#i wrote that in like half an hour after a saw a prompt on twitter

[fireheartwraith]

I just realised the one shot i made in 2019 has almost 4.5k hits 😳

Is this fame?

#would it be weird to answer the comments now? #i'm sorry i just posted it and forgot about it after a week #i wrote that in like half an hour after a saw a prompt on twitter #basically rick had posted the Christmas special on his site and someone said 'omg someone pls write a fic' so i did that #then i sent the link to that person and they said they liked it #end of story #kind of #i did try to make fanart of this oc-but-not-really i made for the fic #so it's wild to think that so many people read it!! #there's even some bookmarks!! #to think that almost 30 people liked something i wrote so much they actually bookmarked it is insane #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjhoo #pjo fanfic #ao3 #fanfiction

[souglias]

People Say To Take Things One Step At A Time For A Reason [GINTOKI]

OR: Gintoki makes a dire mistake about you in his drunken state

Gintoki x f!reader

c/w: gintoki has been drinking, alcohol mention, use of pet names (but for humour effect), all fluff no angst :>

word count: 1.2k

note: something I wrote for fun and sheesh finally a fluffy gintoki fic rather than my usual bittersweet fics. For my followers who saw my post about a gintoki multi-chapter fic a while ago, just in case you thought this is it, this is not it. Inspired by this (I couldn't find the image from the original artist's twitter 0-(-( )

All likes and reblogs are appreciated!

-

The phone rings at your bookstore at 1am as you're finishing up some administrative logs. It must be a prank for a call that’s way beyond opening hours. Even if it isn't, you decide you don't want to deal with queries at this time. The phone quietens after 5 rings.

Not long later, the phone starts ringing again. It sounds like urgent business for someone to be calling a bookstore twice in the middle of the night.

"Hello, this is Kabukicho books. How can I help you?"

An all-too-familiar voice comes out from the receiver. His words are slurred and you press the receiver to your ears as you strain to listen to him.

"Heyy, are you free for... dinner?"

"Gintoki. It is long past dinner."

"Dinner is any time after lunch and before breakfast."

"I want to sleep and you should too."

You hear whining from the other end of the phone. "Can't you have at least a parfait with me? We haven't met in a while!"

Is this a secret, roundabout cry for help from him? Coming from the very lips of Gintoki, those words feel like stark yellow paint on a white wall.

Regardless, you are a little concerned he's going to die in a ditch somewhere instead of making it home. Even if he's gotten this drunk multiple times before he called you today. 

He prompts you again with a "hello" before you hear some crashing on the other side.

You suppose once is fine. It is a solid reason to see the person you harbour feelings for. On top of that, he's right that the two of you have not seen each other for a while. And just maybe, it is a sign that he chose to call you out of everyone else.

(Okay but maybe you're just being delusional. Who else he could even call? Kagura would simply smash the ringing phone at this hour. If he calls up the Shimura household, Otae would tell him to die rather than let her younger brother pick him up.)

You sigh, "Where are you now?"

He hums a little before telling you the bar he visited. You pack up your work (that is still 1% unfinished) and head out into the cold winter night to find him. Gintoki should thank his lucky stars that you like him, otherwise, you would have left him to freeze. Almost no one gets to interrupt your work.

You easily find the telephone booth near the bar he patronised. As you approach the telephone booth, you see a scene you find somewhat humorous. He's bent over backwards in the cramped space, face pressed against the clear glass of the booth and feet propped against the other side. His eyes are closed, mouth slightly open with drool.

Taking out your phone, you snap a photo of him before you knock on the door. He's so ridiculously unsightly, but it endears you.

One eye of his cracks open and his lips upturn. You swing the door open and give him an unamused look. That doesn't shake his half-lidded eyes and a wide smile.

"Yo, you pretty thing."

Your heart skips a beat. Gintoki is possessed, or he's lost it. All Gintoki has been calling you is an ugly hag and a shit-faced bitch. To call you pretty is... out of this world.

"You're way too fucking drunk. Get out of there by yourself, I'm not helping you."

As he twists and turns to get himself out of that difficult position, he whines again. "Help me, woman! You can do this little thing for me right?”

Seeing him struggle, you decide to milk this scene. “Well, who am I for you to assume this is ‘little’?”

“My girlfriend.”

You're sure your face is visibly red at this point, and your heart is beating in your throat. You manage to stammer out, "What?"

"You're my girlfriend duh!" He exclaims without an ounce of doubt in his statement.

He's lost it. He's lost it.

"Since when? Huh? Huh? Why was I not informed about this?"

"Huh? Why are you-"

Gintoki freezes and he narrows his eyes at you. It dawns on him that you are not his girlfriend. 

To be precise, he has not asked you to be his girlfriend. 

Suddenly, he's able to stand upright in the phone booth. He remains rooted there, his body turned away from you. What has he done? His heart beats at a thousand per hour and he thinks he might collapse.

"Did you mistake me for a girlfriend or something? Anyway, you should have told us you have one."

He could pretend to black out now. Or maybe he should try to be smooth.

"Well, no... I don't. I just forgot I wasn't in the future, that's all!"

Gintoki timidly looks over his shoulder to check your reaction. From the puzzled look on your face, he fucked it. He doesn't even remember the exact pick-up line if one like this actually existed. Something about a girlfriend but in the future. 

"What are you talking about..."

He averts his gaze again. The obvious way to clarify everything is to be honest with you. It's that easy. It's that easy. But he can't say it. Even in his half-intoxicated state, he feels like he'll keel over saying those three or five words. He did plan to say it some time, but not in this manner.

You watch his broad back slowly shrink inwards, and you hear him mumble something you don't catch. A gut feeling fills your chest. You breathe, slowly regaining your composure. Meanwhile, he decides he should pretend to black out.

"Look, if you wanted me to be your girlfriend, you should have asked me first. I would have said yes. Don't skip steps, please. I'd like some order."

Already amid Operation Pretend-To-Collapse, Gintoki falls backwards and lands on the ground. But his eyes are wide open instead of shut as he lies on the ground, searching for a sign of a joke from you. You lower into a crouch, continuing to stare into his bewildered eyes. 

“So, what will it be, darling?” 

The weight you put on what you just called him makes him shudder. His face is too distractingly hot compared to his body for him to come up with any kind of retort. He mumbles again with his eyes looking elsewhere. 

“Huh? I can’t hear you, you have to speak up.” 

Words come out in a murmur. All you hear is the word “girlfriend” but you egg him more. “What?? Is this all you got, Sakata Gintoki??”

His hand reaches for your face and he pulls you towards him, pressing your lips against his. You can smell a sweet alcohol scent on him. When you pull away, you find a fiery, intense gaze in his eyes.

“You’re my girlfriend now, stupid.”

Just like that, he renders you speechless. But a smile tugs on the corner of your lips, and you stifle a laugh.

Gintoki picks himself up from the ground, still a little woozy. You grab his arm to steady him, then decide to wrap your arm around his back. He stiffens slightly but eases into your arm for support. When he rests his arm around your shoulders, both of you begin the journey to his home.

“Just so you know, I have unfinished work thanks to your ‘little’ favour. You owe me now. Maybe you should be the one buying me a parfait instead, honeypie.”

He glances at you only for a moment, unamused, before he turns away. You laugh, getting a kick from the whole night of teasing your friend-turned-boyfriend. Suddenly, you stop laughing.

“You didn’t throw up before you met me right?”

“I didn’t.”

Disgust starts creeping onto your face. “Are you sure? Are you sure?”

“I didn’t, you shit.”

#gintoki x reader #sakata gintoki x reader #sakata gintoki imagines #sakata gintoki #gintama x reader #gintama writing #gintama imagines #gintama #souglia.s #the way i had titled this 'confess your love for me' in my google docs #also fun fact this idea has been sitting in my drafts for a while #and it was inspired by a particular piece of pinterest art that has him drunk and bent over in a telephone booth

[raindownforme]

omg omg ok ok so maybe for a request charlie and the reader and how they interact as streamers?? like a friends to lovers au but you can tell how they fall in love through all their interactions online & in games (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

like for example whenever they play on the smp charlie only reaaallly wants to help the reader and when anyone else asks he’s like hm? what? IT JUST SEEMED CUTE IN MY HEAD ☹️💌

Lore

Charlie slimecicle x reader [they/them used]

“Hello twitchers.” y/n smiled into the face cam, watching the chat fly by a mile a minute. They knew they’d draw in a larger audience today, it being their first official stream on the Dream SMP. They loaded up the game, spawning in a wooded area surrounded by cobblestone. “Alright where do we- hello?”

y/n leaned closer to the screen. They could see someone standing behind a tree. Someone in glasses and green blotchy skin. They typed into the in-game chat, trying to get who ever it was to come closer. Thankfully they did, revealing a character named Slimecicle. y/n looked over to the discord server, pulling themselves into a voice channel with the mystery person.

“Hi there!” Slimecicle’s voice rang through y/n’s headphones and they smiled. They liked the sound of his voice. “Im Charlie. Welcome.”

“Thanks. Do you know how to get anywhere?”

“Yeah!” Charlie’s character jumped as y/n followed after him. Charlie led them to a snowy mountainside that had been covered with sand. Someone had built a white mansion and several other buildings, including a fountain and a tall tower. “This is where I live.”

“This mansion?” y/n panned to look around the mountainside. They glanced over to watch their chat fly by.

“No I just live in the country in general. Las Nevadas!” Charlie jumped up and down, punching y/n in a friendly manner. “Oh are you hungry? I have food!”

Charlie’s character threw a stack of lamb chops at y/n. They smiled at him, then quickly realized he couldn’t see them. “Thanks! Where is this by the way.”

“Only the best country ever. It’s Las Nevadas! Do you want to live here?”

“Sure!” y/n followed as Charlie ran around. He showed them all around the country; the casino, the strip club, the restaurant, and even the garden. “Charlie this is so cool!”

“I know!” Charlie jumped up and down in a circle. “I’m not the guy who owns it but I’m sure he’d like to meet you.”

“Oh.” y/n paused, biting their cheek. “Will he be okay with me being here?”

“Of course he will. It’s Quackity! Let’s find you somewhere to live.” y/n followed Charlie to the tall white tower. He led them behind it to a flat plot of sand. “Here! We’ll be neighbors.”

“Awesome. I don’t have anything to build with yet but-“

“Oh here!” Charlie ran into the base of the tower, coming back 30 seconds later. He threw two stacks of oak logs to y/n. “Is this what you needed?”

“I- yeah. That’s a lot of wood.”

“I want you to have it!”

y/n smiled bashfully, trying to swallow the heat rising to their cheeks. They could see their twitch chat running by with messages asking if it was lore or cannon. “Here. Take this then.”

Charlie marveled at the flower y/n had tossed him, a blue cornflower. He smiled, holding a hand over his mouth to hide from the prying eyes of his own twitch chat. “Thank you.”

y/n began running around the plot, randomly placing oak planks to make a frame for their house. They tossed Charlie some planks, allowing him to help build up the home. They continued beholding for another half an hour, allowing y/n to have a gorgeous one story home with room for storage and supplies.

“Thanks for all your help today.”

“Of course! Do I get to see you again?”

y/n smiled, glancing over at discord to make sure they’d requested to be friends with Charlie. “Of course! I’ll see you around the server?”

y/n and Charlie saw each other quite often around the server. y/n logged on, Charlie was there. They’d spend hours in the game mining together, building structures, hunting. It went on months of them interacting in streams and lore exclusively.

“You can’t do this Quackity.” y/n spoke slowly. They’d been practicing the recording for this lore for weeks now, and thank god it wasn’t live. “I trust you, and I’m glad we’re friends, but this? Burning it all? What will that do for you. What will any of this do for you?”

“I know you haven’t been here as long, but this is my fucking country. It’s my fucking war. Who the hell are you to think you have any understanding of this? And ideas?”

“Because this isn’t how it works. This isn’t going to work. How many times have you tried this and it just hasn’t happened or you? I don’t know, maybe think about Schlatt? Or Technoblade?”

Quackity froze, being eerily silent. y/n glanced over at the script, making sure nothing was missed. “How do you know about that? Who told you about that?” Quackity’s character ran forward with a diamond sword in hand. “That is none of your business.”

“It’s none of your business how I know.” y/n backed away from Quackity as he walked closer. “I may not have been here long but I have friends.”

“What friends you have-“ he paused, realization setting in. “You have Slime. My friend.”

Quackity came at y/n swinging, they tried to fight back, blocking with a shield and iron sword. “Quackity enough! This isn’t what you want! Quackity please-“

y/n stopped, holding a breath and muting their mic. Quackity had landed the final blow, taking their first cannon life. They moved slightly away from their set up, making sure to not touch any keys. They knew Quackity was still recording, and Charlie’s part was coming soon.

Quackity panted. Taking a shaky breath. “Fuck. Okay. God I can’t believe-“ y/n waited expectantly. Quackity’s pause meant that he saw Charlie. “Oh. Hey bud.”

“Quackity from Las Nevadas.” Charlie almost sounded like he was crying. “What did you do?”

“Slime, you don’t understand, they knew more than they should-“

“So you killed them?” Quackity was quiet. y/n silently cheered to themselves, proud of both Charlie and Quackity’s acting. “You- you took my friend. You took my friend away and- are they coming back? Is y/n coming back?”

“Slime, I took one life. It doesn’t matter. They don’t matter. They didn’t care about Las Nevadas, not like we do.” y/n could hear Quackity’s character moving from his audio in the discord call. “It’s you and me Slime, my best friend.”

“No.”

“No?” y/n looked over the shared script, searching for what part was happening. They hadn’t read this far ahead. “What do you mean no?”

“I cared about y/n. They were my friend. This is not how you treat a friend.”

“And how would you know?”

“Because I know Quackity. I know.”

Charlie and Quackity came to a halt, waiting a moment before speaking again. “That was great!” y/n exited the Minecraft world, turning their full attention to the discord call. Quackity had his camera on, smiling, but Charlie still kept his camera off. “Was there anything else to record today?”

“No that’s it.” There was some clicking from Quackity’s end. “Thanks again. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah, later.”

Quackity exited the discord call, leaving Charlie and y/n in silence. Charlie cleared his throat, turning on his camera. His room was lit by just the lights behind his set up, casting his shadow over the shelves of stuffed toys and collectibles behind him. “Hey.”

“Hey!” y/n felt their face grow warm slightly. “I didn’t realize there was that much more to the script.”

“Yeah.”

y/n chewed the inside of their cheek. It almost sounded like Charlie was disappointed. “Are you okay? You sound upset.”

“I just-“ Charlie paused, resting his chin on his propped-up hands. “What do we do now? I don’t want to stop playing minecraft with you.”

“Charlie we don’t have to stop. Just because the lore goes one way doesn’t mean that we can’t interact.”

“But continuity-“

“You’re thinking like DnD.” y/n smiled gently at him. “If you still want to play together we can, it’ll just be like a secret. Or we can do our own lore. I’m sure if we talk to everyone about it me and you can write something.” Charlie didn’t say anything, and they frowned. “Is there something else?”

“I kind wish they didn’t kill you so early. I’ve still got my lives.”

“Maybe Quackity will kill you next.”

“That’s not-“ Charlie huffed, running a hand through his hair. “I like the character dynamic. I like us interacting. I like us.”

y/n paused, their face burning. They’d be lying if they said they hadn’t thought about the dynamic between themself and Charlie. The clips of them talking on late night streams. The fan-art all over Twitter. The edits recommended to them on Instagram. Hell, they thought about it even without seeing any prompted content. Charlie was on their mind most of the day. They’d constantly find themselves checking twitch to see if he was live or discord to see if he was active. Charlie had become a constant in y/n’s life and they indulged themself in it. “I like the dynamic too.”

“Well we don’t have that dynamic if you stop being part of Las Nevadas. There isn’t us.”

“Charlie, what are you talking about?”

“I’ve been— fucking— I’ve been using this stupid server to get closer to you. I thought that maybe you liked us the way that I liked us and I- I don’t know what I’m doing now.” Charlie rubbed his hands over his eyes. “I just didn’t want you to go.”

“Charlie I’m not going anywhere. I like us too.”

“You do?” Charlie perked up a bit, seeming more enthusiastic.

“Just cause we write lore doesn’t mean it affects us. Here, watch this.” y/n went onto the shared script, hoping Charlie still had it open, and began to type. They wrote about how y/n would possibly live alone in the woods on the outskirts of Las Nevadas, staying close to Charlie.

They could see Charlie smile on the other end of the call, then emit the sound of keys tapping. y/n watched as the words appeared on the page: Charlie tells y/n how he feels.

y/n gasped and turned back to the discord call. “I wanted to tell you soon. I guess I didn’t realize how upset the recording would make me.”

“Charlie, how long have you had a crush on me?”

“Uh, remember your first day?” y/n nodded eagerly. “Yeah. Probably about there.”

y/n turned back to the shared document, typing furiously. “It’s a good thing I like you too.”

Charlie smiled widely at the words; y/n returns his affection. He smiled at the discord call, resting his face in his hands. “Well then, what’s next for our lore darling?”

y/n chuckled, going back to open minecraft. “Help me make a new house.”

“Only if my bed can be next to yours.”

“Deal.”

They could hear Charlie tapping on his keyboard as he loaded in the game. “I know we haven’t met in person, but I’m serious. I like you.”

“And I’m serious. I like you too.” y/n looked at Charlie’s character on their screen. “It does kind of suck we’ve never met but that doesn’t mean-“

“I bought a ticket.”

“W-what? What kind of ticket?”

