely terrified of the direction this could go. 

“You know that feeling when you are exercising or playing a sport and your breaths are coming shorter and the tightness in your chest is growing? You can still breath but it’s a struggle and you cannot wait for it to subside? And then finally you stop and you catch your breath and the air in your lungs fills again and you know you are going to be okay?” Chris nods along to Thea’s analogy trying to see where she was going with this. 

Thea takes a second to collect her words again, “Chris, I have been trying to catch my breath for three years now and no outlet, no resource, nothing was helping. The panic attacks while I was awake and even when I was sleeping, I just couldn’t...” Thea tries to collect herself shaking the tears from eyes refusing to let them spill. “And then I ask Jamie for a sign that it’s okay for me to stop running and I turn around and there you were” Thea clears her throat again.

“And Chris, I finally started breathing again.”

“Then we hugged and I got in my car and started to drive away and all at once it was gone and my lungs were aching and I was terrified and lost all over again” Chris is not sure at what point he reached for her hand but he was gently squeezing it as Thea continued to shake her head. 

“Out of nowhere, I was angry at myself that I let this happen and how I was a fool for thinking I could be normal again.” Thea pulled her hand away, “I woke up to the text you sent me and then the guilt set in. I felt guilty being happy with you and wanting to answer you and then guilty because I was not being fair to you and then guilty because we only knew each other for a few hours and I was giving so much power to something that wasn’t real.”  She swirls the melting ice cream in her lap, “and now I am just sad because sitting here with you right now with all these emotions I am breathing just fine.”

“And I am scared of what will happen next.” 

Chris had no idea how to react to all of this, she had so many layers and so much going on and unintentionally he hurt her. Thea was right though this wasn’t about him but the fact that he was helping and hurting her at the same time was making his head spin. Nothing was sitting right with him and maybe ice cream wasn’t the best choice because his stomach was churning. 

“I don’t know what to say, the thought that I am causing you pain, it makes me sick. Why would you say this isn’t real though?”

“Chris,” Thea sighs “I don’t know, you’re you and I’m me and I am talking this Chris not that other guy so don’t jump to conclusions. I am filled with scars and a heart that may never work again. You are so sweet and caring and could be anywhere right now and yet you are here with me eating ice cream in my trunk. We only talked for one evening, it just doesn’t make sense.” 

“Isn’t that how all great stories start though, with a great evening that leads to many more?”

“Chris, the only thing I can offer you is a hand to hold and friendship, I don’t think I can handle much more and that’s not fair to you.”

“Deal, sold, I’ll take it. Now let’s head to the boardwalk before it gets too chilly” Chris says while taking the melted ice cream and tossing it. 

“Wait what?” Thea says completely taken back. 

“I am not done getting to know you and I have a feeling this will all be worth it,” Chris says with a smirk. 

“Chris, I really don’t…” Chris cut Thea off, “I’m an optimist so let’s just enjoy each other’s company, okay?” 

Thea nods and recommends that Chris should follow her back to her apartment building to leave his truck so that they can just walk from there to the boardwalk, parking was bound to be crazy on this warm spring night. When they finally park and head to the boardwalk, Chris, optimistically, grabs Thea’s hand and they start their walk with the breeze from the open pushing them along. 

Chris decides while looking at her windblown hair, that he is going to help her no matter what. She deserves so much happiness in this life, Chris made a silent promise to her that all of her hardest days were behind her.  

Giving her hand an extra squeeze, Chris looks out into the distance and makes the same promise to the night sky that was watching over her.

@chi00072 @capstopavenger​

#avengers #chris evans #chris evans x original female character #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #marvel masterlist #captain america #captain america x you #captain america x female reader #captain america x ofc #original female character #marvel #military #dodger

[gleepotluckbigbang]

Coffee Shop Writing Prompts by @veronicabunchwrites

To start you guys off, a prompt list by @veronicabunchwrites. Veronica is no longer on Tumblr, only on Pillowfort, so I can’t reblog, only repost, sorry about that. The original post can be found here.

100 coffee shop au writing prompts!

there’s something about people meeting and falling in love over hot drinks that presents such a cozy atmosphere. it’s no wonder that it’s a favourite. some of these prompts are classic because who can resist the tried and true?

01.  clearly you’re going through a bad breakup because this playlist is the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard and I’m begging you please change it 02.  you’re my favourite employee because you always have my order ready on the days I’m running late to the office 03.  I order the same thing as my boss in case something happens to their coffee and one day, you write your number on the cup I give to my boss 04.  my friend swears that you can pick the perfect drink for anyone but I’m skeptical because there’s no way you can look at someone and just know their order - and of course, you nail my drink 05.  I run the shop beside your bookstore and I’m trying to convince you that it could be beneficial to knock down the wall between our shops and you’re being a big pain in the ass about it 06.  I hired you to make drinks not flirt with every customer that walks in and how dare you accuse me of jealousy, get back to work 07.  you were a dick to my coworker so I’ve been writing insults on your cups and why the hell do you keep coming back here anyway?