“A plane ticket. For next week. I mean if that’s okay. I can still cancel it.”

“No! I mean yes. I’d be delighted to have you come over Charlie.” y/n felt their smile soften.

“Can I still have a bed then?”

“Yes!” y/n laughed, going back to the game. They placed two beds side-by-side in the open air. “How’s this?”

“Better.” Charlie’s character went to stand on one of the beds. “Maybe we can write something different- oh.”

y/n looked at the document. Quackity had left them a comment on their new writing, telling them to flirt elsewhere. “Well, I guess he had a point.”

“Back to the game then darling?”

y/n smiled bashfully at the nickname. “Back to the game.”

#charlie slimecicle my beloved #charlie slimecicle #charlie slimecicle x reader #slimecicle #slimecicle x reader #dsmp fanfic #dsmp x reader #dsmp #lunch club #lunch club x reader #chuckle sandwich #chuckle sammy

[clefairymuke]

daydream | chapter one

next chapter

pairing: armin arlert x reader

themes: college/modern au, slowburn, friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, smut

tw: recreational drug use, drinking, explicit sexual content

word count: 1705

The clock was obnoxiously loud with its endless ticking as you struggled to answer yet another dreaded short response prompt, your eyes threatening to trail over to the paper next to yours. You cursed your professor in your head, wondering who had the audacity to dub them "short answer" when answering every nit-picking facet of the question required at least a page-long essay to respond to the prompt in its entirety. The pen would soon break through the paper with how aggressively you were pushing it down. Against your better judgement, you allowed yourself to glance at your friend's paper. All you were able to read was the scrawled cursive "Armin Arlert" at the top before it was pulled from the table and started its journey to the professor's desk. Armin shot you a side eye as he threw his bag over his shoulder, and you returned a feigned apologetic grin. You watched as he waltzed confidently to the front of the room. Everything was so easy for him.

You sighed as he laid his paper on Professor Hange's desk and left. You knew he'd be outside waiting on the bench by the sidewalk when you finally finished; it was looking like he would be there for at least an hour. You tried to focus. What exactly had you learned so far in Biology 220? As far as you knew, the answer was absolutely nothing. After another while of pretending to think while actually berating yourself internally for your lack of studying, you did what you do best: you wrote down 200 words of absolute bullshit and hoped for a passing grade. It had put you through a year and a half of school -- you hoped it wouldn't fail you now.

It made sense for Armin to do well. After all, he was a biology major on the premed track. You, on the other hand, chose English on the form last minute in order to take the least amount of science and math possible. Learning that general education required sequences instead of singular courses had smacked you in the mouth. You erased the last word and fixed your handwriting three times before you finally decided you were finished, taking the paper up front to join Armin's and relishing in the sunlight hitting your face as you left the building.

"How'd you do?" Armin asked sweetly, perched on the nearest of many walkway-side benches along the campus. You saw a coffee in his hand. As you got closer, you noticed one for you sitting next to him. You smiled.

"I honestly think I did fucking awful. I haven't retained anything from Hange's class at all. She's not even a bad teacher -- I think it just isn't for me," you answered, taking a seat and lifting the coffee to your lips. It was your favorite.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. He'd had a haircut only the day before; he always toyed with the prickly hair on the back of his neck for the first few days after one. You wondered if he'd ever get used to having his hair shorter. "I've offered to help you, you know. I always say I'll start studying with you, and you always say we will. Then I end up studying while you lay there on your phone halfway listening."

"Well, midterms are over now. Maybe I'll let you teach me a thing or two before finals. What's important is that spring break starts now." For a moment you could see yourself and Armin laid out on the beach, sun soaking into your skin with the soft crashing of waves present only a few yards away; that was the definition of heaven. You saw Armin grin as he started to pull his bag over his shoulder in preparation for your walk to his dorm. A common misconception about your friend was that he was a stick in the mud; however, this was decidedly the furthest thing from the truth. Although he was perfect academically -- 4.0 GPA, active in student organizations, one of the way-too-happy people that shows the freshmen around campus each year -- he knew how to have a good time. Perhaps it was years of corruption from you and your other friends (Eren and Jean, in particular), but outside of a god-awful science class, he was easily your favorite person to be around.

The two of you walked side by side across campus, chatting idly about the party you both planned to attend that night and the long drive that awaited you come morning. It was the perfect weather out, a sunny and comfortable 70 degrees. Armin was dressed in an old-looking T-shirt advertising some bedroom pop artist you were unfamiliar with, making it more than noticeable how much he had filled out since he bought it. Khaki shorts hung a few inches above his knees. You had to look up at him when you spoke, quite the contrast to the many years your friendship spanned before. His eyes, though, were still the same blue, and that was unlikely to change.

When you arrived at his building, you trudged up the stairs behind him, grateful you would soon be able to sit down. Walking everywhere was not your favorite activity, but the campus was quite small, and driving would be overkill. You waltzed into the room as you did nearly every day, throwing a hand up to greet Eren. He had his arm thrown lazily around a girl you didn't recognize, his half-up half-down hair falling in his face as he nodded back at you with a smile, eyes half-open and glossy red.

You practically threw yourself into Armin's bed, which was neatly made aside from the plush blue blanket that laid across the yellow duvet. You were quickly underneath it, making short work toward comfort as you nuzzled into a pillow. Armin took the time to put his things away and change into loose-fitting charcoal sweatpants before taking a seat at your side, fiddling with a time-passing puzzle game on his phone.

"I think we should just stay in instead of going to the party and taking that trip. I'm pretty comfortable, and I have plenty of sleep to catch up on," you told him, the joke barely present in your voice. He chuckled, leaning back across your legs onto the wall behind him.

"You're required to come to the party," Eren called over to you, taking his lips away from the nameless girl's neck. "We promised Jean. And you're required to come on the trip, because we can't afford the Airbnb without your charitable contribution."

"Besides," Armin chimed in, looking over at you, "you were lucky your request off got approved. Think of the poor souls that are stuck behind the register at Barnes and Noble this week. They wouldn't want you to use their vacation in vain."

"When you put it that way. . ." you laughed, checking the time on your phone. "What time did Jean tell us to come?"

"Nine," Armin responded quickly, switching from his game to Twitter. It was only 4:06, according to the white numbers above the picture of you and Armin at your high school graduation. You had quite a bit of time to kill.

"Want to watch a movie?" you asked the blond boy at your side. You were already holding the Xbox controller before he could reply. You got on Disney+, arguably your favorite part of being in Armin's dorm, then tossed the controller toward him to choose. He chose, as he always did, some superhero movie that you would pretend to hate and secretly love. He looked over at you and grinned wide, pressing play.

As the opening sequence rolled, you figured it wasn't the worst way to waste time.

---

The party was lame in the best way. Of course, no one outside of the typical circle had shown -- Connie and Sasha, Marco, the current girl hanging from Eren's hip (Ellie, maybe?), Ymir and Historia, and Eren's sister, Mikasa. Or, at least, he called her his sister. She was adopted -- and desperately in love with him -- and you wished he would avoid calling her that for the sake of saving face. Watching her sit angrily next to him while he toyed with the girl's hair was almost as awkward as the way Jean sat next to Mikasa, beer in his hand and flirting without shame. Connie, Sasha, and Ymir spent nearly the entire party trying to convince Historia and Marco to try smoking on Connie's new bong. Between all of these preoccupied people, you and Armin were left sharing a recliner, passing a blunt back and forth and discussing the plans for tomorrow.

Jean's apartment was trashed in the way a 19-year-old boy's would typically be, soda and beer cans lining the tables and clearly visible dust on his furniture. If you squinted, you'd see he was using his U.S. History textbook as a rolling tray. Professor Erwin would be disappointed.

Your thoughts had begun to become fuzzier and fuzzier. You could tell Armin was feeling the same by the way he giggled uncontrollably at a stupid joke Connie made across the room, causing you to chuckle. He was pretty when he laughed, white teeth poking past his lips as his clear blue eyes squinted into almost nothing. It didn't help that they were already half-closed, pink and red lining his blue irises. You and Armin were social smokers, and drinkers, and what came with that was the unfortunate fact that you were both very lightweight.

You listened absentmindedly to the soft R&B Jean was playing, obnoxiously enough, from Pandora on his TV. Every time an ad played, you died a little inside. You found yourself thanking those that didn't come tonight. Eventually, when you were all in some way intoxicated, you all gathered to watch a movie. You had never heard of it, but Jean and Eren were big fans, which meant it was likely some action film with a bit of plot if you squinted at it.

Before the title screen, you had your head laid on Armin's shoulder, gently drifting to sleep.

This was peace.

#AoT #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #aot fic #snk #snk x reader #snk fic #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #armin #armin arlert #armin x reader #armin x you #au #college au #modern au #friends to lovers #slowburn #aot au #loss of virginity #fluff #smut #aot smut #college armin

[floraone]

The King’s New Clothes

So I wrote this for @nari20 because it happened, lol! (And the reason it happened is because Nari is currently doing a compilation of Mamoru Makeover Art over on twitter because she is a gift to this world and there is a MANKINI IN IT and TUX UNDERWEAR and I am LIVING and how do we deserve this woman in our midst making our days So Entertaining lol?!)

Anyway. Talking about Mamoru fashion ended in some mutual prompting so. Enjoy some Fabulous Fashionable Kendy tumblr short!

---

Utopia had taken a surprising amount of time to adjust to, and no one had had a harder time with it than the new queen of the world.

Especially in the beginning, she'd bottled it up and painted a smile over it. But Mamoru - King Endymion now, or so his official royal name, and what the fuck that would need some getting used to - had been with his wife for long enough to see the tenseness of her shoulders, know what it meant when she gripped his hand so tight.

She'd been terrified.

The leaders of the world intimidated her. Not because she was someone easily intimidated, but mostly because some of them tried very hard to do so.

She gritted her teeth through glassy eyes when another old, bald man in a bland, navy suit tried to talk down at her, and stood her ground.

But afterwards, she'd tremble in his arms in the hotel room in any capital city of the world and try to breathe in deeply through her nose. When she'd started whipping out notebooks asking him all sorts of vernacular intentionally thrown her way because she could not understand it, thinking she had to learn and asking him to tutor her even though they’d done it all on purpose, he got mad in a way he started shouting for the first time in his life outside of life and death situations.

Not at her, mind you.

But they were trying to bring down his wife, not even realising the luck they fucking had to have someone with her heart trying to make them be compassionate and humanitarian and good. Someone so unwaveringly pure, someone with her unfaltering integrity. Someone so easily finding the good in others and bringing it out.

But they'd just fucking have to learn.

He'd hired a personal translator for her then, first thing in the morning. One of what was to be one of many. Someone who'd take these terms fired at her in foreign languages and usually translated just as haughtily and arrogantly to her, and instead explain them without shrouding them in pomp and circumstance. 'Habituation' in the end, was only 'getting used to something over time', after all, for a good translator.

They might have tried to hit her at her flaws, but Mamoru was determined, at Neo Queen Serenity's side, to show off where she was better than any of these assholes combined. The world lacked love, not fancy words. Usagi had him for the fancy words.

And so, even though it all began in endless work hours that tore at Usagi, in stuffy rooms half-way around the world at any point in the year, slowly, she grew into it. If Usagi was good at one thing, it was finding positivity and joy in all manner of circumstances, and this was no different.

The climate treaty negotiations in Brussels might have been mind-numbingly infuriating, but she'd snuck them out during lunch hour to a Belgian chocolate vendor nearby who'd been making paradise for the tongue for over 300 years in their little family run-store, and Usagi's eyes lit up like this had suddenly turned into the best fucking day. She might have to try and wrangle power-hungry men, but she could also buy a restored French carousel from 1872 and put it in her sitting room, and yes, she had. And yes, she rode it.

But even those worldly pleasures that made it all more bearable for someone who struggled with having to concentrate for a minimum 60 fucking hours a week most of the time, those pleasures that had the power to balance out the fact that Tsukino Usagi did not get to sleep in anymore at all, ever, were sometimes turned sour for her.

The second time he'd shouted outside life-and-death situations, he'd found her crying over a tabloid as she emptied hanger after hanger of extravagant dresses from her wardrobe.

One of those pleasures that made it all worthwhile for her? Fucking extravagant dresses. Even when Usagi was 14 and had only just learned she'd one day be fucking queen of the world, she'd started to look at couture differently. Started collecting moodboards and clippings. She'd been looking forward to that. A teenage girl's dream of the glamourous life of being Queen.

But now that she was, this life was more work than glamour. The only glamour she got was the one she made for herself. Like carousels in sitting rooms. Like Paolo Sebastian Autumn/Winter 2018 and George Chakra Autumn/Winter 2016 and Isabel Sanchis Spring/Summer 2020 and Ralph & Russo 2017 and Dior Spring/Summer 1992.

The tabloid was horrid. 'Neo Queen Serenity: What a Little Girl Looks Like Who Mistakes Leadership for Playing Dress-Up. Is the Future in Good Hands?'

Underneath it, a spread of Usagi in glittering, sparkling, over-the-top dresses. Everywhere from cutting ribbons at the newly minted Crystal Tokyo Center for Free Childcare to sitting in week-long conferences somewhere in New Brunswick.

Sometimes, he wasn't so sure if the world even deserved her.

He'd personally hung back every hanger into this wardrobe himself, cancelled their meetings for the day much to Ami-chan's organisational horrors, and took her shopping in disguise.

That day, something profound had changed.

"This one," Usagi had said with a flushed giggle. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes were dancing. And really, if it took playing dress up for her, no garment was ridiculous enough to not be worth it.

He stepped out the dressing room in the brightest floral-patterned shiny pastel suit the world had ever seen. Baby blue and pink roses over rococo gold embroidery to bright baby blue patent leather loafers. He looked like a chandelier had fallen into fresh paint and then rolled around in confetti. And his Queen loved it.

"Well, then," he'd winked, and she'd giggled again. "Let's take five."

If they were going to make fun of her choice of clothes, he'd just have to top her game, Mamoru decided.

And really, it made so much fucking sense.

Back when he was a boy with a glimpse of he's future, he'd always wondered how the hell THAT happened. And with that, he'd of course meant something quite specific, and not the fact he'd somehow made it on a throne.

A lavender colored tuxedo that had made him frown into the night for a long, long time. A lavender colored tuxedo that had yet not found its way into his possession. One he'd begun to doubt ever would.

Of course, Mamoru had always liked the more dramatic of clothes. So far, so unsurprising. His favorite attire was a tux and cape that he could flap like no other, after all, and then came a color-blocked puff sleave shirt he'd worn until it fell apart. He'd always liked color. One didn't get married to Tsukino Usagi if they didn't adore a colorful world.

But that?

And yet the royal world they'd found in their future hadn't looked satin and lavender when they'd finally made it there. It hadn't happened. It was navy suits and etui dresses with leaded hems to they wouldn't blow up, covered shoulders and skirts that absolutely had to be no smaller than knee-length, and he supposed it had made sense. After all, the Windsors didn't run around in see-through shift dresses and tiaras, either.

He'd even been a little relieved. He liked blending in. He'd told himself, when he first saw that lavender tux when he was fucking 18 and his mind was blown with too much information he should not have had, that he wasn't gonna do it. No matter what.

Now? Now it made so much sense. Really, he should have known. Of course, this was what was gonna do it.

Someone criticize his wife? They gotta go through him.

If protecting his wife's happiness while she made the world a better place meant Lavender Suits and Capes, then this was what it'll take.

Now, he was gonna fucking do it. Of course, he was.

So no, the Windors still wore unicolor, leaded costumes in the future.

His wife wore skin-tight chiffon, silk and satin.

And he wore mermaid-colored sequined-dinner jackets. He wore heels with flamingo-patterned trousers, complete with a tuxedo stripe at each side. He wore shimmering, metallic athletic wear, skin tight. He wore fake fur collars and thick embroidered velvet robes to black leather gloves. He owned a mankini. A hot pink leather jacket he wore over men's pastel evening wear. The green jacket was jealous somewhere in a closet. Maboroshi no fucking fashion sense.

Nobody ever wrote something offending about the Queen's new clothes once he'd grooved himself in.

(Minako loved it perhaps most of all.)

---

(ANYWAY NARI *ILLUSTRATED* THIS IN THE 50 MINUTES THAT IT TOOK ME TO WRITE THIS AND YOU GOTTA SEE HER ART. LIKE WHAT THE FUCK HOW DO YOU DO MAGIC SO FAST, NARI?!)

#my fic #my stuff #tumblr shorts #kendy #maboroshi no fashion sense #crystal tokyo #usagi x mamoru fanfiction #sailor moon fanfiction #i love my friends

[hasegawasosise]

In Numbers We Trust

Summary:

Prompt master: @outoftheframework

I like the concept of each of the kids having a number or having a thing where they count off. Not in a demeaning or dehumanizing way at all, just more so to use in dangerous situations. For example, a bomb goes off on patrol, and to quickly see if everyone is okay, the kids (including Steph and Babs) automatically start counting one at a time. Bruce can breathe again once the count reaches eight. This tradition begins to carry over to civilian life when the kids yell numbers across a crowded gala after the power goes out.

Beta Agenthandler

Bruce never planned on starting a family. He made a vow to live for justice. He would be the force Gotham needed. He would be the forever bachelor. Justice was his Lady Love.

But 90% of life’s plan was just that—a plan. Bruce would never have guessed he'd end up taking in a boy who called himself Dick Grayson. Technically his ward, but Bruce suffered a mid-life crisis every day from thereon, wondering whether it was the right choice for him to adopt a kid—or why anyone sane would let Bruce Wayne adopt any kid in the first place. It was a testament to Dick’s own awesomeness that he grew up to be a mostly functional adult—Bruce definitely wasn’t.