08.  I know you’re about to close and I swear I’ll give you a $20 tip, can you please just take my order? I’ve had the worst day possible 09.  a $20 tip isn’t worth me staying open late, but then you burst into tears and I end up asking you if you want to hang around to talk 10.  you’re the night manager who runs open mic nights and I’m the baker who starts at 3am so sometimes our paths cross and I like talking to you 11.  you never order the same thing more than once and just as you’re about to get to the end of the menu, I start adding new things because I’m afraid you’ll stop coming in 12.  I’ve been writing lame jokes on your cups because you’re the grumpiest person ever and you finally crack a smile 13.  you always get my order wrong and I’m pretty sure you’re doing it on purpose just so you get a free drink out of it because employees have a crap discount 14.  I’ve been working on this essay/project/article/etc. for the last ten hours and I’ve barely moved so you come over to give me something to eat and ask if I’m okay 15.  I’m dragged to open mic night by my best friend, and while I’m ordering my drink, your voice fills the room and I’m mesmerized 16.  there’s a poetry slam and while I’ve never gone on stage, I’m obsessed with your stuff 17.  you were rude so I insult you and you just left a $50 tip??? who the fuck do you think you are? 18.  I decided to use my personal (and massive) mug collection when I opened my shop and you start hanging around just to see which mug you’ll get 19.  I open a cat cafe with a separate room for the cats that are all available to adopt, and you keep coming in to sit with them even though you’re allergic 20.  I haven’t seen you in years but you just walked into my coffee shop and by your snooty attitude, you don’t seem to know that I own the place 21.  I really don’t care that you’re a famous celebrity, you will stand in line just like everyone else and that’s that 22.  this shop is really busy but I need their wifi, so could we share this table? 23.  we’re working on our school project in this cafe and I’m pretty sure my group just figured out that I have a crush on you 24.  I have a job interview and you're the clumsy employee who just spilled hot coffee all down my white shirt 25.  I’m on the worst blind/Tinder/Grindr date and you ‘accidentally’ dump a drink on my date to save me 26.  you’re a big city person visiting my tiny coffee shop in a small town and you’re so rude when you ask if we have cappuccinos that I lie and say no 27.  I just bumped into my ex so I slip my arm in yours to pretend you’re my current partner even though you were just standing in line behind me 28.  my umbrella broke and I just stepped into your shop soaking wet and you run upstairs to get me some towels from your apartment and I’m sorry I’m crying but this is the nicest thing that’s happened to me all week 29.  my AC isn’t working at my apartment so I’ve been spending most of my spare time here and using your wifi and I think you’re flirting with me 30.  I’ve been hanging out more because I sit at the counter to watch two baristas flirt (OT3 bonus!) / and you join me so we make a bet on when they’ll get together 31.  I named my coffee shop Coffee Shop and you’re the customer who loudly talks about how stupid the name is 32.  I’ve been sitting in the break room wondering how to ask you out on a date when you come in and announce you were just asked out by a customer (bonus if OT3!) 33.  you’re a famous celebrity who ducks in to my quiet shop and asks if you can hide, and I mean, sure, but are you going to order something? I have to make a living here, dude 34.  I know you own this place but dude, this song has been on repeat for the last hour and I will pay you to change it 35.  I’m really nervous as I’m meeting a family member for the very first time and you’re the kind employee who sits with me to help calm my nerves 36.  you’re staring at me and I don’t know why until you tell me I’ve been singing along to my music and I’m mortified because I didn’t realize 37.  I saw your Help Needed sign in the window and you look busy so where are the aprons and how can I help? 38.  every day I write a quote on a chalkboard on the wall and apparently you’re the author I just quoted but you’ve never shown your face in public before so why are you telling me? 39.  someone left a note in the suggestions box that the barista is the cutest person they’ve seen and I’m laughing as my coworkers discuss who it could be when you quietly admit it’s about me 40.  you just cut in front of me in line and I’m not in the mood to let it slide 41.  I noticed you were on ao3 reading smut and when you go up to get something else to drink from the counter, I realize you’re reading the fic I posted twenty minutes ago 42.  your dog and my dog just tangled their leashes outside the coffee shop and now they won’t leave each other’s sides, so do you want to join me at this table? 43.  I know it’s not my place but your teenager seems to be mixed up in a bad crowd and I thought you should know they’re hiding in the bathroom crying right now 44.  your father comes in weekly at the exact same time and orders the exact same two drinks because that’s what he used to do with your mother and you come looking for him 45.  I really need you to put up this flyer on the community board but you’re sort of being a prick about it 46.  you hire my band to come place on a weekly basis but the more time I spend with you the more time I want to kiss you 47.  you’re my ex who I’ve never really gotten over and you just surprised me by paying for my coffee and I’m not prepared to see you 48.  my coworker wrote my cell phone number on your cup when I wasn’t paying attention and now you’re texting me 49.  after overhearing you order the eccentric coffee shop owner’s drink of the week, I warn you that it never tastes good (bonus if you convince me it’s great this week so I sip and suffer with you) 50.  the last clue to my partner’s scavenger hunt is supposed to be here, and while I’m looking for it, I discover that you’re my partner’s friend who set the whole thing up (bonus: ot3) 51.  I sold my business for millions when I was in high school and tried to disappear from the spotlight but I’ve just been spotted drinking your coffee and feel bad since you’re overwhelmed with the sudden influx of new customers 52.  I overhear you talking to your friend about how you’re planning on meeting up with your ex and I can’t stop myself from butting in because that’s a bad mistake 53.  I’m hosting a food-eating contest to raise money for charity at my shop and you seem to have an endless stomach that makes me a little concerned 54.  I catch you in the act of placing your newspaper over a customer’s cell phone/wallet/etc. and then stealing it when they deny you money 55.  you walk into my coffee just before close looking like a runaway bride/groom/princess/prince/royalty so I stick around to keep you company 56.  meeting at the coffee shop feels like fate, but now we’re sitting here because I’m terrified to tell you my big secret 57.  you’re a grumpy customer who doesn’t talk but you always have the most fun tie/socks/dresses/sweaters/etc. and I look forward to see what you wear next 58.  I’ve been obsessed with your homemade soups and I always rave about them to the cashier but I didn’t realize you also make them until you surprise me with a new recipe 59.  I rent out your shop for the evening to propose to my significant other and they dump me on the spot 60.  I run a baking class one night a week after hours at my shop and you keep coming back despite being the worst baker ever 61.  you left me a bad review so I’m tracking you down to yell at you and demand a retraction 62.  you’re the contractor I’ve hired to build individual bathrooms so I can offer genderless options for people (bonus if contractor is trans/nb/gender queer) 63.  I host a board game night every Friday and you always come in with your best friend and ask me to teach you a new game and I cannot believe you’ve never played Life before (or: insert own game) 64.  I’ve been getting really creative with my foam art and I do some naughty-bits to amuse my coworker on their drink when you mistakenly take it and think I’m hitting on you 65.  I’m wiping down a table when I notice that you left a cell phone number on the back of your receipt for your lunch and I ask my coworker if I should text you (bonus if ot3) 66.  every time you come into my shop, I swear you have a new sticker on your laptop and I desperately want to ask about this one 67.  you come in to steal the shop’s wifi for video calls with your mom/dad/family member and when they see me in the background, they think I’m your new partner 68.  I really suck at my job but I desperately need the money and when I get fired for spilling your coffee all over you, you offer me a job because you feel bad 69.  we’re coworkers who make out in the supplies closet and get caught by another coworker (bonus if ot3!) 70.  someone enters my hot chocolate into a contest for the National Best Hot Chocolate and you’re the hot judge who gets snowed in town for a few days 71.  you join me at my table thinking I’m your blind date and you don’t stop talking about how nervous you are for this date so I don’t get a chance to tell you that you have the wrong person when your actual date comes up and thinks you were hitting on me while waiting for them 72.  I watch you pull out a flask and add alcohol to your drink and then you wink at me 73.  I’m playing a game on my computer but I keep failing at the level so you tap my shoulder and tell me how to beat it (and we spend the rest of the afternoon in the coffee shop bonding) 74.  I've been assigned a fluff article about the different types of people who spend their days at coffee shops but I can’t seem to figure out why you’re here (articles: x, x, x) 75.  I found you curled up under a blanket asleep at my front door so won’t you come in, I’ll get you some food and give you a job 76.  you’re my favourite actor in my favourite TV show but by the sounds of that phone call, you seem to be having a rough day so instead of flailing, I offer you some words of support 77.  I don’t know how to spell anyone’s names correctly so I spell them phonetically and you always mumble your name so I just make up something 78.  I bump into you and knock your coffee out of your hands and you look like someone just died because you’re having the worst week ever and can I make it up to you? 79.  we met online and you suggest this place for our first date and I’m terrified you’ve catfished me or you’re going to stand me up 80.  when people hit on me and ask for my number, I usually make up a number to put on their cups, and today I just happened to write your number on your cup so you call me out 81.  you’re my significant other’s ex and you’ve invited me to coffee to tell me that I can do better and our connection is immediate 82.  I’m in the middle of a rant about this book I’m reading and oh my god you’re the author in line behind me and I’m sorry, not sorry 83.  you take a selfie and I photobomb you, but you don’t notice until the entire photo goes viral so we agree to meet back at this coffee shop 84.  I’m sorry for laughing at you walking into the glass door/window, please let me help you up 85.  I’m a little concerned that you might be too addicted to coffee since you always come down from your office to my little shop to get your fix multiple times a day but my coworkers think you have a crush on me 86.  I’m expecting an important phone call but my phone is about to die and please, please let me borrow yours 87.  I know your sign says ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service’ but can I please give you a really long explanation as to what has led to me desperately needing coffee without a shirt or shoes 88.  I’m a witch barista and I charm your drink so that you have a better day 89.  I’ve been trying to borrow this particular book that the local/college library only has one copy of and I just realized you’re reading it at this coffee shop and goddammit, why haven’t you finished with it yet? 90.  some asshole just stole your purse/backpack without you noticing so I instinctively jump into action and chase him down the street to get it back for you 91.  you’ve cut in front of me in line for the last three days by shooting me a charming smile and leaving me a little dumbfounded but today, that will not fly 92.  I keep making work-related puns and you’re the grumpy coworker who refuses to find me charming 93.  you sit down at my table and quietly tell me to pretend we’re talking because you’re trying not to be seen by someone and I’m so confused as to what is going on but you’re cute so I’ll roll with it 94.  you order the same obscure drink from the app but I always miss you picking up your drink from the counter and today, I’m going to finally watch to see who you are 95.  I don’t know who you think you are, but you really can’t make this shop your office unless you’re going to order more than one tea for the eight hours you stay here 96.  you read tea leaves as a hobby so I always bring my cups to you when I’m finished 97.  you look like you’re having a bad day so I get some icing and draw a smiley face on your cookie 98.  I overheard you talking about how you wish my shop had board games so the next time you come in, I watch your reaction to my new shelf of board games 99.  you’re the very kind employee who brings me my favourite tea when you witness my public (and loud) breakup 100.  this coffee shop is owned and run by queer people and is so very gay with our decor and the names of our menu items, and I’m pretty sure you’re not as straight you think you are because you keep coming in and asking a thousand questions 101.  you dropped to your knee to tie your shoe but suddenly, people are congratulating us on getting engaged and we just scored free coffee so we roll with it 102. I’m wistfully watching a couple when you come up to the counter to order something and get frustrated with my daydreaming