After Dick, he recruited an amazing girl named Barbara Gordon as another sidekick. She was not officially his adopted daughter, but by day two of working together Bruce registered her in his little hind brain as “my kid.”

Then another. Jason Todd not only stole the Batmobile’s tires but also Batman’s heart. The little boy taught Bruce more about street-smarts and how to be a better person right until his death. His realized depth of parental love made him wonder why he ever adopted anyone in the first place—and ended up losing them that way.

After what he thought was the last, another one came into his life without invitation. Timothy Drake was a genius detective. Out of his first four—yes, Bruce could still count—Tim was the most similar to Bruce. They had the same kind of upbringing amidst the Gotham Elite, they were both highly focused and detail oriented individuals. Tim was even smarter than Bruce, and he was the sole reason Bruce could continue functioning after Jason’s death. Tim was also the only one to believe he was still alive and brought Bruce back from when he was lost in time.

After Time was Stephanie Brown. A cheerful ray of sunshine that had her own worries, but could function the best out of all his children. She had the kind of light sarcastic humor to brighten up Bruce’s darker days. He gained a third daughter, Cassandra Cain, the most accomplished amongst his children in terms of stealth and combat, also his one darling princess.

Then Bruce was introduced to his—one and only—blood son, a little baby assassin who had the unfortunate tendency to stab first ask later. By this time, Bruce had a better handle on raising children highly susceptible to raising hell and violence (read: still an incompetent parent, but he knew how to tune out their nagging) and had no choice but to assign Dick  with Damian’s education on humanities and socialization.

He also had Helena, Terry, Matt, Duke, and Harper.

Bruce lost count.

It was the ultimate testament to Bruce’s parenting skill. He sometimes couldn’t remember how many kids he had. He could lose them in a Walmart and forget he was missing one. But thankfully, he had a secret weapon.

Since Jason, he assigned them all numbers. Dick was one, Barbara was two, Jason three, Timothy four, Stephanie five, Cass six,  Damian seven—although he always said he was the first—Duke was eight, Harper nine, Terry ten, Matt eleven, and little Helena was twelve.

Imagine that. Bruce had twelve kids. What was his vow again? Lady Love Justice? Don’t know her.

It became sort of a tradition. When the kids entered the Wayne manor, each of them wrote their number on the info board down in the changing room. They were also listed on a desktop note of the BatComputer. It became a ritual in which the last child would add their newest sibling into the list, so they knew who the next number was supposed to be, and that next child would be who they were responsible for. Well, except Dick who accepted all of them as his baby chicks. The number also became a little part of their identity—each of them would put their numbers on everything they owned from their doors to their batarangs to the containers in the fridge.

Bruce, most importantly, used the numbering system to check in on them. It started when Penguin detonated a bank and his robins were scattered fighting all the hundred thugs Penguin hired to keep Batman busy. The blast stopped the fight and Bruce’s heart dropped when he realized his coms were damaged and he immediately couldn’t keep sight of them. He immediately tried to think what he could do, and when he did,  he shouted at the top of his lungs.

“KID COUNT!”

“One!” Nightwing shouted from the top of the next building. Apparently he flew off the bank’s  roof when he realised it was going to burst.

Oracle was two but he knew she was safe in the clock tower.

“Three,” Red Hood drawled. Bruce wondered why he joined in, but was thankful nonetheless.

“Four,” Red Robin shouted from the opposite direction, because he was the sensible one who directed the civilians and police to safety.

“Five!” Spoiler laughed and flew to his side. “That was a doozy!”

“Six,” Black Bat said as she appeared beside Spoiler where they shared a hi-five.

“Seven,” Robin pulled out his swords from a thug’s leg. “Father, I need to clean my sword immediately.”

“No stabbing, please.” “Too late.” Bruce groaned.

“...Eight?” Signal. He was still new to the numbering system.

Batman let go a deep relieved sigh.

The police and civilians who were fortunate to witness the scene, collectively said ‘Oh’. It became a trending twitter before Tim deleted the topic as much as he could.

********

The counting continued though. Citizens who have lots of children (such as parents, teachers, sometimes even the Police teams), realised it was a quick method to ensure update of their progeny/students/teams condition. So they  The counting became sort of a Gotham Trend and eventually enlisted into Gotham’s Emergency SOP. Imagine that, having too many kids to count gave birth to a crucial disaster first-aid first responder procedure.

In all actually, maybe that was one of the top major contributions Batman has given to his city.

********

The kids themselves slowly embraced the importance and fun of the numbers. It created a sort of camaraderie-- even when the numbers didn’t correlate with their height. It used to be a nice isoquant curve when they stood side by side. But after Jason’s growth spurt and Tim naught growth spurt, Steph finding high heels and Cass love for Anti-flood Boots, the nice isoquant curve just became a jagged line not unlike a heartbeat rate.  

That aside, the numbering also slowly bled into their civilian lives:

1.

All of them counted before they entered the GothMart -- Alfred was there too, and suddenly Bruce became number 0. He was there to help Alfred because herding the kids was a massive job.

Dick was back for the weekend to spend time with his “babies” and refused to stay at home, because he wanted to sneak in his grocery list (gummy bears and cereals) into Bruce’s list so he could bring it back to Bludhaven and not spend a dime on it.  

Jason was there because Alfred asked him for help--he was the only one out of the brood with cooking talent and generally all responsible in the kitchen, i.e. Alfred could trust Jason to use his kitchen without blowing it up (shoutout to Tim and Duke who blew the kitchen for the fifth time this year).

Barbara stayed at home, watching over their base, but she was ready with her surveillance just in case they lost one of the broods.

Tim was half dragged, because he had spent the last 30 hours awake doing Bruce-knew-what, and only agreed to be dragged with the promise of sweet, abominable GothMart coffee with pink glitter (a cheap imitation of Starbucks, really) because Tim was fabulous especially after thirty hours of no sleep. And the surprisingly awesome coffee was a dollar--what kind of frugal millionaire didn’t appreciate a dollar of drinkable coffee?

Steph was the one who dragged Tim, with the help of Cass who just returned from Hong Kong for the weekend. Steph wanted to buy some new bras for Cass, something cool and sexy she could enjoy immensely. Bruce was not privy in this knowledge.

Damian was there to ensure his embarrassment of siblings didn’t kill themselves or humiliate the family. Wayne was his legacy afterall, and all of them reflected on his legacy, whether he liked it or not. Duke, the only one whom he could tolerate outside Cassandra (Grayson was mother) just poked his cheek and grinned. Duke might be tolerable, but it didn’t mean Damian didn’t want to stab him sometimes (Drake, on the other hand, looked like a nice pincushion to stab his sword into).

They counted 0 to 8 before they entered, orchestrated by Alfred.  

When they were ready for the checkout, 4, 5, and 6 were missing. Bruce finally found them at the children section, where Tim was busy defending his virginity from a Superboy Plushie, while Steph convulsed with laughter on the floor and Cass video-ed the entire thing.

Bruce refused to buy the cereals (Dick) / sexy lingerie (nope, nope, nope) / kitchen knife collection in black (Damian, as they didn’t need another stabby collection). But Bruce ended up buying the superboy plushie because it had been tainted (the store manager glared at him the whole check out time). At least Tim looked ashamed enough when he was handed the superboy plushie.

2.

The gala was in full swing, full of important people and not-so important moochies. Bruce was entertaining a group of usual donors (important and fun people!) while he saw Tim seriously discussing the stock exchange trends with several old, serious men. Dick was charming the usual group of ladies and young men, while Cass seemed to be hiding behind the potted plan.

Then, just like usual in Gotham, the lights went off. The room suddenly became dark and people started to scream.

“KID COUNT!” Bruce shouted. “Zero,” he added because of habit.

“One!” “Three!” “Four!” “Five and Six!” “Seven.” “Eight” “Nine.”

Wait, did he bring Harper with him? Harper was allergic to this kind of gala--and that was why he never fully adopted her into his Wayne name.

Oh well. The more number he got, the better.

Justice Lady love who?

#bat family #batman #bruce being a good dad #bruce is a bad dad #bruce is a bat dad #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #timothy drake #damian wayne #cass Wayne #harper #barbara gordon #prompt by @outoftheframework #prompt fill #numbering system #Alfred is the leader #bruce is one of the kids too

[evansfm]

𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 –– 𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 .

every  morning  evan  woke  up  to  a  london  sky  that  refused  to  let  the  sun  in  ;  summer  was  drier  than  spring  ,  but  the  clouds  seemed  to  linger  year  round  .  .  .  not  that  she  minded  .  she  had  ,  after  all  ,  grown  up  in  county  dublin  ,  where  things  were  always  a  bit  damp  .  still  ,  the  lack  of  COLOR  could  be  draining  .  .  .  so  she  searched  for  it  in  unexpected  places  ,  creating  little  pockets  of  color  for  herself  in  a  rather  grayscale  world  .  golden  lights  strung  on  her  balcony  ,  isla’s  bright  red  hair  and  matching  smile  ,  an  array  of  bright  letters  boasting  NME  lining  a  wall  ––  covers  from  past  decades  ,  a  rainbow  rubik’s  cube  next  to  her  keyboard  ,  two  framed  photographs  perched  on  her  desk  .  the  first  seemed  like  forever  ago  ,  a  beaming  eloise  with  a  twin  on  either  side  ;  beck  on  the  left  ,  evan  on  the  right  ,  both  planting  kisses  on  her  cheek  one  valentine’s  day  years  and  years  ago  .  the  second  was  more  recent  ,  backstage  at  a  show  in  galway  ;  kieran  sat  in  his  chair  with  his  fingers  intertwined  with  evan’s  as  she  draped  her  arms  over  his  shoulders  from  behind  ,  chin  resting  on  top  of  his  curls  and  a  smile  that  looked  SOFT  compared  to  the  goofy  one  ruairi  wore  ,  looming  behind  her  with  his  chin  on  her  head  .  she  felt  warmth  every  t​​ime  she  looked  at  them  ,  but  there  was  always  a  tug  in  her  stomach  .  .  .  the  undeniable  feeling  of  something  missing  .  she  found  her  little  pockets  of  color  ,  but  they  still  seemed  muted  w​​ithout  the  people  she  loved  ––  the  PERSON  she  loved  .

their  schedules  had  begun  to  clash  ––  and  evan  hated  the  way  she  was  beginning  to  get  used  to  the  dull  ache  of  his  absence  .  distance  had  been  a  part  of  their  relationship  for  months  ,  but  the  time  zones  were  killing  her  .  they  couldn’t  always  make  time  for  hours  wasted  away  on  facetime  ;  she  couldn’t  always  fall  asleep  to  the  sound  of  his  voice  on  the  other  end  of  the  line  .  they  were  both  where  they  were  supposed  to  be  ,  chasing  their  dreams  together  ,  separately  .  .  .  but  evan  was  beginning  to  wonder  if  the  path  she  was  on  ––  the  desk  ,  the  deadlines  ,  the  distance  ––  was  actually  what  she  WANTED  .  there  was  a  lack  of  creative  control  at  nme  ;  she  was  a  part  of  a  greater  whole  ,  confined  to  a  desk  when  she  wasn’t  out  in  the  field  .  she  felt  restless  .  .  .  bored  ,  almost  .  and  with  her  most  recent  deadline  met  and  a  job  of  her  own  ––  evan  connely  ,  sans  nme  ––  waiting  at  the  end  of  the  week  ,  she  was  distracted  .  

“  WHAT  are  you  doing  ?  ”  isla  popped  up  behind  her  ,  coming  out  of  nowhere  to  look  over  her  shoulder  .

“  jesus  ,  ”  evan  startled  ,  nearly  dropping  the  plastic  puzzle  in  her  hand  ,  “  where  t’e  fuck  did  you  come  from  ?  ”

“  charlotte’s  office  .  answer  my  question  .  ”

“  playing  wit’  a  toy  ,  ”  she  held  up  the  half  solved  rubik’s  cube  ,  then  let  out  an  audible  sigh  as  isla  looked  unimpressed  ,  then  jutted  her  chin  towards  the  computer  screen  ,  “  trying  to  put  together  a  mood  board  for  t’is  gig  i’ve  got  wit’  saint  valentine  on  friday  .  ”

perfectly  shaped  auburn  brows  raised  ,  “  we  got  saint  valentine  ?  ”

“  no  ,  ”  evan’s  lips  lifted  into  the  faintest  smirk  ,  “  i  got  saint  valentine  .  ”

“  you’re  bloody  joking  .  shut  UP  ,  ”  isla  gasped  ,  rounding  to  her  side  of  the  table  desk  ,  just  to  roll  her  chair  around  ,  “  and  you  didn’t  fucking  tell  me  ?  ”

“  no  ,  because  you  couldn’t  keep  a  secret  if  you  tried  .”

“  well  that’s  because  it  shouldn’t  be  a  fucking  secret  ,  ev  .  this  is  fantastic  ,  ”  hazel  eyes  widened  with  excitement  ,  “  so  you’re  shooting  them  for  ––  .  .  .  ”

“  t’ey  weren’t  too  explicit  about  it  .  i  know  for  certain  i’m  covering  bot’  shows  at  t’e  o2  ,  documenting  t’e  whole  thing  from  t’e  moment  they  get  there  ,  ”  evan  huffed  a  curl  away  from  her  face  ,  nodding  to  the  screen  ,  “  and  t’en  a  shoot  on  site  at  t’e  venue  .  so  i’ve  got  to  work  wit’  what  i’ve  got  .  i’ve  got  ONE  chance  here  ,  and  nicky  haven  scares  t’e  absolute  fuck  out’a  me  ,  so  i  can’t  blow  it  .  ”

“  nicky  haven  scares  EVERYONE  .  it’s  part  of  h​​is  charm  ,  ”  isla  leaned  in  ,  ma​​king  herself  perfectly  comfortable  in  evan’s  space  as  she  took  the  mouse  and  began  clicking  through  different  ideas  opened  on  photoshop  ,  “  let’s  see  what  you’ve  got  so  far  ––  .  .  .  ”

“  isla  ,  it’s  not  a  big  deal  .  really  i  shouldn’t  even  be  working  on  t’is  HERE  ,  right  now  .  it’s  not  exactly  nme  related  stuff  ,  you  kn––  ”

“  i  TOLD  you  she  was  here  today  ,  ”  a  girl  called  sophie  ,  who  manned  nme’s  front  desk  in  the  mornings  ,  materialized  on  the  other  side  of  evan’s  desk  .  a  junior  writer  ,  andrew  ,  was  hot  on  her  heels  .

“  soph  ,  now  really  probably  isn’t  the  best  time  and  it  really  isn’t  your  busi––  ”

“  someone’s  got  to  show  her  ,  ”  sophie  was  ,  admittedly  ,  obnoxious  .  and  coming  from  EVAN  ,  that  was  a  feat  .

“  show  WHAT  to  WHO  ?  ”  isla’s  voice  changed  in  tone  ,  taking  on  a  hint  of  authority  as  she  looked  at  andrew  ,  “  aren’t  you  meant  to  be  doing  some  social  media  research  right  now  ?  ”

“  i  WAS  ,  but  ––  ”

“  but  we’ve  found  something  that  evan  HAS  to  see  ,  ”  sophie  .  again  .

“  we  ?  ”

“  ME  ?  ”  evan  said  in  tandem  with  isla  ,  brows  lifting  as  she  clicked  the  final  piece  into  place  on  the  cube  .  she  glanced  over  at  isla  and  felt  a  strange  twist  in  her  stomach  when  she  saw  the  redhead  had  gone  rigid  .

“  is  this  about  ––  ”

“  rebecca  stringer  ,  ”  andrew  nodded  solemnly  ,  as  though  evan  was  supposed  to  know  who  the  hell  THAT  was  .

“  better  known  as  BEX  ,  ”  sophie  added  .

it  was  evan’s  turn  to  go  rigid  .  her  back  straightened  ,  and  it  felt  like  ice  had  just  been  shot  through  her  veins  .  truth  be  told  ,  she  was  more  worried  about  conflicting  schedules  lately  .  .  .  not  the  way  bex  sing-songed  a  shortened  version  of  kieran’s  name  .  .  .  or  the  way  she  answered  his  phone  and  simply  couldn’t  remember  who  evan  was  .  .  .  or  the  way  she’d  made  sure  evan  could  hear  her  promise  to  personally  deliver  kieran  to  his  hotel  room  that  first  night  in  los  angeles  .  it  wasn’t  exactly  PLEASANT  being  reminded  of  the  instinct  that  she’d  shut  down  ,  intuition  telling  her  something  wasn’t  quite  right  there  .  her  brows  pinched  together  as  the  rubik’s  cube  slid  from  one  hand  to  the  other  and  back  .  she  glanced  over  at  isla  with  a  prompting  look  .