#gpbb #gpbb prompt #coffee shop au #gpbb prompt: coffee shop au #trope of the day

[tracies-tales]

Letter by Letter

Dear Arin...

Dan’s pen paused. He pinched the tip and wiggled it as he surveyed his work. He’d written plenty of love songs in his day, comedy variety though they were. Writing out an actual love letter was basically second nature. Although, it wasn’t helping him get his feelings out and onto a tangible page as he’d hoped it would. He’d heard that pouring one’s soul out in words was a way that helped some people manage their emotions.

Looking at the letter again, Dan was pretty positive this had only deepened his infatuation.

It reminded him of everything he loved about Arin. It was filled end to end with the feelings that he tried to convey to Arin every day. Once he’d begun spilling the things he desperately wished he could find the courage to say out loud, he’d found it difficult to stop.

Because this letter also contained his terror.

As much as his heart was laid out in ink, so too was the underlying fear that this letter could mean the end of their friendship. He didn’t truly believe Arin would shun him if he knew how Dan felt, but he knew things would never be the same. Not really. You can’t just confess your undying love for a person and not experience a change one way or another. 

A sigh parted Dan’s lips as he folded the paper and laid it on his chest beneath his hand. Somewhere, deep down, a piece of him yearned to give Arin the letter. The worst that would probably happen was Arin would apologize and say he didn’t feel the same way. Then they would go back to their lives, recording Game Grumps sessions, laughing at dick jokes, doing his best to hide the pain behind a smile.

He shifted to lay down on the Grump couch, utilizing the space while everyone else was absorbed in their own projects. He rubbed his hands over his face and groaned into his palms. He tried to get himself to accept the fact that Arin’s gay jokes were just that--jokes. But he said them too often, the inflection of his tone always just lilted enough to make Dan’s heart flutter and his thoughts turn to static. The way Arin’s hand would always linger on Dan’s arm or shoulder, or ass, on special occasions, made Dan unable to help but wonder. 

“Whatcha got there?” Arin asked.

Dan jumped and snatched the letter off his chest, crumpling it into his fist. “What’s what?” he asked, far too quickly to be convincing. He hadn’t even heard the door to the studio open.

Arin’s eyebrows shot skyward. “Ooohhh, secrety secrets?” he prompted as he shut the door behind him.

Dan snorted, unable to help but chuckle at his tone. He figured he might as well play along. “Yes, the tippitiest toppest of secrets.”

“My favorite kind!” Arin walked over. Dan didn’t miss the way his eyes glanced to Dan’s hands as he sat up.

Dan shook a finger at him, “No siree, they’re secrets for a reason, Ar.”

A pout immediately overtook his features. They almost made Dan feel guilty enough to show him right then. “Dannyyy,” Arin whined, sitting next to him and leaning heavily into his shoulder. “Come on, at least give me a hint.”

Dan hated when he called him Danny--it was so damn cute. “Dude, cut it out,” he smiled, ruffling Arin’s hair with his free hand. 

“Not until you tell me,” Arin looked up at him.

Dan pursed his lips. He was distracted just long enough by Arin’s puppy eyes for the letter to be snatched from his grip. “Hey!” Dan yelped, leaning to try to grab it back.

Arin stretched his arm to its maximum limit and leaned away from him, holding the paper out of reach. “Dan, come on, how bad can it be?”

“It’s just stupid song lyrics!�� Dan blurted, immediately cursing himself for such a blatant lie.

“You’re never ashamed to show me your ideas for new lyrics,” Arin retorted. However, he relented and shifted back up, holding the letter out. Dan grabbed it, but it felt like some otherworldly force was stopping his hand from yanking it away.

Dan frowned down at it, refusing to meet Arin’s eyes. “I know,” he said, feeling his cheeks warm up with a tingling blush. 

“So...what is it?” Arin asked, his tone much less jovial than it was a minute ago.

Dan bit his lip. He shut his eyes and said, “It’s...a letter. To you.”

That made Arin’s brows knit in confusion. “To me?” 

“To you.”

“So why the hell were you so adamantly against showing it to me?”

“Because, I-” Dan’s voice got caught in his throat. “I wasn’t...sure if I was ready for you to know,” he replied, letting the paper go.

Arin glanced to his hand and back up to him. Waiting for approval. Dan grinned in spite of himself, through all the roiling fear tearing his guts apart; he was touched that Arin was actually double checking to make sure he had permission. Dan nodded, but he couldn’t meet Arin’s eyes. He tucked his knees up to hug them as he heard the crinkle of the paper being unfolded and straightened out. Then Arin began to read aloud, which only made Dan’s grip on his legs tighten.

“Dear Arin, 

Where do I begin? I guess all letters have to start somewhere. So here it is, greatest intro to a letter there ever was. Smooth, Avidaniel

How was I supposed to know? I need to stop starting lines with questions How could I have known how big of a part you were going to play in my life? 

Maybe it was your charming smile. Maybe it was your musical resounding laugh. Maybe it was the way you wanted me, a 38 year old nobody, to be your Game Grumps partner in crime. I don’t fucking know, but somehow you took a hold of me and never let me go.

No amount of words in pen, text, audio recording, or verbal assault will ever be able to quantify what it means to me. What you mean to me. Because, fuck dude, you mean the world. 

You deserve everything you have. I mean it. The internet popularity, the lovelies, the job, you’ve worked your ass off for this. Everyone is so proud of what you’ve accomplished, and I couldn’t be happier or luckier to get to see you shine so brightly. I don’t care that the spotlight isn’t on me--you’re more of a star than I’ll ever be.

Shit, I’m running out of paper already. Curse my own large-print hubris! 

I suppose there is one way I could have summed this up rather than write a whole ass essay about the subject.

What I’ve been struggling to write this whole time, because once I’ve written it I’ll know for sure it’s true:

I love you, Arin. 

Nothing’s ever going to change that, whether or not you do, too. 

You can count on it, Big Cat.”

The silence in the room that followed gnawed at Dan’s stomach like acid. Maybe giving him the letter wasn’t the best idea after all. Was he mad? No, he was probably thinking of the gentlest way to turn him down. The waiting was agonizing, driving Dan insane.

The horrendous ache was quelled by Arin’s arms wrapping around him. They encompassed Dan entirely, legs and all, into a snug embrace. Dan was shocked enough that he forgot to adjust to help as Arin hauled him into his lap. The paper had left Arin’s hand and fluttered to the floor.

A sniffle made Dan turn his head. “Arin? Are...are you crying?” he asked.

“Fuck you, what do you mean am I crying?” Arin laughed, the sound broken up with gentle sobs. “How the fuck am I s’posed to read shit like that and not get emotional?”

“I’m...fuck man, I’m sorry, I didn’t even mean to give it to you, I...”

“So you were just gonna bottle it up like some kind of dumbass?”

Dan blinked, “What?”

“Like I haven’t been hinting this at you for years,” he scoffed. “Years, Daniel! I spent this entire damn time thinking the same shit, more or less.”

Dan was dumbfounded. He felt tears start to well up in his eyes, as well, “Really?”

“Of c--of course really! What the hell do you think I was implying? I was hitting on you but really what I wanted was to bang Ross?”

The curse of the static-brain returned. “Hitting on me?”

“Holy fuck, you really were clueless,” Arin laughed, snuggling his face into Dan’s shoulder. He sniffled again and said, “This is only about a couple years too late, but I love you too, Dan.”

Warmth blossomed in Dan’s chest, and his heart raced with no indication of slowing any time soon. He had succumbed to tears as well, beaming at Arin before he shifted his torso and threw his arms around his neck. When Arin lifted his head in curiosity at the adjusted posture, Dan pulled him into a kiss. 