“  we’re  .  .  .  doing  a  piece  about  nepotism  babies  in  the  industry  ,  and  she’s  a  PERFECT  example  of  one  so  i  was  having  andrew  look  into  the  way  she  interacts  with  fans  and  her  socials  and  what  not  .  she’s  one  of  like  TEN  people  we’re  look​​ing  into  ,  ”  she  explained  with  an  apologetic  look  .  it  was  then  that  she  turned  a  sharp  eye  to  andrew  and  sophie  ,  “  don’t  know  what  THAT  has  to  do  with  evan  ,  though  .  ”

“  see  for  yourself  .  ”

“  SOPHIE  .  ”

“  what  ?  it  probably  isn’t  even  new  information  for  her  ,  ”  she  shrugged  ,  reaching  over  two  monitors  to  hand  evan  a  phone  .  twitter  was  opened  to  a  profile  with  bex’s  beaming  face  in  the  icon  ,  but  the  handle  wasn’t  hers  .  she  gave  the  pair  of  them  a  skeptical  look  before  glancing  over  at  isla  who  only  offered  a  half  -  hearted  shrug  .  it  didn’t  take  long  to  see  what  ,  exactly  ,  sophie  had  been  talking  about  ,  a  slew  of  tweets  and  retweets  .

bexupdates  :  bex  &  kieran  pulled  up  to  the  venue  together  .  .  .  and  then  left  at  the  same  time  .  why  are  they  lowkey  so  cute  annathefound  :  not  bex  wearing  a  baby  tee  version  of  the  found’s  merch  .  .  .  stanning  her  boyfriend  just  like  the  rest  of  us  

ruairidailyposts  :  ok  wait  are  evan  &  kieran  even  dating  anymore  bc  i  could  be  down  with  a  bex  &  kieran  moment  cheerupbailey  :  @ruairidailyposts  you  know  two  people  can  have  a  relationship  without  posting  about  it  right  ???  they’re  in  separate  countries  rn  lol

babybexxx  :  i  just  think  that  bex  &  kieran  walsh  as  a  power  couple  .

bxhq  :  no  offense  but  bex  is  simply  so  much  better  for  him  than  some  rando  from  ireland  like  what thefoundupdates  :  @bxhq  babes  they  LITERALLY  grew  up  together  ????

totallyconan  :  be  honest  do  u  guys  think  the  reason  evan  isn’t  on  tour  with  them  is  bc  they’re  not  together  anymore  like  she  literally  never  misses  shows

adamfitzupdates :  why  are  y’all  so  obsessed  with  a  relationship  that  doesn’t  concern  you  ???  chill bexlevitates  :  @adamfitzupdates  bc  it’s  weird  that  evan  knew  him  for  so  long  and  only  started  dating  him  AFTER  the  found  started  to  get  big  like  that’s  shady

bexupdates  :  find  someone  who  looks  at  u  the  way  bex  looks  at  kieran  on  stage  wtf  did  y’all  see  that

newruleshq  :  no  waaaay  this  man  has  a  gf  when  he  and  bex  look  so  good  next  to  each  other  LMAO  

thefoundupdates  :  according  to  the  girl  who  wrote  the  article  kieran  literally  WALKED  OUT  on  the  interview  ???  rockstar  behavior  but  also  hope  he’s  ok

evan  could’ve  kept  scrolling  for  hours  as  her  heart  rate  began  to  rise  and  rise  .  the  crease  between  her  brows  deepened  ,  and  she  reminded  herself  of  everything  she  knew  to  be  true  .  kieran  LOVED  her  .  twitter  was  a  BRUTAL  place  .  it  was  as  though  the  worst  parts  of  her  subconscious  had  come  to  life  in  280  characters  or  less  .  her  head  began  to  swim  as  her  heart  sank  into  her  stomach  .

“  what  does  t’is  ––  .  .  .  ”  her  voice  cracked  ,  and  she  cleared  her  throat  ,  finally  looking  up  from  the  phone  screen  ,  “  why  ,  exactly  ,  are  you  showing  me  this  ?  ”  

sophie  looked  as  though  she  was  shocked  by  evan’s  question  ,  “  because  i’ve  dated  musicians  .  .  .  and  like  HALF  of  those  are  in  bex’s  likes  .  which  are  public  ,  by  the  way  .  just  doesn’t  seem  subtle  to  me  .  ”

“  are  you  trying  to  insinuate  something  here  ,  sophie  ?  ”  her  tone  shifted  ,  irritated  as  she  handed  the  phone  back  .

“  like  i  said  ,  i’ve  dated  guys  in  bands  ,  too  ,  and  ––  ”

“  enough  ,  ”  isla  snapped  ,  “  you’re  sticking  your  nose  where  it  doesn’t  belong  .  BOTH  of  you  should  be  off  doing  your  jobs  right  now  ,  so  ,  run  along  .  ”

both  of  them  scurried  off  without  a  word  .  

evan  was  still  for  a  moment  ,  but  her  fingertips  were  itching  for  the  keyboard  .  she  was  no  stranger  to  things  like  this  ,  unkind  words  from  strangers  who  didn’t  LOVE  the  idea  of  her  ––  despite  not  knowing  her  .  the  good  outweighed  the  bad  on  the  internet  ,  but  the  voices  who  didn’t  like  her  were  always  the  loudest  .  even  BEFORE  she  and  kieran  had  gone  public  with  their  relationship  .  .  .  even  before  they  were  ever  in  a  relationship  at  all  .  over  time  ,  she’d  learned  to  tune  it  out  and  focus  on  the  kindness  that  flooded  her  comment  sections  and  mentions  .  .  .  but  every  now  and  again  something  slipped  through  the  cracks  .  .  .  and  when  they  did  ,  she  absorbed  them  like  a  blow  to  the  abdomen  .  they  settled  into  her  memory  and  cemented  themselves  there  ,  tucked  away  until  they  found  the  perfect  moment  to  make  her  self  conscious  .  like  the  fan  who  had  commented  on  the  shape  of  her  body  before  and  after  going  to  uni  .  .  .  and  another  from  galway  who  made  it  their  business  to  let  everyone  know  she’d  slept  around  while  living  there  .  .  .  and  every  time  someone  said  she  wasn’t  good  enough  for  kieran  or  any  of  them  .  that  she  had  bad  intentions  ,  leeching  onto  the  boys  for  fame  .  that  her  career  was  based  SOLELY  on  the  four  of  them  .  

if  she  caved  and  kept  scrolling  ,  she’d  commit  it  all  to  memory  .  .  .  everything  that  made  her  intuition  about  bex  STRONGER  .  

instead  ,  she  launched  forward  and  snatched  the  rubik’s  cube  back  up  ,  immediately  distorting  its  perfect  faces  and  mixing  it  up  again  .  it  was  good  to  keep  your  hands  busy  ,  she  knew  ,  when  your  mind  began  to  run  away  .  

the  worst  of  it  wasn’t  even  TRULY  comments  about  their  relationship  .  .  .  those  hurt  ,  but  they  didn’t  sting  quite  as  bad  as  real  -  time  updates  about  kieran  and  bex  showing  up  or  leaving  venues  together  .  she  dulled  the  pain  by  reminding  herself  that  THREE  other  boys  were  never  too  far  behind  .  that  kieran  would  never  .  .  .  COULD  never  .  .  .  

but  then  again  ,  there  was  the  tweet  that  weighed  heaviest  in  her  mind  .  kieran  walked  out  in  the  middle  of  an  interview  ,  and  he  hadn’t  told  her  .  something  rattled  him  to  the  point  of  his  version  of  an  outburst  ,  and  he  hadn’t  told  her  .  that  seemed  like  something  he  would  have  told  her  .  .  .  it  seemed  important  enough  ,  she  thought  to  herself  ,  right  ?  RIGHT  ?

her  throat  felt  tight  ,  and  she  kept  running  the  tweets  she’d  read  over  in  her  mind  .  there  was  a  deep  furrow  in  her  brow  as  she  looked  down  at  her  hands  ,  still  vehemently  mixing  up  the  toy  .  something  felt  off  kilter  .  .  .  but  she  couldn’t  pin  down  which  hurt  more  :  the  slew  of  tweets  from  people  pretending  to  know  what  went  on  in  her  relationship  .  .  .  or  the  thought  of  kieran  doing  something  as  rash  as  storming  out  of  an  interview  ––  and  then  not  telling  her  .  

“  i  didn’t  know  about  t’e  interv​​iew  bit  ,  ”  she  said  quietly  ,  eyes  still  trained  on  the  colorful  cube  .  she  was  certain  her  face  was  the  opposite  ,  color  drained  .  

“  evan  ––  .  .  .  ”

“  it’s  fine  ,  ”  she  said  firmly  ,  “  it’s  probably  not  true  .  just  like  t’e  rest  of  it  isn’t  true  .  ”

her  voice  sounded  distant  .  .  .  and  she  wasn’t  sure  if  she  was  trying  to  convince  isla  or  HERSELF  .  clearing  her  throat  again  ,  she  set  the  toy  back  down  on  her  desk  and  scooted  towards  the  computer  .  

“  i’ve  got  work  to  do  ,  ”  she  said  quietly  ,  getting  back  to  the  monitor  .  though  all  she  wanted  to  do  was  go  home  .  how  many  more  people  thought  that  she  wasn’t  GOOD  ENOUGH  for  kieran  ?  how  many  people  thought  someone  like  bex  was  a  better  fit  ?  how  long  would  it  take  for  the  suggestion  to  become  potent  enough  to  make  the  people  who  KNEW  them  question  it  as  well  ?  and  if  kieran  had  walked  out  of  an  interv​​iew  ,  WHY  hadn’t  he  told  her  ?  

she  glanced  down  at  her  own  phone  screen  ,  hoping  that  maybe  she’d  missed  a  text  or  a  call  .  .  .  but  all  she  got  was  nothing  .  nothing  but  the  words  she’d  seen  written  down  ,  now  cemented  in  her  mind  :  bex  is  simply  so  much  better  for  him  .  .  .  because  SHE  was  there  ,  wrapped  up  in  the  same  world  he  was  in  .  she  was  accessible  .  immediate  .  beautiful  .  

and  evan  was  stuck  in  london  with  nothing  but  time  to  wonder  .

#idk what to taaaag it

[ameftowriter]

Their Own Secrets (Dr. Stone Fanfic)

Here’s another fic I wrote for that twitter prompt challenge. Almost 1.4k  words written in an hour XD 

The prompt for this one is Secrets

Ao3 | ffnet

Asagiri Gen had a secret. Well, he had many, but this one in particular is one of the deepest darkest ones he has kept inside him and will probably be dragged to his grave. He woke up from the petrification, naked, cold and scared for his damn life. Shihio Tsukasa gave him an offer he could not refuse. It was more accept it or be left alone to die in the brand new stone world. 

Then in an accident, he discovered something that no one else in the world has known.

There was a date carved crudely into a tree next to the so called “Miracle Cave”

Honestly, the carving was more of the miracle than the cave itself if you ever got Gen to admit it.

The carving was a date. The exact date that an unknown individual had broken from the stone, naked, maybe cold, and most definitely… alone…

Gen did not know how to comprehend this fact. It took him a while, but he finally accepted this truth.

Perhaps that's where it all began.

That he fell for this unknown person.

Once he met Ishigami Senku, finally a face was plastered into his mysterious carver. He did not expect him to be this handsome, chaotic, yet wonderful human being. And yet he did.

THis was perhaps the beginning of his crush on him?

He never really told Senku that he saw that date. Would he believe him?

“Hey, Senku-chan… I saw that onderfyl-way date you wrote on that tree when I just woke up. And it’s because of that, I dragged my ass down here and fell in love with you!” Gen said to himself quietly as he recalled the moments that led him to this moment, willing to backstab Hyoga and his men. And in turn Tsukasa as well. People who could snap his neck in one hand so easily. 

No… It was not willing.

He is going to do it.

“Haha…. Like he will believe that…” Gen laughed sadly to himself. “I guess for now.. It will be my little secret…”

Little did Gen know, months later…

________________________________________________________________

Ishigami Senku had a secret too…

Before he met Asagiri Gen, before the world turned to stone, before he even met Ooki Taiju, his soon to be best friend, the young budding scientist had begun running his experiments outside. Also because, their landlord scolded both of them for causing another explosion in the building.

Senku was just about to end his experiments for the day, when he saw three figures approach him. From what he could tell, they were middle schoolers from the school next to his elementary school.

It wasn’t long until their intentions were shown.

A punch and a kick to his face had sent poor Senku off his feet and landed further away from his newly created machine. The young scientist still rushed in and tried to pry them off from stomping and crushing it, but it was to no avail, he was not only younger than them, he was physically weaker than them.

One of the bullies found him annoying and turned to throw a punch. Senku closed his eyes in anticipation of pain, but felt none.

He slowly opened his eyes and saw that he was not hurt, or rather, someone had dragged him away.

He quickly turned to see his rescuer to only see a young boy about a few years older than him, and looked like he came from the same middle school as these bullies. The most noticeable feature he had was the colours (yes, plural) of his hair. One side, the shorter one was black and the other, longer, was white.

The bullies were not impressed (which meant that he wasn't with them, Senku sighed in relief for that) and yelled at him to mind his own business. 

The young boy who rescued him, looked up to them and gave them a smile. Senku was not the one for the emotions, but even he knew smiling at the face of someone who can hurt you was not the best thing to do. But somehow this boy told them something sweet and something that gave Senku the feeling that it was all a lie. And to his surprise, the bulles lowered their hands and legs, apologized to him, and squirmed away.

“Whew…” his saviour let out a huge sigh of relief, “That was so cary-say… Are you alright?”

Senku finally had a good look at the boy who saved him. Besides the hair, he has calm, yet cold lavender coloured eyes, and his fake smile from earlier, had changed from a warmer one. It was odd, but it did save his life, so Senku did not ask.

Rather, he first asked, “Why is your hair like that?”

The boy laughed at him, “You say that first, and not a thank you? Gee, you're welcome.”

“Well I…” Senku’s face flushed pink from embarrassment, “I was just curious… scientifically speaking…”

“You’re such a cute little scientist…” Senku didn't feel like he was lying for that one, “And since you are curious, I have a condition that is called “Poliosis” the doctor said something about part of my hair not having something “melanin” and such and that's why my hair is naturally like this!”

“Oh….. that makes sense…” Senku finally remembered hearing about that condition from one of the hard textbook about diseases he had read a few weeks ago. “And youre talking about melanin, it’s what's responsible for our skin and hair colour.”

“You know of it?” the older boy laughed again, “That’s impressive for a cute little scientist like you!”

“Well I have to since I have to learn all the sciences after all.”

“And, pray tell, why do you want to do that?”

“Because I wanna go to space as soon as possible!”

The older boy’s eyes widened as he heard the young scientist say it with a straight face. He didn’t know if he was to be shocked or impressed or both.

“Well… I guess compared to even me and everyone else I know…” He began again, “You seemed to be in leaps and bounds in science.”

“I still have a long way to go…” Senku huffed

“Then I wish you the very best of luck, my cute little scientist....” the older boy then in a sudden rush leaned closer to Senku and kissed him at the forehead.

Senku felt himself freeze and at the same time felt hot from the sudden affection on him.

“I have to go, now.” The older boy turned away blushing as he slowly walked away from him, “My parents will kill me if I’m not home by six… bye you cute little scientist!”

And with that, they both separated without even uttering their names. 

Though after that, they never saw each other again, and was all but forgotten, when another kid at Senku’s age had protected him from the bullies this time.

Three thousand seven hundred and nineteen years later.... 

“And that is why my hair is like this…” Gen had just finished explaining the reasoning behind his hair colour to Chrome, Kohaku, Suika, and Kaseki. 

“So like half of your hair doesn’t have that melanin stuff” Chrome asked

“That is correct Chrome-chan! It's…”

“It's responsible for the colour of your skin and hair.” Senku interrupted the conversation.

“As Senku-chan says!” Gen gave everyone a warm smile.

Senku figured it was Gen  that had saved him when he was younger, but hadn't had the time, or the courage to tell him.

For a while he wondered about his mysterious saviour, then forgot about it when he had met Taiju and Yuzuriha. But there were times that he still thought of him. Those two coloured hair…

When he met Gen, well he thought it was just a coincidence, then realized the probability of anyone having poliosis. When he remembered the sweet words he used he used the same to everyone he met, including him, he had little to no doubt that this was the young boy who saved him.

Because of this, the, what he thought was fleeting feelings for his saviour came back like the bullet train.

And whenever Gen turns to him, those same feelings hit him again.

But there were things that had to be done first. He couldn’t possibly let these distract him.

And yet… since Gen was here and is a part of them now… he wondered if he could ask him one day..

But for now… it will be Senku’s little secret...

#sengen #dr stone #ishigami senku #asagiri gen #secrets #sngn_1dw #fanfic #dcst #drst #dr stone fanfic

[sugarycloud]

What Caroline meant to me

Hi. So I haven’t posted in a while, and if I did it was always just fic. Honestly I was planning on never posting on here ever again. I was even for a moment gonna delete everything, cos it felt disrespectful or something to leave all of it up. But I couldn’t, and then I got my blog stats for the week and saw that I’d had over a thousand pageviews, something that hasn’t happened in years. So I felt I had to say something. In case anyone wanted to read it.

Firstly, I am so utterly devastated about Caroline’s death. She was the best person, a beautiful and kind soul, and it’s so tragic and unfair that she thought the only way out was to take her own life. It still doesn’t feel real, and honestly I’m not sure it ever will.

I know there are so many people to blame, the press and the media, and social media, and the CPS. But I don’t want to focus on that, because to me, I’m sad either way, I’m devastated either way. And I don’t have it in me to tunnel all my energy into anger and justice, right now all I have is sadness, deep and complete sadness.

Caroline was so many things to me, she was a crush, and an idol. She was one half of my OTP. She was a person who made me want to believe in myself more, love myself more and give less fucks. She got me into writing. She was the reason I know some of my favourite people in the world. And somehow, she was someone I knew.