When they parted, Dan noticed Arin now shared his blush. “I’m glad,” Dan said, unsure that he could manage to say anything else.

They both turned their heads when they heard the door opening to Ross, who said, “Woah, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.” His gaze drifted to the floor as he noticed the letter. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” Dan and Arin said.

cliche? maybe a little

regrets? none

this was inspired by the book “to all the boys i’ve loved before" :) ps i know dan’s 39 i just picked 38 bc idk

edit: this additional little note is to let y’all know i really am taking writing suggestions almost always so if you have ideas or a prompt from somewhere else you want me to tackle, pitch it to me! the worst i can do is say no (and I probably won’t, unless it’s too terribly nsfw) :D

#egobang #ficlet #fluff #love letter

[sieben9]

“the final battle” impressions

{Quick request to anyone reading: I’m watching OUaT for the first time, and I want to avoid spoilers. So, if you want to discuss something spoilery, I’d be grateful if you could start a new post for that. Thank you!}

Ah Once, what am I going to do with you?

I mean, this episode was definitely an Experience™, that much is certain. Just… ::sighs::

Look, if I try to sum it up, I think the best I can do is “this was twenty minutes of a really good finale stuck inside a rushed ninety-minute wtf-fest. Also, those twenty minutes belong to a totally different season.

this is the sort of thing you’ve got to foreshadow at least a LITTLE

The acting was pretty damn good, though.

(Fair warning: don’t open this on mobile, there’s a ridiculous amount of pictures under the cut)

OK. So. Couple of things that I really liked up front, so I can gripe in peace later on. (And readers can skip whatever part they wish ; )

First, and I realise this is a weird thing to enjoy, but I loved how utterly despicable I found Fiona in this one. She may have hung around like a bad smell for most of the season without really doing much, but she sure stepped up her game for the occasion.

Seriously, if Rumple hadn’t killed her, I would have found a way. “Our son”, indeed.

Though, please, have some pity on the poor guy. At this point, he has killed both his parents, and one of them twice. That can’t be good for anyone.

oh look the wall robots are still there

And speaking of Rumple… dang, that was a good scene in the mines. What I loved most about it was that this was literally all him. Nobody would ever know what he did in there if he didn’t tell them, except for himself, and he still made the right choice. Despite being offered everything he ever wanted, despite being under the influence of his curse just as much as ever…

before you ask, yes, my mind did go Places

…and more literally than it’s usually shown. Well done, pal. I should probably be more excited about this, but despite the tense buildup, I feel like the scene kind of fizzled as a whole. Maybe because he already made the exact same choice earlier, and was just confirming that he really meant it, too. Still, it was a good moment, and I was very proud of this walking human disaster by the time it was done.

Some more on the topic of Rumple: congratulations on his acting skills. Rumple’s, not Robert Carlyle’s, specifically. Because there’s no way in hell I could have seen these photos…

…and kept a straight face. Honestly, I’m half convinced that they were a test by Fiona to see if he was awake after all.

Oh, and the book!

The book made it across! And you know why? Because Belle and her son have True Love, even if Gideon cannot remember that, because Fiona is The Worst. And Rumple worked so hard to make Gideon remember; it was heartbreaking to see. I mean, he had to do that for… what? Five hours? And he still couldn’t stand the thought that Gideon might believe his mother didn’t love him. It was a good scene, OK?

On a sillier note (but still unambiguously positive): Emma’s wardrobe came back for the finale!

I don’t know, it’s just nice to see.

Other things I loved a lot:

Any and all interactions between Regina and her now-settled other half. Just. Pure joy, even in the midst of the wtf-ery. And with the obvious standout-moment when the Queen goes and sacrifices herself to give the others that tiny bit of time they need to get back to their world and help Henry (and Emma, but I think we all know who the priority was in this case)

Just… damn. I’m still worried about this woman’s self-destructive streak in general, but this was a good moment. (It also helps that she got better. ‘cause that could have been really depressing otherwise.)

Oh, and since we’re speaking of Regina (or the Reginas, plural), I absolutely adored the speech she gave Emma. Just… I mean, I expect the hope speeches from Snow (and that one was pretty good, too), but this? I mean… wow. Please compare and contrast with season 1. Except you don’t have to, because Regina already did that, and it was beautiful.

Then we have an actual mirrored TLK (see below for a botched version…) in this very good moment:

Like, yes, I love bookends, and this was a great one. Calling back to the “holy crap why didn’t I see this coming” kiss in s1 worked surprisingly well, considering how little interaction Emma and Henry had this season, but there’s enough material in the show in general to make me buy into this. Like I said: sucker for bookends.

In general, I feel like this episode was at its strongest whenever re-focused on the family relationships between the characters.

And to close it out, the ending montage.

Just... it’s like Snow said. They get to live their happy endings now. Snowing finally have the time to be a proper family (and David got a dog!). Regina is accepted and loved by her people (and the Queen gets to have a completely “new adventure”, as Robin so aptly put it.) Snow can do what she loves and doesn’t have to fight all the time anymore. And Emma finally has a place in the world; one where she can settle and be comfortable and doesn’t have to be alone anymore... and I’ll just leave it at that. It’s a good ending.

And no, I haven’t forgotten it--obvious special mention to this bit here:

Yup. Killed me dead. And I died happy, thank you very much. They’ve been through so much bullshit, and now they can be together, and raise their son in peace, and won’t be really worried when he doesn’t stop growing, either.

I also want to give a special shoutout to the five six people who immediately made sure that I knew that 1) the kiss wasn’t scripted and 2) we, as a fandom, are extremely lucky to have Robert and Emilie. (For those who haven’t seen the interview in question, it’s here, and here)

The finishing dinner was nice, too, even if I’m not sure what the whole Last Supper imagery was supposed to do.

Listen, I’ve been going “just let them be happy!” for way too long to complain much when they finally are. Also, I could write an essay on the range of emotions Rumple goes through when he comes through that door and people are actually happy to see him and his family. Or about that look that passes between him and Regina, because I caught that and it made me cry! I don’t think either of them ever imagined they would really be this happy again when they first met and they’ve been through so much crap and just... guh. I like this. It’s a good closing shot.

And now, the rest.

Because frankly, this wasn’t a great finale. It wasn’t even that good of an episode. It was everything wrong with the 4B finale, only more of that.

For example: What was the deal with making Emma lose her belief? Since when was her belief required for the magical realms to exist? The only person who’s ever had even something approaching that function was Henry. She didn’t need to believe in magic to keep it alive, she needed it to break the curse.

And this was never set up as the Black Fairy’s plan. Not even a little. This came so out of left field, it wasn’t even in the same stadium! And it’s so frustrating, because this wasn’t a bad plot, as such, but there was no build-up, no real payoff, nothing. Or, let me put it differently: this was a perfectly fine plot resolution, it just had no business being attached to this season.

Everything felt rushed, there were about five dozen plot points, none of them with any time to breathe and somehow, we still got that terminally boring climb up the bean stalk.Sorry, David, you know I love you, but what was the point of that sidetrack? Nothing happened. There was no try-and-fail cycle (because there wasn’t time for one) and honestly, if you needed a handwave for how they got back from the magical realms, maybe you could have gone with a less time intensive one?

And that moment where Snow kisses David back to life? Yeah, unearned, again. And dear show: the cut-in from the first episode worked for the split-heart curse, because you were subverting it. But here? It just didn’t do anything. This wasn’t a parallel. David wasn’t cursed, he was crushed by a beanstalk.

And speaking of things that don’t make sense…

For the love of fuck. Her ankle? Really? This is such a cliché that even the slasher genre doesn’t do it anymore. And it’s a dumb cliché, too. It’s rooted sexism and it makes it look like you didn’t have any other ideas. I get it, you don’t want Belle with Rumple at that final point so she doesn’t influence his decision. Here’s a thought, then: let her stay behind for a good reason! Or, hell, if you don’t want to write a scene for her (the writers sure seem to be allergic to giving Belle any screentime), let there be a fork in the road! They don’t have the time to check each one, let Belle go one way and Rumple another. It’s still a lazy plot excuse, but at least it’s not the stupidest cliché in the book.

And one more thing…

::sigh:: I have such mixed feelings about this?

Because on the one hand: Gideon had a life that nobody would want. He was kidnapped, imprisoned, kept in the dark and abused for all of his twenty-eight years, and even if he got free, he would never get that time back. Nobody would ever choose that for themselves.

At the same time… Gideon died. The person I got to know over the last half-season is no more. He’s gone. And he never had any say in the matter. Hell, he didn’t even get to say goodbye. It’ just such a messed-up way to get a wonderful thing.

(Also, while I’m on that topic… yes, I did notice that Rumple didn’t recognise his very tiny son at first, and I realise that it’s because he’s never seen him before. It prompted a particularly long “oh noo…”, too.)

And finally…

… that cliffhanger/teaser, though, huh?

I have so many questions. Why was Henry in that monster forest? Why is he now in an apartment and doesn’t remember his daughter? When did he get a daughter? (Also, who with? Enquiring minds would like to know.)

So. I know, like, three things about s7, and one of them is the cast list. Please try not to spoil anything else, because that’s already way more than I wanted to know going in. Seriously, I’m a reasonably grown adult. I can deal with a couple of surprises.

#ouat #once upon a time #ouat the final battle #sieben watches ouat #sieben talks #ouat writing critical #anti cs #anti hook #(by implication mostly)

[mj-spooks]

Tag Meme: 10 Badass Ladies

rReally the prompt was just ‘ten favorite female characters in different fandoms’ but my female favorites are automatically badass so there @not-actually-ur-sassygayfriend I hope you enjoy

1. Minerva McGonagall, Harry Potter. Okay, look, Jo’s done and said some really stupid shit the last couple of years but I stand by Minnie, aka the one thing she did right (well one of two things, Hagrid also exists). McGonagall takes no shit and gets shit done. She loves fiercely but doesn’t let that love make her weak or afraid, instead she turns it into the strength she needs to do what’s right. Truly an idol. #goals

2. Harley Quinn, DC. It should be no secret to anyone that I love me some Harley. Right off the bat lemme be clear, I do not ship her with Joker. I stand firmly on the ground that, as I’ve seen said before, he is her origin story, not her love interest. And what an origin story! Harley is awesome. She’s wicked smart, smarter than most anyone thinks because she never lets on so that she can use it to her advantage later. She’s been through a lot of shit and deserves credit for how hard she’s worked to come out on top.

3. Michonne, The Walking Dead (tv). Don’t get me wrong, I love her in the comics too, I’m just not as into that version. The show version, on the other hand, is everything I wish I could be in the zombie apocalypse (and everything I know I would totally not even remotely be). She’s strong, determined, loyal, brave, I could go on. And in spite of everything she’s been through, she manages to retain her empathy and her heart. She loves just as hard as she fights.

4. Parker, Leverage. First of all, every character on Leverage is the best character. So it’s a hard fight for me to choose between Parker and Sophie. But, at the end of the day, I love Parker in a way I don’t love Sophie, because when it all starts out she doesn’t even remotely have her shit together. She’s a mess. She’s awkward as hell and has no social skills, highly intelligent and yet exceptionally naive, and overall can someone please just give her all the hugs she ever should’ve gotten in her childhood because for real. Watching her grow and learn to let people in as the show progresses warms my soul. Also, she’s frikkin adorable.

5. Cordelia Chase, Buffyverse. This one was also hard! I love all my Buffy ladies in different ways. That said, I think Cordy was the one that had the strongest growth up until Joss Whedon got pissy and fucked her character over. She started out as the typical Queen Bee Bitch and through trials and tribulations and generally being forced to look in the mirror, grew into a kind, generous person. She never entirely lost her her roots, of course, but those little moments of shallowness or vapidness just managed to make her endearing once she grew beyond them being her entire personality.