I first became a fan of Caroline’s in 2011, like so many of this fandom, because of Carolly, because of Xtra Factor, because, and I still believe this, those two were soulmates, and it was clear as day to all of us.

We watched them and fell in love with them, and they made us so happy, besides when we were yelling at me for being idiots. Caroline was always my favourite out of the two, whether it be because I fancied her and not Olly, or because she had the most infectious personality. She was the type of person I could imagine going to the pub with, someone I’d want to be mates with, because she sparkled.

I started writing fic in 2012 and on it sailed from there, I wrote my last fic in November 2019, seven years of being in her and Olly’s heads, and making up all sorts of happy endings for them. It breaks my heart that they never got one, that Caz never got one.

I first met Caroline on December 1st 2013. She was in a car and she stopped and chatted to me and my friend. The driver kept trying to drive away and she kept telling him to stop. She said she liked my coat, and I got the worst pictures ever. But she was amazing and I was so happy.

I next met her at Viral Tap in 2014. I met Jo and Chris. I gave her a burger necklace(‘Oh my god! This is the best thing anyone’s ever got me! I’m gonna put it on!). We chatted for ages, got much better pictures, and she was so lovely, funny, and genuine.

Then I didn’t see her until during X Factor 2015. I saw her plenty before that, I saw Strictly live, both the actual show and the tour, plus A Night With Olly Murs, and I basically lived at X Factor. But I hadn’t actually met her in a year and a half.

It was her book signing, I was really nervous, she had unfollowed me on Twitter after I drunkenly insulted her boyfriend on there. Course she didn’t remember that. She didn’t remember meeting me before but did after a bit of prompting. We talked about Strictly (‘You won six hundred pounds cos I won Strictly?! *turns to her team* ‘She won 600 pounds cos I won Strictly!) and her book (‘I read it in a day’ ‘What was your favourite bit?’ ‘Any bit with Olly’ ‘Of course’), I kept calling her Caz (‘I love that you call me Caz!) and we took our first selfies. She signed my book ‘Lovely to meet you AGAIN’ and in one for my mum wrote ‘You have a wonderful daughter’.

I saw her at XF soon after that and the first thing she said to me was ‘I’ve met you before!’ before much Olly chat and XF chat and how brilliant she was chat. She always chatted to you like you were her mate, telling us about her mum coming to visit and what Olly got for her birthday(‘A coat and a purse’ ‘What brand?’ ‘Yves Saint Laurent… who needs a boyfriend when you have Olly Murs’) my poor heart could barely handle it.

The weekend of the X Factor final, I got about 5 hours sleep and saw them kiss on the stage, still one of the best weekends of my life.

Next time I saw her was April 2016, outside of BBC, there was 3 of us there and we all talked for ages. I remember saying something, maybe about having met her before, and she went ‘I do know who you are!’, I never worried she didn’t after that. Also thus began the habit of her taking my phone and taking selfies from all the angles whenever I saw her.

Honestly after that it starts to meld together, I served her at work in 2017(‘Oh my god it’s you! I haven’t seen you in ages!’) at her radio show where she was about to get in her car, turned around and saw me and got back out again. There was all the times at Chicago and the one time at stage door for Crazy for You, chatting to her at Aftersun, and even when I was at the back of the room, seeing me, pointing and waving.

The last time I saw her was last year at her River Island launch. It was so nice. There was a big queue to see her and when I got to the front she hugged me and went ‘Hey you’. We were chatting for a while about Olly and how I was seeing Take That a lot right at that moment in time (How many times?’ ‘20’ ’20!!’), I told her I couldn’t afford any of her collection and she went all whispery ‘Don’t worry, I’ll send you some’ (she never actually did but still a very sweet gesture). There was a queue forming behind me so she said she’d catch me a in a bit.

I sat down on the sofa and after a while, she came and sat down next to me (‘Is it just me and a load of Instagrammers?’ ‘Yeah’ ‘Do you know anyone else here?’ ‘No’). We took some more pictures (‘Oh my god the camera on your phone is so good’) and chatted about Love Island and the rest. Eventually I left after the place emptied out and she had to go do some promotion pictures. I can’t believe it’s the last time I ever got to talk to her, I’m so glad it was so good. I have not one bad memory of meeting her and I will treasure every second of it all always.

She wasn’t my friend, but she knew me, she followed me on Twitter and Instagram, and always asked about my work (she always remembered where I worked after I served her) and how I was. She knew me and I knew her. I always used to say ‘We’re not friends but we’re friendly’ when people at work would take the piss and call her my mate.

My work, honestly, have been so understanding. I found out at work, someone took me aside and told me, and took me home. I wasn’t in for 4 days and when I did go back I couldn’t stop crying. I cried on so many people. But they got it, they all got it, how much she meant to me and how much I loved her and cared about her and knew her. They didn’t dismiss it just because she was famous, they understood completely.

Honestly, ever since Caz died, I have never known such kindness and love in all my life. I had about 200 messages from people the night it happened, and people who have been checking how I am every day. I couldn’t sleep for a week, I’m still struggling to eat, and there are so many tears. But having so much support and being surrounded by love has helped so much. I only wish Caz had known how loved she was, I hope she did know, that she was so so loved by so so many. I can’t stop thinking about her family, about Jo and Chris, and her friends, poor poor Lou, and Sam, and Olly. I can’t even imagine how they feel, and I can do nothing but hope beyond anything that eventually they will be ok.

It’s hard as a person who doesn’t believe in heaven or the afterlife to find any solace in this. People find comfort in that, that’s she ‘in a better place’ and ‘at peace now’ and ‘looking down on us’. I get that helps people, but to me, there’s no better place, the place for her was here. And now all we have is memories, and thinking of her sad and alone, and it breaks my heart time and time again.

Caz was an amazing person, she was kind and generous and funny. She had a good word to say about everybody and no matter who you were, treated you just the same. She wore her heart on her sleeve, loved so deeply, felt everything so much. She was one of a kind, a good soul and the most beautiful person, inside and out and this world is a poorer one for her no longer being in it.

So what did Caroline mean to me? She meant the absolute world, and I’m gonna miss her so very very much.

#so i'm never posting again after this #if you want to talk send me your twitter or insta @ #love to you all #i hope everyone is ok as can be

[epicstuckyficrecs]

Weekly Recap | August 12th-18th

Sorry it’s a bit late! Here’s what I read in the last week :) 

~

Complete

Water Landing by romanticalgirl (Modern AU | 8K | Teen): From the prompt: My dog is the size of a mini horse and forcibly knocked you into the duck pond for that hot dog you were about to take a bite out of.

here is no mistake by amethystkrystal (Post-Endgame, canon-divergent |  <1K | General): Bucky Barnes is worthy.

we were running riot by steveandbucky (canon-divergent, TFA | 2,4K | Explicit): The train is still running at full speed. Steve swears under his breath. He almost just lost Bucky.

Have You Seen This Person? by fallendarlings (Post-WS | 2,5K | Teen): Missing persons fliers start showing up in Steve's apartment. They have his face on them and they're written in Bucky's handwriting.

💙 Collar Full of Chemistry by 2bestfriends (Modern AU, BDSM | 188K | Explicit): Steve is very rich and desperate to feel in control of his life again after a recent divorce has left him feeling bitter and lonely. When he keeps crossing paths with a disaster twenty-something, an unconventional solution presents itself. Bucky is very broke and can’t seem to catch a break, especially after some asshole fires him for one fucking mistake. So of course, it follows that he should sign a contract agreeing to do everything and anything that same asshole wants for a whole year in exchange for a payout that could finally change his life for the better.

💙 the way you slam your body into mine reminds me i’m alive (but monsters are always hungry, darling) by voxofthevoid (Shrunkyclunks, Avenger Bucky | 3K | Explicit): Steve doesn’t wait for an invitation, bodily pushing Bucky out of the way and kicking the door shut behind him. Bucky wouldn’t put up with that shit, not normally, but Steve lays his hands on him, hot and huge over bare skin, and then there’s teeth closing in on his throat, and Bucky can’t think. (Part 4 of couldn't get the boy to kill me)

tell yourself this is how it's going to be by belovedmuerto (post-CW | 25K | Mature): Steve is absolutely one hundred percent not going to cry himself to sleep.

Good Friends by eadunne2 (Evanstan RPF | 3,8K | Explicit): “I was just wondering what you think about the fact that everyone thinks you’re dating?” “I mean we’re good friends so, thanks but no thanks.”

Happy Birthday, Sebastian Stan by dixons_mama (Evanstan RPF | 2,5K | Explicit): Chris surprises Sebastian on his birthday, and things take a turn that neither expected. Maybe birthday wishes do come true.

Something Simple by Catchclaw (Evanstan AU | 2,9K | Explicit): Chris woke up with a hangover and a half-hearted hard-on and a softly snoring dude in his bed.

My Arms Are Open by dixons_mama (TFA | 2,9K | Explicit): When Steve sees that Bucky is struggling after escaping Azzano, he decides to do all he can to help the love of his life recover.

Starbucks by lockedlocke (Modern AU, skinny Steve | 4,3K | Explicit): Bucky presses the middle button on his phone again, and then once more to unlock it. He instantly taps the white text bubble in the green icon, goes to the chat he’s got with Steve and starts to type. He presses send before he even realizes what he wrote. “I will suck your dick if you bring me Starbucks.”

Parade Rest by caleprwrite (Shrinkyclinks | 12K | Explicit): Bucky can be a cranky asshole, but Pepper knows best just what he needs. Bucky will get it whether he likes it or not. And he'll say thank you. Enter Steven Grant Rogers, Massage Therapist and friend to Pepper Potts.

In Repair by sablier_bloque (post-Endgame | 3,8K | Mature): In 2023, Steve Rogers lays down his shield, joins Twitter, and finds purpose beyond the battlefield—with Bucky Barnes at his side.

WIP

💙 Like Real People Do by 2bestfriends (Shrunkyclunks, canon divergent post-Avengers | 59K | 9/10 | Explicit): Seven years into an isolated retirement after the Battle of New York, Steve has carved out a place for himself in the foothills of the Catskill Mountains. He has a best friend (his dog, Lady), a frenemy (a local black bear named Rufus), and a cabin in the middle of the woods, an hour’s drive from the nearest town. As November comes to a close, he heads into town to pick up supplies and ends up with a stowaway.

we miss being ruffians by napricot (Post-WS, canon-divergent | 67K | 12/? | Explicit): Assorted snippets post-they're gonna send us to prison for jerks 💙. Chapter 12: Maybe there was some modern context Bucky was missing. Not that it mattered. What mattered here was Bucky’s innovative new plan to combine winning date night with pranking Steve. Because what was better than getting Steve all hot and bothered? Getting Steve hot and bothered while mildly terrorizing him with terrible Captain America merchandise, that was what.

💙 This Side of the Blue by notlucy/ @notlucy (Mermaid AU | 27/44 | 97K | Explicit): A trick was the only explanation for what Steve saw floating there. This figment of his childhood. This myth. This legend. Within the tank, the siren bared its teeth.

Solitary by exclamation/ @jessicameats (Canon divergent | 38/? | 94K | Mature): The Winter Soldier has been a prisoner of SHIELD for about a year and a half, placed in solitary confinement under strict security when it was clear he wasn’t going to respond to the best interrogators and deprogrammers SHIELD had available. When Fury asks a newly awakened Steve Rogers to assist, Steve is hesitant. He doesn’t understand why Fury thinks he would have a better chance of getting through to this guy than all the people who have tried and failed.

💙 Political Animals by crinklefries, Deisderium (Modern AU, politics | 1/9 | 5K | Explicit): Okay, so the real problem is that you shouldn’t fuck your arch-rival, political enemy, and the person you loathe the most in the world where you work. Or like, at least, you shouldn’t keep doing that.

Re-Read

Flying Practice by cyclamental (Dragonriders of Pern AU | 11K | Explicit): Bucky gets his ass-cherry popped, an allegory heavily inspired by the Dragonriders of Pern. So, you know - First Time, but with dragons.

💙 some days i (wish that i wasn't myself) by notcaycepollard, Roga (Evanstan AU, journalist Seb, actor Chris | 6K | Mature): The problem, Seb never meant to say out loud, has always been that if he got Chris Evans’ dick in his mouth it would definitely end up making the story.

mere colors by brostucky (orphan_account) (Soulmates Uni AU | 27K | Teen): That’s when Bucky takes a deep breath and shoves his way through the crowd.And, really, it’s that moment that shit starts to hit the fan.

Stars Out Of The Blue by luninosity (Evanstan RPF | 6,3K | Teen): Chris Evans accidentally kicks Sebastian Stan off a broken helicarrier set on Monday afternoon. It’s the worst moment of his life. Monday evening, however, contains the best moment. Indisputably. Ever.

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #stucky fic rec #weekly recap

[queeniewritesce]

Recommendations (2/2)

This is part 2 of my entry for the @mrs-captain-evans 2,5K followers Writing Challenge. 

Summary: Twitter is a strange place. But once in a while, you connect with someone.

Word count: 2,484

Warning: mild language, 35 seconds of angst, could be less if you read it fast.

The heavy double-paned door opened with a jingle and a creak, letting the cool air from late November enter the small café on Arrow Street. You didn’t bother looking up from your laptop, where you read an article about penguins instead of finishing grading yesterday’s pop quiz.

Procrastinating was your new favorite pastime since decreasing your online presence. Not that it stopped the ache you still felt every time you opened Twitter to post a new article, which was the only content you shared nowadays. Gone were the jokes geared towards your students, pictures of Captain Hook, or commenting on the everyday shenanigans of the White House and Congress.

The less you shared, the less you cared, and the only reason your profile was still up was because of your job.

You checked the time on the bottom left of the screen. Professor Kincaid’s class had been canceled and you had one hour to kill before your own class started, which prompted you to run to Bean There for a fresh pot of coffee and one huge Boston Cream doughnut.

As you read about penguins kidnapping other chicks if they own young died, you got wind of the murmurs and rushed voices going on around the room.  You tried to tune them out, young people got excited about anything but they seemed to get louder and louder with every passing moment. You located your bag seating by your feet and was looking for your headphones when a pair of black boot cladded feet stopped in front of you.

Pursuing your lips, you let the ears buds fall back inside the pocket but didn’t bother to look up. If your assumptions were correct, the owner of those boots was the cause for the raucous around you.

“Y/N…”

Yep, the voice and the boots belonged to the same person.

Tears made your eyes sting and you blinked to prevent them from falling. You minutely shook your head, not knowing exactly what you’re trying to convey; that this was not the place or that you’re not, would never be, ready to talk to him.

“Please. Can we talk?”

The hurt in his voice gave you pause. Why would Chris feel anything but pride at playing you as he did? Did he want to do a coup de grâce to your ego?

Keeping your eyes downcast, you lowered the screen of your laptop, glad you hadn’t bothered with the power strip. Shifting the electronic around you other stuff took more time than intended but after a few tries, you zippered up your bag, grabbing some money out of your wallet and dropping it on the table.

You got up and your nose pressed against the most muscular chest you ever saw. He was so well built that you could see the hard contours of his pecs through the thick cream sweater he was wearing. The smell of his cologne hit your nostrils and you almost swoon, finally looking up.

He shouldn’t be allowed the whole package, that was so unfair to you.

Deep blue eyes framed by thick eyelashes stared back at you, the lower half of his face covered in fine auburn whiskers that couldn’t be more than two weeks old at the most, looking so soft that you had to restrain yourself from reaching out and running the tips of your fingers through them.

“All I am asking is for a chance to explain myself.” Strong fingers reached for you, encasing your small hand in his as if he really wanted you to stay. You scoffed at the notion, this man really knew how to play you. Did he get off in toying with you?

Your scared eyes looked from his eyes to your clasped hands and back again, silently begging him to let you go. He mouthed a soundless no and stepped towards you, bridging the already small gap between your bodies.

Later, if someone asked you why you did it, you would blame your next course of action on the overwhelming need to escape.

“Look, everyone, it’s Chris Evans.”

Chris’s eyes widened and a different kind of hurt clouded his vision. Betrayal. He let your hand go.

Good. Maybe know he would understand exactly how you felt.

A round of applause broke out around the café and the whispers were now cheers. The discretely held cellphones now pointed straight at the man in front of you.

Move, get out. Your feet took their sweet time obeying your brain, but soon you’re grabbing your coat and your messenger bag and making a beeline to the door, not bothering with actually putting on your coat before the full brunt of Boston’s late autumn slammed into you. You powered through, running through the streets that led you to your office, not once looking back, certain Chris would not follow.

Entering the gray building that housed Media Studies and Social Analyses, you allowed yourself to slow down and take a breath. Safe.

The lights stayed off when you entered your office, the loaded mahogany bookcases and dark upholstery making the room more ominous than it truly was.

You let your bag slide to the floor near your desk, not really bothering with damaging the electronics inside.

Heavy feet carried you to the sofa under the balcony window, where you sat with unfocused eyes, mind running a mile a minute trying to understand how your life became a drama movie in just a few short months.

What was Chris doing here? You thought you made your feelings clear when you blocked him. The pain ebbed away after a few weeks, diluted to an ache that accompanied you day and night. For a fleet moment, you had entertained the idea of a relationship with Chris. Not Evans. Just Chris, the wholesome and funny guy you got to know during those four months you spent trading messages with. But that guy didn’t exist, he was just a persona, one more character created and well played by Chris Evans. Right?

There was a knock and whoever was outside didn’t wait for an answer before your door was pushed open.

Professor Travis stuck his head inside your office, a scowl on his face.

“If I hear one more student going off about the Oscar worthy drama on the media department I’ll flunk them and fire you, we’re not a telenovela. Fix whatever this is or convince him to stay away, I got your next class covered.”

He pushed Chris inside the dimly lighted room, raised his eyes brows pointedly at you and left, the door closing firmly behind him.

Silence stretched around you, uncomfortable and unnerving.

His hands stayed on his pockets, heavy coat looped around one arm while Chris took inventory of his surroundings before focusing on you, his gaze never wavering.

“Can I sit?”

You didn’t expect the croaked voice, nor the way it warped around your heart.

Two fingers pointed to the chairs on the other side of the center table. A safe distance, an actual barrier between you.

Of course, he decided to sidestep the table and sat opposite you on the love seat, his knee almost touching yours.

“What you did back there was treacherous and mean.” He faced forward, fingers drumming on his knees. “I guess I deserved it.”

“You did.”

“I never thought those would be the first words I’d hear you say direct to me.”

You cocked your head, not sure what to say to that.

“I mean, I thought about our first meeting, how you would be surprised but also happy I wasn’t a serial killer, just a dumb actor with too much free time on his hand.” He let a dark chuckle. “I never expected you to out me to a room filled with twenty-somethings years old and run away.”

What did he mean by thought about you? You admittedly had mulled over the idea more than once, wondering if you would click on the real world as much as you did online. Even created a list of topics you could revisit from your online conversation, mixed with silly questions you’d never asked him, like blueberry or chocolate chips on your pancakes? Could this man, so famous he couldn’t even walk into a coffee shop without being recognized, also be so committed to the idea of meeting you?

No matter. He still deceived you.

“I asked you once if you were catfishing me. You said no.”

Chris whole body faced you and he trained his eyes on you.

“I wasn’t. I looked up what that word means. I don’t fit any of those boxes. I’m not in it to hurt you. I never said I was someone else. I just never told you my last name.”

“Or who you actually were.”

He huffed.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. I shared with you exactly who I was. Am. My opinions, my true likes and dislikes. I didn’t sugarcoat it or played dumb, I didn’t hide behind a forced laughed or a sound bite. You got Chris, the whole unadulterated version.” His expression hardened. “It’s not easy to open up like that when people expect you to be a certain way, act another way. Since you teach about expectations and the effects mass media has on other people, I believed you’d understand why I had to hide behind a pseudonym.”

It was not the first time you wondered what was like on the other side of the fishing lenses celebrities were under. You taught the basics of how media twisted and organized exactly how the public perceived being famous, asking your students to always remember no matter how famous someone was, there were first and foremost a human being.

“I understand why you did it, that doesn’t change the fact that you lied to me.”

“I never lied to you.” Chris rebuffed.

“You told me you were a flight attendant and you worked for Delta.”

“No, I didn’t. You assumed all that, I just never corrected you.”

“I…”

He was right.

You remembered all the times he changed the subject when you discussed his work and you honestly believed he was embarrassed about his job. You never asked what he did, or what he was doing in Atlanta for so long.

You felt the hot flashes of embarrassment creeping up your face and you hung your head low. Were you really so obtuse?

“I’m sorry.” A staggered breath left you. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask and assumed.”

“I have my own share of the guilty Y/N. I wanted to tell you, I wrote hundreds of messages but I could never send them. I was terrified you wouldn’t believe me before I could send you proof. And then I told you my name and it got comfortable, I wasn’t lying, just leaving out some stuff.”

“A lie of omission is still a lie in my book.” The serious tone of your voice washed over Chris and he winced.

“I got that when you blocked me.”

Once again the room was quiet save from the filtered shuffling of feet coming from the corridor.

As a true scholar, you analyzed all the information he gave you, looking for strong points and flaws on his reasoning. It all checked out. You wouldn’t have believed him. He never outright lied to you. 

There was only one question left unanswered.

“Why are you here Chris?”

His smile warmed you, made you want things that you shouldn’t. Images fleeted through your head, other times when he could smile to you like exactly like he was doing now.

“I’m here because I spent all summer and most of autumn inside a hot as hell costume, my hair dyed blonde, stuck inside a hangar filled with fake debris and green screens, and the only thing that kept me sane was that when I was on my breaks or done for the day I would open Twitter to a new message from you. I’m here because you were my island of calm while I drifted with anxiety.” Two fingers slid under your chin and he gently made you look at him. “I’m here because I like you.”

“You like me?” You repeated and he nodded. 

“I do. You’re funny, wicked smart but you don’t take yourself too seriously unless you have too. You admitted to being a nerd, which if I didn’t make myself clear during the whole Hubble debacle, so am I.” He pointed to black baseball hat he was wearing and you saw the NASA logo. “On a shallower note, you’re way, way more beautiful than all my previous teachers combined. If all professors look like you, I might even give this whole college thing a try.”

Well, wasn’t he a smooth talker. Your smile now matched his. 

“So do you like me like me or like me as in she’s okay?”

“Baby, you’re so far removed from okay, it might need a visa to visit you.”

The room filled with your laugh, your heart finally free of the hurt you carried the past few weeks.

He liked you.

“You’re not a nice guy.”

His smirk told you he knew exactly was this was going.

“I’m kind of an asshole.”

“I’m not denying that one.” He pouted and you wanted to kiss him. “So, not a nice a guy but not a complete asshole, so not a bad guy either.”

He got closer, his fingers playing with a loose tendril of your hair, the other hand fastening on your waist.

“That considerably narrows down your options, uh?”

His smile was contagious and you grinned back, shyly nuzzling his chest.

“How about you? You know, if you’re still interested.” You beamed at the man in front of you, bitting your lower lip.

“Let me show you how interested I am.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when his lips descended upon yours. He poured himself into the kiss, months of wanting you, feeling close but so far away. He fell for you during those late nights you stayed up texting, giving his heart and mind and receiving yours in return. He kissed you gently, slowly coaxing your mouth open, his tongue brushing yours.

He trailed his hands up your back to bring you closer and you shivered, settling contently against his chest, your fingers making their own journey to the back of his neck, brushing your hands on the hair there.

“How about that date?” Chris said against your mouth. “Let me take you out to dinner.”

“How about I cook for you instead? My house, 8pm?”

“I’ll be there.”

Disentangling yourself from his arms, you grabbed a notebook from your coffee table, writing down your address and handing it to Chris, kissing him on the cheek.

“Now go before Professor Travis forgets how much he likes us and I lose my job.”

You moved from the sofa, putting some space between both of you. You grab your bag, checking to see if your syllabus for the next class is still there.

“Y/N?”

“Uhm?” You’re sure he’s gonna kiss you again when he comes closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“One thing though.”

“What?”

The feel of his breath when he speaks so close to you gave you goosebumps. You’re ready, so ready to be kissed again.

“You gotta unblock me on Twitter. I only ever want one person to block me and believe me, you’re not him.”

#Chris Evans Fanfic #Chris Evans Fan Fic #Chris Evans Fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #mrs-captain-evans #writting #writting challenge

[sweetcatmintea]

A Very Good Day

@inexorableblob​ tagged me in a find the word game and I didn’t have any that they’d listed. The challenge was set; write a sentence with all of the words. I wrote a whole scene :v Enjoy! (Thanks for the prompts ^u^) Feedback appreciated!

Prompt: Frontier, Insubordination, Minimal, and Victory (Frontier was hard)

Words: 3404

Character(s): Echo and Storm

          Was it a dumb idea to slip out of the facility, practically at the crack of dawn with a sleepy Echo in tow, before anyone noticed they were gone? Absolutely. Was it down right idiotic to bring Avian, of all people, in on it to find out who was supposed to be shadowing them that day? Undoubtedly. Was that exactly what Storm found himself doing that dewy morning in the middle of winter? Three for three. Echo followed along, obediently holding his hand as he guided them away from the building. She was rugged up to the ears in her fuzzy brown jacket, their mothers red scarf, and thick gloves protecting her fingers. A stark contrast to Storm’s thin hoodie. Although, he only wanted it to cover his wings. The cold didn’t bother him after all. He had thought it would be difficult for her to wake up so early, but she’d recovered quickly. She was having a wonderful time pretending to be a frost dragon. Funny, that trick never seemed to work for him.

          The real plan wouldn’t start for a while - the rest of the world needed a chance to get up first. But if they’d delayed any longer, there’d be no getting away. In the meantime, they found a small, open-all-hours diner. There weren’t many perks to his current … situation, but there was one definite advantage. Money.

          A blast of warm air and stale coffee greeted them when they entered. A jukebox muttered out a jangly tune as they slid into one of the many empty booths. Red faux leather creaking with their movements. Storm unfolded a menu, holding it open so Echo could see.

          “Pick whatever you want for breakfast. Today’s gonna be a lot of fun.”

Her face lit up. [Anything?]

          “Yeah. Whatever you want. It’s your birthday breakfast.”

          She let out a delighted chirp, making quick work of scanning the menu and carefully contemplating the options. There were so many things to choose from! So many things she’d never even had before. Two steps in front of her head, her stomach growled. Burgers, eggs. Soup, pancakes …

          [Can I have waffles please? With bananas and maple syrup? And cream too! Please?]

          “Sure thing.” Storm signalled the waitress. It’s all about the confidence, he told himself. He’s totally not completely out of place here. He repeated the order, adding bacon and eggs, a coffee, and an apple juice. He could hardly believe his little sister was already eleven. She certainly didn’t act like it, but he still felt old. His heart tweaked a little at the thought. She was growing up. A blink and she’ll be a teenager. Gods knew he wasn’t prepared for that. He could only hope he was making the right decisions for her.

          Echo poked his arm, pulling him out of his musings. She looked like she was waiting for a response. Had she asked something?

          “Sorry, what did you say?”

She huffed, but repeated herself. [Are we going to get in trouble for this?]

          “No, of course not.” The awareness behind her eyes made his fur stand on end. What happened to all that naivety?

          Her brow furrowed, worry playing on her features. [We’re not supposed to go out alone. They’re gon-] Storm captured her hands in his own. They still fit.

          “Trust me. Everything is going to be fine. We’ll have a nice day, celebrate your birthday, head back, and everything will go back to normal. No problems.”

          Doubt flickered but faith overpowered it. Echo nodded, smiling brightly again. That was better. Storm was, without a doubt, going to have his ear chewed off when they went back. White would probably accuse him of “insubordination” or some other garbage. It didn’t matter. There were more important things than pleasing that pig sniffer. If Storm wanted to spend one day with his sister, by the stars, he was going to. And if White had a problem with that, well, he was just going to have to get in line.

          Their food arrived quickly. Unsurprising given the sparse customers. Storm didn’t know if Echo realised it, but she was purring while she dug in, happily munching away. Darn, she was a cute kid. She offered him a forkful of dripping banana waffle in exchange for a bite of his bacon.

          Business began picking up for the diner, signalling the next phase of his plan. Storm gathered up his sister, paid for the meal, and strolled onwards. Echo remembered her manners, signing her thanks from the safety of slightly behind her big brother as they left.

          Breakfast sorted, they boarded a train and watched the city melt away. Passing towns, parks, and lakes, Echo couldn’t begin to guess where they were going. There was a half-grown hope that they weren’t coming back, but Storm was not the kind of person not to pack beforehand. Without a suitcase between them, it didn’t look likely. Regardless, they shouldn’t be too easy to track down today.

~~~

          She never expected to be led to a zoo. She couldn’t quite believe it even as they manoeuvred around other milling patrons to gain admission. A ticket had always been a luxury beyond their means. The biting cold snapping at her nose suddenly didn’t matter. Jittery excitement filled her limbs, warming her and filling her with butterflies all at once. She tried to contain it, but her tail was practically vibrating as she bounced on the balls of her feet. They were going to the zoo!

          One glance at Echo and Storm knew he’d made the right decision. He’d torn himself apart debating the purchase for weeks. He wanted to get her the right gift. Tickets were expensive, even now that they weren’t on dirt poor avenue, poverty lane, and he’d been carefully saving every peckie so they could leave as soon as possible. But it was her birthday and if anyone deserved something nice, it was her. Maybe it would make up, at least a little, for his forced absenteeism. He could hardly keep his own tail from wagging as Echo walked, spell-bound, through the gates. Whatever was waiting for him back there, today was going to be a victory.  

          Not three feet passed the entrance and they saw their first animal. A peacock, all dazzling blues and greens, wandered up to them. Echo, reckless as ever, immediately took off after it, almost disappearing into the crowd. Hand holding was going to be a must here.

          “Echo, don’t run off! I don’t want to lose sight of you.”

          She gave a sheepish apology. [I was asking Nathaniel, that’s Mr. Peacock’s name, where we should go. He said to see the birds first.]

          Storm eyed the bird. “Did he now?”

[Yep.]

          Storm opened the map, pointing out where they were. “The birds are all the way back here. If we go there first, we’ll miss a lot of other exhibits and have to backtrack. Why don’t you pick a direction, left to giraffes or right to sheep, and we’ll go from there? We’ll take the best route to see all of the animals.”

          Echo followed along as Storm traced his finger along the potential paths, proving his claim.

          [Let’s go to the sheep!] Bouncing again. [Will we be able to pat them? I wanna pat a sheep!]

          Storm chuckled at her enthusiasm. “It looks like you can. There’s a little hand sign on the map.” She bit back a squeal of delight. “Let’s go then. Hold my hand while we’re here.”

          They found the path with minimal trouble. Despite all of the movement and the winding walkways, the signs were very clear. Birds twittered overhead, presumably chatting to their exotic friends. They arrived at what Storm could best describe as a giant, open, barn, ‘Petting Zoo within. Please wash hands’ was painted over the large entryway. Sheep and goats took turns bleating a chorus to chicken clucks and pig snorts. The smell was offensive. Hay and timber on their own were pleasant, but they couldn’t compete with the musty farm animals. Echo’s beeline for the first enclosure was circumvented by the insistence she take two seconds to follow the posted rules. Other children ran ahead of her, trailed by their less enthusiastic guardians. Finally, permission was granted. Barely waiting for the zookeeper to open the gate, she was waist deep in animals in no time. Storm followed, ready to fish her out again at a moment’s notice.  She chittered and trilled to them, greetings and pleasantries he supposed, before running her fingers through the closest sheep’s woollen curls. If the way she beamed was any indication, it held up to all her hopes and dreams. The more she spoke to them, the more animals joined her. They mustn’t get many Tainted visitors, or at least, many with animal speak. Storm kind of wished he knew what they were talking about. It was uncomfortable not knowing what they were filling her head with. He scratched at the rough horn of a goat to distract himself from his own over-protectiveness. The hair was coarser than he was expecting.

          When murmured complaints began piling around them, Storm figured it was time to move on. It wasn’t Echo’s fault that the animals were ignoring the other kids but that didn’t matter. Besides, there were plenty of other places to explore.

          “Come on, say bye to these guys. I think alpacas are next.”

          [But I love them.] Echo wrapped herself around a lamb, snuggling into its soft coat with big doe eyes for emphasis. Storm sighed internally. Please don’t let this be the procedure for every animal. He wouldn’t survive. His resolve was already wavering. Instead, he plucked a hay straw out of her hair and tried negotiations.

          “We don’t have a lot of time before we have to go. You can stay here all day if you really want to, but wouldn’t it be better to see the other animals too?”

          It was so very tempting, but she relented, reluctantly untangling herself from the animals and leaving the barn. He was no match for her puppy eyes, but she couldn’t dispute his logic. Her high spirits returned as soon as she saw the alpacas wandering about their field. More so when they crept through the reptile emporium, making an exaggerated effort not to disturb the slumbering snakes. An interactive encounter in which a massive python was draped over Echo’s tiny shoulders left Storm’s stomach in his shoes and a spring in Echo’s step. Did children have no sense of self-preservation or was it just her? Tracing the scales on the snake’s behemoth body was enough to send queasy shudders down Storm’s spine.

          Monkeys next. Storm enjoyed their silly antics much more than his sister. It was fun to watch them swing around and groom each other. Echo claimed they were making a lot of terribly rude comments about visitors.

          The red pandas’ acrobatic show enchanted Echo and the kangaroos’ raw power awed her. Although she wanted to watch the crocodiles, she couldn’t bring herself to go anywhere near their big pools. Of course she knew there was no way to fall in, what with the dual fenced perimeter, but her feet would not allow it. It was beyond frustrating. So close to a living fossil, someone almost certainly acquainted with the gods, and the mere thought of approaching their watery habitat sent tremors through her hands. She wouldn’t have been able to speak to a crocodile regardless of whether she visited the exhibit, the language of reptiles beyond the frontiers of her abilities, but to stand in their presence would have been enough. After several minutes of trying to convince her body to follow her wishes, Storm saved her from her self-appointed torture. Scooping her up, he tossed her into his shoulders.

          “Come on big kid, let’s see the birds. Did you know it’s actually the dad cassowaries that raise the babies?”

          Two taps for no.

          “It’s true. They’re also one of the heaviest and tallest birds in the world. Let’s go see if we can find one.”

          One excited tap and a wiggle for yes.

          Even in the safety of her pen, the shaggy black and blue dinosaur bird was intimidating. She stared down visitors with an almost menacing cocked head. Judgement made, she disappeared back into the trees. It took longer than Storm would like to admit for the pair to remember to move. Thank the stars cassowaries are not native to Yonder.

          They enjoyed walking through the massive aviary together. Hundreds of different colours whirled around them as birds called and sang. A handful of crows jeered at parrots who performed for fruit. Echo tried to provide a running commentary for Storm’s benefit, but there was so much going on, she couldn’t keep any of the conversations straight. They came upon a big cockatoo that she really liked until he squawked in her face, making her puff in response. Storm had been mindful to accidentally miss the sign offering canopy walks. Echo would have loved to romp around in the tree tops but even he had his limits.

          At some point, they had found themselves at the giraffes even though they were supposed to be at the meerkats. Apparently the signs were not as easy to follow as Storm had presumed. Echo took to the tall creatures much more than Storm had anticipated. Sure they were cool with their weird alien horns, ambling through their fields like new age brachiosauruses, but that was more his interest than hers. When she started bouncing on her toes again, leaning over the railing to get as close as she possibly could, he had to ask.

          “They’re pretty cool, huh?”

          She turned to him, a full-fanged grin plastered over her face. [Yeah! Plus, they talk like me!]

          He focused his ears to the field. Giraffes were supposed to be silent. Did they communicate with inaudible noises like cats sometimes do? It wouldn’t be that strange, most researchers were just normal people. That kind of thing might have gone undetected. Though he listened carefully, he couldn’t hear anything. He glanced back at Echo.

          [Not like that! They talk with their bodies. They sign.] She turned her attention back to the exhibit, eagerly watching. He’d never thought she’d be so happy over something as little as that. It made sense, but he was so used to her little noises, the way she would chatter to practically any animal she came across, he’d never considered she might feel … isolated? Out of place? He didn’t really know. Was this what parenting felt like? Like you spend every day learning how much you don’t know about your kid? He felt a little guilty. He was doing his best, but she was just running ahead of him, changing before he could catch up. How was she eleven already? He used to think being a parent was synonymous with growing up. It’s not. His breath caught in his throat, a single quiet hitch. He rubbed the mist out of his eyes before Echo turned back to him, head tilted in concern. A charming smile – he was good at those – and an easy laugh to prove he was fine.

          “Are you ready to keep going? We’ll get some ice cream before we check out the next exhibit.”

          Echo slid her hand in his, giving a reassuring squeeze. “Mn.” She was still by his side.