6. Peggy Carter, MCU. I could honestly write an essay on all the reasons I love Peggy and why the cancellation of her show was the worst thing ever. What can I say, I admire strong ladies who don’t take shit. She’s brilliantly snarky, quick as a whip, can hold her own in a fight, what’s not to love? The way she fights for what’s right, the fact that she doesn’t hesitate to break rules when she knows it needs to be done, how much she genuinely cares about everything and everybody, she’s just all around great.

7. GladOS, Portal. Does it count if the lady is an AI? I SAY IT DOES. GladOS is the queen of snark, and I bow before her. Portal is my favorite video game of all time and it is entirely thanks to how much I abso-frikkin-lutely love the antagonist. I read somewhere that the original version of the game, GladOS was so mean that playtesters didn’t want to keep going, so they had to re-write her dialogue to make her nicer. It is my one wish in life to somehow gain access to and play the original version. Also her backstory is heartbreaking without taking away anything from her actual character and that’s something I admire the writers for.

8. Tiny Tina, Borderlands. Another one where I wasn’t sure which lady to choose. I love all the characters in this series because they’re just. They’re the best. Overall favorite is Handsome Jack who I swear I ought to be able to put for this just because he’s such a drama queen, but that would be breaking the rules. ANYWAY Tina is great. Normally this type of character bothers me, because it’s really hard to write it in a way that feels genuine. But, the writers of Borderlands pulled it off. Somehow, this homicidal little girl manages to be equal parts vicious and innocent, sweet and scary. I just want to give her a hug.... while praying she doesn’t try to kill me when I do it.

9. Alya, Miraculous Ladybug. The best friend in the world. 10/10 would die for, because I know if she were my best friend she’d die for me. Always there to help Marinette and is seriously just amazing. A little crazy and a lot determined, her stubbornness knows no bounds. She is the poster child for not backing down. Snarky and doesn’t let Marinette wallow in her insecurity, instead bolsters her up through a good mix of teasing and genuine encouragement.

10. Leia Organa, Star Wars. Seriously who else would I choose?! I grew up with Star Wars. Star Wars was my entire childhood (not really but close). I found out when I was five years old that I had the same birthday as Carrie Fisher and from that moment on all I cared about was being Princess Leia. The ultimate badass team mom, clever and smart and strong and a little broken, but she never let anything stop her. She kept on keeping on even in the darkest of moments. Honestly I’m a little in tears right now thinking of how much this woman means to me.

Tagging time! @getclever @mightyxray @solembum22 @charbonne01 @trilobytes-and-trilonybbles @sarahsshoelaces @glowing-and-confused @dftblove @rawrcandycore @ninawolv3rina

[calummwhatchasay]

I Think We Have a Connection (C.H.)

College sucks. Everyone says that but like, college really fucking sucks. The university you’re at is great, no really, it is, but it only guarantees housing for freshmen and sophomores. So you’ve been forced to move into an overpriced apartment that’s overcrowded with college kids, way too many of whom like to party when you’re trying to write because, like the idiot you are, you decided to major in English. Yes, you love to write, and read, and study the English language, but trying to go through the creative process is really hard when all you can focus on is trying to figure out whether the pounding in your skull is the bass from the floor above you or your headache.

One upside of living around college students, though, is that everyone in your building is in your age range, meaning cute people aren’t always so hard to come by. And there was this one guy... Calum.

Maybe two weeks after you moved in, your next door neighbor moved out, which was a relief. The guy was a creep and an ass. He would come over early in the morning and ask for the randomest crap, just to see you in your pajamas. The other reason his departure was so nice was that the newest denizen was Calum. And well, Calum was something else. By something else, you mean a god. (And he’s a music major. How hot is that?) If only could get your head out of your ass long enough to form a coherent sentence around him.

-

It’s around seven in the evening and you’re working on your latest Creative Writing assignment. A song. You’re not exactly a rhyming genius. To be honest, you hated creative writing until someone told you not every poem has to rhyme. But songs, songs do. Songs rhyme. You sit at your computer, staring at the word document in front of you. So far you’ve got six lines:

‘I once saw a cat Eating its scat It was nast -Y and blast That Nasty cat’

Not your best work. At all. Ever. If you could burn your computer without being out nearly a thousand dollars, you would be poking a burning log with a stick.

You’re having trouble with rhyming, right? Okay, what’s a word that has a lot of rhymes. Blue. Pew. Ew. New. Glue. Shoe. Cue. Queue. ‘Queue’ is such a dumb word. Why are there so many ‘ue’s. You only need one. You don’t even need one. Just the letter works. Both are pronounced “Q”. It’s like the ‘ay’ in ‘okay’. Useless.

Like your brain, apparently.

You just, you need a nap. A long nap. Or a break. You could go for a 3 month nap. That’s why summer vacation exists, though. Oh, vacation. How you love vacation. No frustrations, just rest. Hey, wait. Vacation, frustration. Um, motivation. Elation. Imitation. Corporation. Migration. Collectivization. Oh hell yeah, this is it.

‘Collectivization In our nation Isn’t good for Future generations

No corporations Just calculations One advantage Is no inflation

Emigration Deportation Were the same ‘Cos of Stalin’s regulations

Imitation In other nations The reason for the USSR’s creation’

That is simultaneously the worst and best thing you have ever written. You also have literally no tune for it, but the cadence didn’t suck and it rhymed, so you were going to print it out. If you didn’t come up with anything better, you were going to turn it in too. You print the document, but, as per usual, it doesn’t fucking print. Why does your printer never work? You think it might be the connection between the printer and the computer. You knew you shouldn’t have gotten a wireless one but the stupid salesman convinced you it would ‘work better in the long run’ and ‘all the biggest corporations use them’. You sigh and try printing again, to no avail. You figure you’ll just go to bed and try again in the morning.

The next morning you wake, feeling much better. Until you remember your Creative Writing assignment. Well, those thirty seconds were quite possibly the best thirty seconds of your life. You rummage around your kitchen, looking for some eggs or something to cook up. You quickly come across some old boxed pancake mix, and figure, why the hell not? As you finish cooking and realize that goddamit you’re out of paper plates again, you hear strumming from next door. You sigh quietly, listening to Calum hum a tune.

After a couple of minutes, he strums the guitar again. He pauses, and then begins to strum in earnest.

“Collectivization In our nation”

Your eyes widen and you nearly drop your pancakes as you sprint across the room, faster than someone in slippery socks ought to on a tile floor. Your hands grapple with the lock for a second before you’re standing in the hall pounding a nervous beat into Calum’s door.

He opens the door, and for just a second you’re taken aback by the fact that he looks absolutely gorgeous in a t-shirt and basketball shorts.

“Um, Y/N? Did you need something?” He prompts, eyeing your pancakes suspiciously.

“What? Oh, er, yea.” Blood makes its way to your cheeks in an embarrassing beet-red blush. “Yea, about that. Where did you get that?”

“Get what?”

“That, well, song, for lack of a better word.”

“Oh! The one about Stalin. Can you hear my music through the wall? I’m sorry about that. I didn’t disturb you, did I?”

“No, no. I was cooking.” You hold up the four pancakes your’re holding. Without a plate. Buddha, Mary, and Allah, you look like a fool. Oh well. “But, uh, the song.”

“Right. Is it yours? My printer printed it.”

“Oh my god.” You groan. “I’m so sorry you had to read that.”

“It’s really not that bad.”

“You don’t have to say that. It really is.”

He bites his lip before conceding, “Yea, it’s not the greatest. So, wait, is all that random shit that’s been printing to my printer been yours?”

“Like what?”

“Lots of short stories.”

“You haven’t been reading those, have you?”

“Maybe just a few?”

“God.”

“They’re good!”

“You said that about my, er, song.”

“But those are actually good!” You just sigh deeply. “Do you want to come in?” He asks.

“Yea. Yea, sure.”

“So why are you even writing songs?”

“Creative Writing class.”

“Right. Do you want a plate?”

“Yea, that would be nice. I’m out.” You follow him to the kitchen.

He rummages through the cabinet before pulling out a (not paper! wow, classy) plate and handing it to you. “So... Stalin.”

“Always a conversation starter.” Calum laughs at your comment, and you look down, hiding your blush under the ruse of putting your pancakes on your plate. Your heart flutters, knowing you made this adorable boy laugh like that. “But yea. I can’t really, like, rhyme? And then I started thinking about how I just want to go on like, a fucking vacation, you know? Sorry, don’t mind my language. But, yea, I was just rhyming with the word vacation, and uh, collectivization popped into my head, and apparently I don’t actually care about my Creative Writing grade.”

“It’s unique, undoubtedly.”

“I’m just going to pretend that’s a compliment.”

“No, I’m not insulting you, I swear. Do you want me to help you, maybe? I’m a music major.” (which you definitely didn’t already know that from stalking all of his social media)

“I think I could use the help.”

The two of you spend the morning hunched over various notebooks, music sheets, and his guitar trying to find something that doesn’t suck.

“Okay, are you ready?” He looks up at you from one of the many lyric sheets sprawled about his table.

“Frustration, desperation They say I need some sort of medication Situation, no motivation Destination, permanent vacation”

“Holy shit, I think I love you.” You stare at him in awe, before your mind catches up with your mouth. “In a totally platonic, neighbor kind of way.” You mumble to your chest.

“Hey, they were your ideas, I just put them to music.” He’s not wrong, per se, the pair of you had spent the majority of the morning discussing where the idea had stemmed from - how you wanted a vacation. Still...

“No, my idea was talking about Stalin and the creation of the USSR.”

“Hey! Don’t discount educational music.” You just kind of raise your eyebrows at him and he concedes, “Okay, so it wasn’t great. But this is as much your work as mine!”

“Thanks Calum. I appreciate it. I was thinking though - not that I don’t love it as it is - but what if we changed a couple of the lyrics, just for fluidity.”

“Please.” Calum hands you the lyric sheet he’s been reading off of, and you shouldn’t care half as much as you do when your hands brush.

“Um, what about ‘They say I need some kind of medication’?” You bring your upper lip into your mouth, thinking. “Er- this is an idea.” You look up at him. “If I’ve learned nothing in my Creative Writing class, I’ve learned that people are more engaged when you address them directly. ‘You say I need some kind of medication / Situation, no motivation / Destination, permanent vacation.” You smile up at him.

“I like that, yea. It gives it a rebellious edge, sort of. What if we, like, almost counter-argued that for the next bit?”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Keep the rebellion but sort of go with the classic, ‘I feel like I’m dying, but I’m fine.’”

“Alright, hit me.” You nod. Calum cocks his head, thinking.

“What if we just... go for it.

Hey, I’m doin’ fine”

“Okay, and the rebellion, a sort of ‘I-know-I’m-pissing-you-off-and-I-couldn’t-care-less.” You prompt.

“And, I’m out of line?” He says it more like a question than a statement.

“That has a bit of an awkward cadence...” You trail off.

“Hey, I’m doin’ fine And I know I’m out of line”

“Yes, perfect!” He exclaims.

“And, okay, a call to action is good in like an essay so, why not?

Let’s sing this one more time”

“It goes Destination, permanent vacation”

“Yes, oh my god, I could kiss you.” You grin.

He pauses a second, and then, “Why don’t you?”

“What?”

“Kiss me. Why don’t you?”

“Um... I guess...” You look down, fiddling with your hands, “I could?” When you look back up, he’s feet closer than he was a moment ago.

“Would you?”

“Yea. Yea, I would.” And you press your lips to his, but you can’t get a proper kiss in because the both of you are grinning like fools.

“You’re really cute, you know?” He smiles at you. 

You hum in response, and then, before you can stop it, “I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you move in.” And you put a hand on his cheek and lock your lips with his.

(Oh, and you got an A.)

MASTERLIST

#ch #calum hood imagine #5sos #5sos imagine #calum hood #calum au #college!calum #calum 5 seconds of summer #calum 5sos #5sos au #michael clifford #michael 5 seconds of summer #luke hemmings #luke 5sos #michael 5sos #luke 5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin #ashton 5sos #ashton 5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer #5sos preference #5sosfam