~~~

          Finally, they arrived at the exhibit Storm was most excited about. He’d purposefully saved the best for last. A rush of hot air hit as they shuffled into a building, decorated with leafy plants growing up a forest mural splashed over the unoccupied walls. Silence settled around them. There was no one else there. Thick glass panels covered an entire wall, dividing the room from the habitat. With a sharp intake of realisation, Echo froze. Storm nudged her closer, one shaky step at a time. Face to face with the glass, she stared, wide-eyed at the great predator. He surveyed his land atop his artificial tor, reclining into the stony throne. Light and shadow waltzed over the orange flames of his pelt, leaving stripes of ink where they tread. Massive paws hid keratin daggers. Echo let out the tiniest of breathes. His round ears swivelled, taking note. He stared down at her. Gold so intense her gaze dropped. She was face to face with a tiger.

          He rose, stretching his body, a lazy display of godly creation. He did not leap, but dripped to the floor in one fluid movement. Muscles rippled under fur. He was no house cat. A low growl rumbled as he sauntered to them. Not a threat, a reminder. They were so very soft to him. Echo dipped her head, tail lowered politely. An automated response. She wasn’t thinking straight, too busy trying not to throw up her heart. Storm followed suit. Eagle eyes never left his little sister’s form. As closely as he watched the interaction, it didn’t change the facts. He was an outsider here.

          The tiger padded to the glass. He held his head high. Even sitting, he stared down at her. The growls continued. A quiet edge to the air between them. It felt as if she was nothing. Not that she was suddenly any Less but that he was looking past her. Past her body. Past her mind. Scrutinising her very being.

          “Chfufufa.”

Her ears flicked up. His razor gaze had softened to a kind king’s.

          “Chfufufa.” He repeated himself, waiting for her to understand. Starstruck, she almost didn’t respond, but she recaptured her flickering mind, returning the greeting with a chuff of her own. She hoped he wouldn’t notice how fluffed her fur was.

          {Are you going to introduce yourself?}

          {Oh! Sorry! Yes! I – I’m Echo. Echo Bell. It’s an honour to meet you.} She bowed again. His eyes crinkled warmly at her earnestness.

          {Little Echo, you may lift your head. I am Nikita.} He looked towards Storm momentarily. {Your guardian does not share our tongue, does he?}

          {No. I don’t think many people can. I – I don’t know many people who can speak to tigers.}

          He nodded solemnly, a noise of affirmation. {Few can. Fewer still I wish to spend time on. Perhaps once, but I am old now. My desires have changed. You are young, a child.} He paused. {It is lonely, isn’t it?}

          Echo’s fingers worried the soft fibres of her scarf. She tried not to think about that too much. To speak to more animals than most knew languages, and yet still only able to communicate with precious few humans. But she was a cat, what more could she expect? Realising she’d left him without an answer, she hurried to compile her messy thoughts, but his expression stopped her. He didn’t need her explanation. He already understood.

          {There is a piece of us in you. I can feel him. He’s young, rash, despite the ancient stardust lining his hide. You are afraid. That is understandable. You do not have to be. She guides you with the ferocity of a mother, but you are not overpowered.} A full smile. {You are very interesting little Echo. I can see why the remnants watch you so intently.}

~~~

          They continued talking until crowds filtered into the building. Nikita had little patience for their noise, slipping into his pool in retreat. By the time Storm had gotten them both out, a new plush firmly in Echo’s grip, it was time to leave. They farewelled the zoo, both knowing perfectly well they would not be able to return for some time. Neither was sad. It had been a very good day.

~~~

          They sat, waiting for the train to complete its journey. Echo had fallen asleep several stations ago. She’d fought the doze off with all her might, but the rhythmic click clack of the tracks had her out in minutes. She nestled into her brother’s side, content. Storm held her steady, making sure she didn’t fall off the chair while he braced himself for the garbage parade that was undoubtedly waiting for him. Of course he was going to have to face the repercussions of his choices. But when he thought about Echo’s expression as she recounted the day to him, like her eyes had swallowed galaxies, he knew he’d made the right decision. “Happy birthday Echo.”

----------

Taglist

@inkovert and @snobbysnekboi

#original story #writing #story #my story #Echo's Tail #drabble #ask to tag #food #writblr #Nekomimi #kemonomimi #cute #sunday storytime #character mentions #Echo #Storm #Avian #I wrote something that wasn't sad :D

[santamonicaroleplay]

Secrets Masterlist

GROUP A

Marco

━ Marco suffers with OCD, but keeps it well hidden most of the time. He’s had periods where it’s been so bad that he’s washed his hands until they were red raw, though —- usually when something’s happened to upset his normally happy life. ━ When he was sixteen, he stole his best friend’s girlfriend. It was unintentional, but she was also a surfer and they spent every day together, things just “happened”. ━ Marco totalled his dad’s car when he was 18 and DUI. His dad still thinks it was the other driver’s fault.

Jason

━ He is a half sibling but is not aware of it yet, his mother had an affair. ━ Got in a car crash with a friend when both fell asleep and it resulted in the death of an old man. Luckily the mans family decided not to press charges. ━ Overdosed in his sophomore year of high school and nearly died but his family kept it under wraps.

Phobe

━ Use to be a drug dealer ━ Became a camgirl for a while to pay bills ━ She only thinks that she knows who the father of Dani is. Phobe is still completely uncertain even if she has a hunch of who it is

Beckett

━ sells drugs ━ made out with his 27 year old college professor when he was in his junior year of college ━ has always claimed he’s had sex but is actually a virgin

GROUP B 

Amy

━ Amy sold weed in high school and college. ━ She accidentally killed her daughter’s fish and replaced it with an identical one. ━ She still has feelings for her ex-husband (Nathan)

Enrique

━ Enrique has hired a private investigator to locate his estranged mother. ━ Contrary to the ‘bad boy’ image that Enrique exuded throughout life, he is actually very intelligent. ━ Enrique watches a lot of cartoon reruns before he falls asleep at night.

Olivia

━ Once kissed her sister’s boyfriend when drunk at a party ━ Is quite the nerd when it comes to fantasy movies/television, though she'll pretend she's not ━ Suffers from intense nightmares sometimes

Gemma

━ She lost her virginity while drunk. ━ Feels like she’ll never measure up to her family. ━ Still has a stuffed animal her parents won for her at a fair that she sleeps with when she’s having a rough night.

Summer

━ summer tells everyone her movie genre of choice is romance (drama, comedy, all things romance-related). but truthfully, she has a soft spot for dark psych thrillers with a tinge of horror - a little known fact that hardly anyone but the people closest to her know. ━ summer has only ever been in one serious relationship her whole life. they dated for two years in high school and saw a future together past graduation and into adulthood. however, summer had a pregnancy scare at the end of their senior year, prompting her to end the relationship. since then, she’s avoided dating anyone steadily and has stuck to short-term flings. so far her older sister is the only person who knows about the pregnancy scare. ━ summer used to thrift-hunt for rare designer finds and vintage clothing at the local secondhand shops in monterey, freshening them up and selling them online  for a profit. it was a hobby she took to when she was still a kid, but she’s refrained from telling anyone given her current status as a well-reputed stylist.

GROUP C 

Wes

━ there have been a few songs written by him that have made it onto Reckless albums about the relationship between him and Sutton Barnes and the aftermath of their relationship ━ had to take depression medication which he has been off of for 3 years ━ attended therapy twice a month for two years after his mother’s death

Alondra

━ She is afraid of crows. ━ She is a cosplayer but does really extravagant cosplays that always cover or modify her face ━ She has an insane funko pop collection, she keeps them in her spare bedroom along with all of her other nerd things

Brooklyn

━ Dealt with breakdown after fiance left and before moving to L.A ━ Stole a CD back in high school ━ (Was wrote down in Diary) Holds resentment towards her brother Jason for leaving her.

GROUP D 

Hannah

━ Got pulled over for ‘drunk driving’ when she wasn’t even drunk. Just a bad driver ━ Hasn’t had sex in over 5 years ━ Still in love with her ex-fiance Hanson

Ivy

━  she has embarrassing videos she made with her friends online when she was young and in Australia ━ she's not sure if she's really over her ex like she thought ━ she's planning on dropping out of her last year of vet school to use the loan money with the home and grandmother

Caroline

━ Got a secret tattoo in HS without parents knowing ━ Suffered miscarriage after husband passed away ━ Learned how to kiss through a female friend back in HS

Hunter

━ Hunter often lies about his relationship with his family. He and his father have always been at odds and they haven’t talked since Hunter left home to move to LA, though when asked about his relatives, he’s publicly stated that they get along well and are very close, not to cause a bad impression. ━ Hunter has grown to despise the show he stars in, (which I have terribly named) “Dead or Alive”. Another thing he constantly lies about, after all, it would be terrible publicity for both him and the show, but he can’t wait for either the series to be cancelled, or his contract to be terminated. ━ Hunter has struggled with depression, and still struggles with anxiety. It’s not something he particularly lies about, but definitely tries to hide. Hunter has never really recovered from any of his past traumas – from the loss of his mother, to his father’s abuse, he’s always tried to ignore his pain until he couldn’t, and now his mental health is at an extremely fragile state, in desperate need of constant medical assistance.

Christopher

━  Toph is dyslexic, and even though he’s invested hours and hours into tutors and therapies   ━ Topher has Ehlers-Danlos syndrome so his joints are hypermobile and weakened from a lifetime of various sprains and dislocations. He originally took an interest in yoga in an attempt to quell fear that his body would start irreparably deteriorating from his progressive injuries, and while he’s found that it’s offered him some relief and reassurance, he’s still prone to stretched ligaments and dislocations. Though he wouldn’t deny it if asked, it’s not offered knowledge about the gardener. (Save for a handful of rec center yogis who once watched his shoulder pop right out of socket mid one-handed tree pose.) ━ Every now and then, he’ll pull the curtains and open up all of the windows in his loft apartment to let the sunlight and fresh air in, turn on a good song strip totally naked, and enjoy a very relaxed and unhindered yoga / meditation session to refresh and realign his chakras and reconnect with his body. He’s pretty sure his windows aren’t visible from the sidewalk several stories below anyway, but his cat has walked in on him in compromising positions once or twice.

GROUP E 

Skyler

━ Searches for his birth family online when he's drunk ━ He can quote Pretty Woman word for word ━ Once cried for an hour straight at a Cher concert because he thought she was so wonderful

Mai

━ She has the biggest crush on her best friend Beckett and it terrifies her. ━ She suffers from nightmares, so she chooses to use night time for writing or going on walks to avoid sleeping. ━ Though she says she has, she still has yet to let go of her mother’s death after almost nine years of the event passing.

Zahra

━ When Zahra moved to New York, her parents thought she was enrolled in university, but she actually dropped out to become a singer. ━ The night before the day her brother went missing Zahra ignored several phone calls from him because she was auditioning for a gig. ━ Since her return to Santa Monica 2 months ago, Zahra and her parents have been seeing a therapist.

Ophelia

━ The summer before college, Ophelia had a fling with one of her father’s associates. ━ When she was 7, she accidentally melted the face off her sister’s favorite Barbie doll by trying to blow dry her hair. Her sister thinks the dog mangled her doll to this day. ━ When filming her first television show, Ophelia had a crush on her co-star.

GROUP F 

Nathan

━ Before making it big, he had a very brief fling with his boss at the magazine he was working for, who had promised to help him with his career. They lied and he soon realised he needed to do it all himself ━ During his time on the football team in high school, he spent most of his time smoking weed under the bleachers than actually putting the time into practise. ━ Despite still being a major flirt from time to time, Nathan’s avoided dating and everything that goes with it since his divorce for fear of messing that up just like he did his marriage.

Adelaide

━ Has struggled with anorexia for years. ━ Cheated on an ex boyfriend with his best friend in high school ━ Was a bully/mean girl in high school

Alexandra

━ Former worked as a dominatrix Madame Mercy ━ During a weding reception she made out with the groom while everyone else was dancing. ━ Gave her panties to a random guy in order to get a cab, then had sex with said guy in order to get a free ride

Diana

━ Has never learned to drive ━ Will always take the stairs instead of the elevator as they suffer from claustrophobia ━ Walked out on her last boyfriend while he was unconscious in hospital

GROUP G

Iris

━ cried once in order to get out of getting a ticket ━  is obsessed with watching old 90’s cartoons and anime at odd hours of the night ━ had a miscarriage courtesy of her abusive ex-boyfriend

Noah

━ Was actually born in to the Aldridge family, but was kept from the truth his whole life. ━ Failed his drivers test multiple times ━ Used to be bankrupt when taking care of his siblings and had to take loans that took him years to pay off.

Ava

━ Lost her virginity to Alex’s boyfriend at the time ━ Still sleeps with a stuffed animal dog ━ Tells people she graduated from college even if she never attended

RJ

━ RJ is not over his last relationship because he still has feelings for his ex-girlfriend. ━ RJ once ran a popular twitter update account for Rihanna when he was in high school. ━ Before he struck fame with Reckless, RJ was a featured artist on a song, the collaboration was horrible; they also had an accompanying cringey music video produced; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sX6IhJ8wAKw

GROUP H 

Jackson

━ Kissed Kourtney Kardashian  ━ Almost got caught trying to shoplift but played it off as an accident ━ Lied on his resmue about knowing how to tap dance. 

Bianca

━ plays pokemon go religiously ━ truly believes in the supernatural ━ is a published romance author under the pen name Veronica Vanburen

Kaden

━  Never disclosed the fact her parents are criminals and drug addicts to the police academy. ━  Had an affair with a married man ━ She constantly uses hot sauce on any food she can--pasta, sandwiches, burgers, etc.

Abigail

━ In the week before her wedding she had one too many and kissed a girl in a bar restroom. ━ Still rings home once a month and leaves a message despite her parents never returning her calls. ━ Once drove 36 hours to the house she’d once shared with her fiance only to lose her nerve and turn around once she saw he was home.

Jack

━ From age 5-12, Parker has swallowed every piece of gum he's ever chewed. ━ He hates needles and faints very easily at the sight of blood draws ━  He slept with a girl who had a boyfriend four times in one night and then fell in love with her although she decided to stay with her long-term boyfriend.

GROUP I 

Emre

━ purposely let his academic progress go to waste while attending Dartmouth and was put on academic probation twice ━ had a relationship with a woman that was a close friends to his parents when he was 21 and she 42; the relationship wasn’t serious and they only saw each other for about three months ━ one of his first investments fell through with two million dollars on the line from his trust fund

Breeland

━ She is aware of the fact that her drinking has gotten out of control and has been talking to someone about it quietly. ━ Agreed to go on a date with a cop to get out of a speeding ticket. ━ Almost had a drunken hook up with the head of the label she works for even though he’s married

Spencer

━ She catfished a guy on Tinder after he broke one of her best friends’ hearts. ━ Spencer was arrested for assaulting a classmate in high school and had to do counseling and community service. ━ Spence was being stalked by an ex-boyfriend last year and had to get a restraining order against him.

Logan

━  Likes pineapple on pizza ━ Enjoys fruity alcoholic drinks. ━ When he goes out he loosen the salt shakers tops so it spills on whoever is after him/around him.

GROUP J 

Richie

━ The first ever guitar Richard has, he stole. He didn’t want to ask his parents to keep buying him things when they disagreed with his chosen career path, so he went out and stole it so he could write music. ━ Richard cannot remember most of the women he’s been with, by not remembering their names; he came up with a system so that he tells them apart by numbers. ━ Although it may not appear so in every day life, Richie sometimes struggle with his self image while under the pressure of social media comments and expectations for what he should look like.

Mara

━ had a miscarriage when she was 22 ━ she knows that Noah Sinclair is their half brother ━ she used to write fanfictions

Freya

━ she is still a virgin but secretly wants to have sex. ━ she still suffers from partial memory loss of certain major events but tries to act like she knows what her family is talking about. ━ she’s having blackouts and sleepwalks to random places.

Kessa

━ Spent a week in a mental hospital after finding out about her biological family. ━ Constantly feels disconnected with her biological family/because of that disconnect she’s forced to do therapy twice a week by her moms. ━ Was a married couples third for over a year.

GROUP K

Faye 

━ While back in the UK, she made the decision to track down the child she gave up at birth and was rather swiftly denied any contact. ━ Faye recently found out that her family is broke following her father’s scandal. She was the only one with any money, most of which she used for her education in Washington.  ━ She returned to the US stressed and feeling out of control, so her friend took her on a vacation to Vegas where she could be out of control. The weekend ended up very messy and she ended up married to someone she’d only just met.

Sutton

━ Was aware her ex-fiance was cheating, but was too scared to be alone so she pretended to not know.  ━ Skinny dips every third Sunday of the month before dawn.  ━ Even though she should have gave the ring back, Sutton actually paid and kept her engagement right after her engagement ended, it is now in her jewelry box. 

Thalia

━ When she was a tween, Thalia tried and failed at becoming a popular ‘youtuber’. At the time her channel featured vlogs, dancing, baking, and makeup tutorials. ━ Thalia cheated during monopoly at her family’s game night and still feels guilty.  ━  Thalia uses popular hookup apps for the attention she gets, but she never actually meets up with anyone.

Leyla

━ Slept with one of her professors at Harvard ━ Still watches Disney films when she’s having a bad day ━ Once escaped a one night stand by climbing out of a top floor window

#santamevent2

[phroyd]

WASHINGTON — The Justice Department’s inspector general on Thursday painted a harsh portrait of the F.B.I. during the 2016 presidential election, describing a destructive culture in which James B. Comey, the former director, was “insubordinate,” senior officials privately bashed Donald J. Trump and agents came to distrust prosecutors.

The 500-page report criticized Mr. Comey for breaking with longstanding policy and publicly discussing — in a news conference and a pair of letters in the middle of the campaign — an investigation into Hillary Clinton’s use of a private email server in handling classified information. The report was a firm rebuke of those actions, which Mr. Comey has tried for months to defend.

Nevertheless, the inspector general, Michael E. Horowitz, did not challenge the conclusion that Mrs. Clinton should not be prosecuted. That investigation loomed over most of the presidential campaign, and Mr. Horowitz and his investigators uncovered no proof that political opinions at the F.B.I. influenced its outcome.

“We found no evidence that the conclusions by department prosecutors were affected by bias or other improper considerations,” he wrote. “Rather, we concluded that they were based on the prosecutor’s assessment of facts, the law and past department practice.”

But the report — initiated in response to a chorus of requests from Congress and the public — was far from an exoneration. Mr. Horowitz was unsparing in his criticism of Mr. Comey and referred five F.B.I. employees for possible discipline over pro-Clinton or anti-Trump commentary in electronic messages. He said agents were far too cozy with journalists. And he described a breakdown in the chain of command, calling it “extraordinary” that the attorney general acceded to Mr. Comey during the most controversial moments of the Clinton investigation.

The result, Mr. Horowitz said, undermined public confidence in the F.B.I. and sowed doubt about the bureau’s handling of the Clinton investigation, which even two years later remains politically divisive. Mrs. Clinton’s supporters blame Mr. Comey for her election loss. Mr. Trump believes that Mr. Comey and his agents conspired to clear Mrs. Clinton of wrongdoing because they were openly hostile to his candidacy.

Mr. Horowitz repeatedly said he found no evidence that the F.B.I. rigged the outcome. “Our review did not find documentary or testimonial evidence directly connecting the political views these employees expressed in their text messages and instant messages to the specific investigative decisions we reviewed,” the report said.

The report is especially critical of two F.B.I. officials, Peter Strzok and Lisa Page, who exchanged texts disparaging Mr. Trump. Many of those text messages had already been released, but the report cites a previously undisclosed exchange:

Mr. Trump is “not ever going to become president, right? Right?!” Ms. Page wrote.

“No,” Mr. Strzok wrote. “No he won’t. We’ll stop it.”

Ms. Page has left the F.B.I. and Mr. Strzok has been reassigned to human resources. Like other top F.B.I. officials, they were involved in both the Clinton case and the investigation into the Trump campaign’s ties to Russia. So while the inspector general’s report focuses entirely on the Clinton case, it has ramifications for the investigation being carried out by the special counsel, Robert S. Mueller III. Any evidence of bias or rule-breaking in one case could be used to undermine confidence in the other.

Mr. Trump has repeatedly declared the Russia investigation a “witch hunt” and was eagerly anticipating the release of Thursday’s report. He was briefed on it but was notably silent about the conclusions.

The Republican National Committee, though, distributed talking points to supporters criticizing a “fervent anti-Trump bias” and calling for Mr. Strzok’s termination. The White House press secretary, Sarah Huckabee Sanders, offered few remarks.

“It reaffirmed the president’s suspicions about Comey’s conduct and the political bias among some of the members of the F.B.I.,” she said. But she referred questions to the current F.B.I. director, Christopher A. Wray.

Mr. Wray, in a rare news conference, said he took the report seriously but said that nothing in the report “impugns the integrity” of the F.B.I. “Our brand is doing just fine,” he said.

The Justice Department's inspector general released a report on Thursday detailing the F.B.I.'s handling of the Clinton email investigation during the 2016 presidential election.

Mr. Wray was confirmed last year after the abrupt firing of Mr. Comey, and the report serves as an unflattering book end to Mr. Comey’s three-and-a-half-year tenure. The findings sharply criticize his judgment as he injected the F.B.I. into presidential politics in ways not seen since at least the Watergate era.

Mr. Comey held a news conference in July 2016 to announce that he was recommending no charges against Mrs. Clinton and to publicly chastise her email practices. It was highly unorthodox; the Justice Department, not the F.B.I., makes charging decisions. And officials have been reprimanded for injecting their opinions into legal conclusions. Mr. Comey withheld his plans for a public statement from his bosses at the Justice Department.

“It was extraordinary and insubordinate for Comey to do so,” the inspector general wrote, “and we found none of his reasons to a persuasive basis for deviating from well-established department policies in a way intentionally designed to avoid supervision by department leadership.”

Then in late October, over the objection of top Justice Department officials,Mr. Comey sent a letter to Congress disclosing that agents were scrutinizing new evidence in the Clinton case.

That evidence did not change the outcome of the inquiry, but Mrs. Clinton and many of her supporters blame Mr. Comey’s late disclosure for her defeat. Former campaign aides expressed disbelief Thursday at another revelation in the report — that Mr. Comey had used a private email account to conduct official F.B.I. business while he supervised the investigation into Mrs. Clinton’s email practices. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry,” said Brian Fallon, the former campaign spokesman.

And Mrs. Clinton herself responded on Twitter, noting only, “But my emails.”

Mr. Comey has defended his actions, saying he would have faced criticism for any decision, so he opted to be transparent. F.B.I. officials have acknowledged that they made those decisions in part because they assumed Mrs. Clinton would win, and they worried about appearing to conceal information to help her.

Mr. Comey and his agents also grew suspicious of Justice Department prosecutors. Working-level agents wanted prosectors to be more aggressive — a tension that the inspector general found “caused significant strife and mistrust” between the two groups.

Mr. Comey, too, said his decisions were influenced in part by concerns that political appointees at the Justice Department did not have the credibility to close the investigation. In an Op-Ed published in The New York Timesresponding to the report, Mr. Comey said he believed he was making the right decisions at the time.

“As painful as the whole experience has been, I still believe that,” he wrote. “And nothing in the inspector general’s report makes me think we did the wrong thing.”

Mr. Comey has cultivated a reputation for fierce independence and supreme self-confidence. Those traits were both assets and vulnerabilities. Agents widely saw him as a strong leader.

But Mr. Comey believed that he was the only one who could steer the F.B.I. through the political winds of the Clinton case, and that left him alone to answer for the bureau’s actions.

Officially at least, Mr. Comey’s handling of the Clinton case cost him his job. After the firing, the White House held up as justification a Justice Department memo that criticized many of the actions now highlighted by the inspector general. In that regard, the inspector general would seem to underscore the stated reason for Mr. Comey’s dismissal.

But Mr. Trump has muddied this issue. Hours after the firing, he undercut his own staff and said that he had planned to fire Mr. Comey even before receiving the recommendation. He said he had been thinking about the Russia investigation when he fired Mr. Comey. His lawyer, Rudolph W. Giuliani, added more recently that Mr. Comey was fired for refusing to publicly exonerate Mr. Trump in the Russia case.

Those comments, along with Mr. Comey’s account of private conversations with the president, prompted the appointment of a special counsel to begin investigating Mr. Trump for possible obstruction of justice. That inquiry continues. The inspector general’s report does not directly affect that case, though anything that undermines Mr. Comey’s credibility is politically and legally beneficial to Mr. Trump.

The inspector general is separately reviewing some aspects of the Russia investigation, including Mr. Trump’s theory — backed up by no evidence — that the F.B.I. spied on his campaign for political purposes. Those matters were not covered in Thursday’s report.

Mr. Horowitz’s investigation has already led to the firing of one top F.B.I. official, the former deputy director Andrew G. McCabe. Mr. Horowitz issued a report in March that said Mr. McCabe had been dishonest about his contacts with the news media about Mrs. Clinton.

Mr. McCabe has been a frequent target of Mr. Trump’s ire and is central to his theory that the F.B.I. secretly worked to exonerate Mrs. Clinton. Mr. McCabe’s wife ran unsuccessfully as a Democrat for the Virginia State Senate and received significant campaign donations from an ally of Mrs. Clinton. Despite the president’s criticism, the inspector general said on Thursday that Mr. McCabe had not been required to recuse himself from the Clinton case.

Among Mr. Horowitz’s original tasks was to identify whether F.B.I. agents improperly disclosed information about the Clinton case to reporters. But his inquiry was stymied, he said, because improper contacts with journalists were so common. “The large number of F.B.I. employees who were in contact with journalists during this time period impacted our ability to identify the sources of leaks,” he wrote.

The report omitted any discussion of a potential leak of information in fall 2016 to Mr. Giuliani, who was then one of Mr. Trump’s key campaign surrogates but not yet his lawyer. Shortly before Mr. Comey announced the discovery of new emails in the Clinton case, Mr. Giuliani appeared on Fox News and hinted that major news was about to break: “I mean, I’m talking about some pretty big surprises,” he said.

Mr. Horowitz has indicated that another report addressing leaks is forthcoming. It is not clear whether Mr. Giuliani’s remarks will be addressed.

Reporting was contributed by Nicholas Fandos, Charlie Savage, Adam Goldman, Katie Benner and Michael S. Schmidt.

Phroyd

#strzok #peter #comey #insoector general

[dykedteach]

more prompts from this series of drabbles! another flinthamilton one, more fluff because it’s the only thing I know how to write!

---

"I can’t believe you!”

It had been an excruciatingly long three weeks. He had agreed to go on behalf of his father, with the understanding that he’d be much more likely to close on a deal, having had a much warmer relationship with their contact in Florence than Alfred did. What was assumed to be a week spent in Italy, a few evenings spent pouring over contracts while sat in the heat of the setting sun, had suddenly turned into three weeks of meeting new business contacts, video conferences held with his father from the comfort of his air conditioned hotel room, and even a trip to Bologna by request to meet with his father’s lawyer. Now, after three weeks of this routine, four hours waiting at the airport for his delayed plane, eating crisps and finishing his paperback, two hours in the air spent anxiously flipping through the in-flight magazine and picking at his fingernails, and twenty five minutes shuffling along passport control, he was finally within reach again. James.

When it had looked like it would only take a week to reach a deal, Thomas had offered to pay for James to come with him, knowing that he’d easily amuse himself within the city while he attended droll meeting upon droll meeting, and picturing candlelit dinners on terraces together during his free time. Ultimately, it was James’ own work that prevented them going together. He had told Thomas it was unlikely the school would let him have a week off, and when one potential week away from work turned into three they both knew it was impossible. So, Thomas had steeled himself for three weeks without James. 

Thomas messaged him pictures throughout his day, from architecture, sunsets, and badly angled selfies, to pictures of street cats, his newest literary purchases, and particularly interesting looking sandwiches. In return, he got emails during James’ work day, multi paragraphed things that detailed his every move, from his breakfast, to what Mrs Mason at number 78 had said to him that morning as he was leaving, to stupid comments his students had made during his lessons. He knew James checked his phone on his breaks, and never minded having a backlog of photos to respond to. They adjusted. They made do. 

But now? Now, Thomas could see him over the heads of the people crowding the airport, slouched in an armchair at the coffee shop, tapping the side of his drink absent-mindedly while he checked his phone. Thomas’ suitcase had been one of the first to come out on the conveyor, and so he’d managed to get ahead of the rabble, which was why James probably hadn’t yet realised that his flight had let out. He resisted the urge, somehow, to run.

The second he came into James’ view, both coffee and phone had been dropped unceremoniously on the table, and he’d come rushing towards him, arms coming up to wind around his neck before he’d even had a chance to speak. His hand came up to cradle the back of James’ head, and he marvelled at the feeling of the soft, coppery strands under his palm. With the other, he cupped a hard jaw, thumb stroking along the hair there, much neater now than it had looked in the pictures James had sent only hours before, when Thomas had been catching his taxi to the airport.

“You’ve shaved.” he said, smiling as his eyes roved over James’ form, taking in every detail. He wore the smart looking shirt Thomas had bought him for Christmas, his beard had been carefully trimmed, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he did the same to Thomas.

“You’re more tanned than you looked in the photos. The sun suits you.” James said with a grin, stroking over his cheek. He leaned in towards him, hand still on his face, and kissed him for the first time in twenty one whole days. Thomas closed his eyes, swaying into the kiss, but James decided to break away from him altogether too soon.

“Come on, you.” he chuckled, reaching past him to grab the suitcase handle. “There’s only a certain amount of public attention I’m willing to deal with at six in the morning in the arrivals lounge. I don’t want to go on Twitter later and see some teenager going viral with, ‘Oh look, here’s two old men I saw getting off with each other at Gatwick.’, thank you very much.”. 

“Old men?” Thomas laughed, smacking him on the arm. 

He picked up James’ phone and almost-empty coffee, grabbing his spare hand after sliding the mobile into his back pocket.

“You’re a dick, and I’ve missed you dearly.” 

“I love you, too.”

---

They had managed to hit peak rush hour traffic, although it didn’t seem to annoy Thomas as much as usual. The slow crawl down the motorway gave him the excuse to drink in James, his profile as he drove, the stretch of denim over his thighs, his knuckles on the steering wheel. He slouched in his seat, watching James with adoration.

“What food have you got at home? I’m starving, didn’t eat anything proper on the plane.” he said, rolling his shoulders back against the headrest. 

“I went shopping yesterday, don’t worry. Eggs, bacon, hash browns, cranberry juice. Got all of your favourite bits.” 

“Thanks, love.” Thomas said with a sigh. He looked ahead at the road, watching the early morning sun creep up the skyline. A buzz came from the pocket of his jeans, and he groaned, throwing his head back against the seat. “That will be my father, already. Jesus, I didn’t even tell him what time the plane was getting back today, he must have tracked it...”

“Whatever he wants, tell him to fuck off.” James grumbled. “Actually, just don’t reply, because he’ll ask you to come to his office, and you’re mine for the rest of the weekend. I decided already.”

Thomas snorted, unlocking his phone to read the paragraph his father had sent him. 

“Did you now?” he said, playing along with James’ little game. He had no intention of speaking to his father again until Monday, which James rightly knew.

“I did. I’ve not seen you in three weeks, he’s not allowed to have you. He could try dragging you by the ankles from our bed, if he liked, and I’d be there waiting to fight him off, bollock-naked and armed with a hammer.”

He laughed then, bringing his hand up to ruffle the back of James’ hair. 

“Don’t worry, darling. You’ve got me all weekend to yourself.” he said, running his fingers over James’ scalp. He saw goosebumps rise on the creamy pale skin of his neck, and James began to shift in his seat. 

“Thomas, in case it’s escaped your notice-” James started, voice strained as he craned his head into the touch. He could see that his knuckles were starting to turn white on the wheel. “I am still driving.”

As much as he enjoyed riling James up with little touches, those moments of contact even more endearing to him now after having been separated for so long, Thomas gave up with a chuckle, instead leaning forward into James’ space.

“Luckily, you’re quite the proficient dr-”, he began, before getting cut off by a sharp hiss from James. Thomas had been resting one hand on his upper chest, and had patted it while he’d been talking to James. He frowned at the man, who had now schooled his features into a cold stare, eyes fixed on the road ahead of them.

“What happened?” Thomas asked, his voice having dropped an octave. He’d retreated back to his own seat, but he’d become hyper aware of the stiff way that James held himself, and the twitch of his eye when he rolled his shoulder.

“Nothing you need to be concerned about.”

James tried to swat him away with one hand when Thomas reached a hand out to pull at his collar, his jaw clenched as he began to drive forwards. The traffic had started to ease, and the road stole his focus. He sighed, giving in to Thomas’ ministrations.

“It’s nothing, really.” he said, both hands back on the steering wheel, allowing Thomas full access to his chest. He undid the top two buttons, gently pulling back the shirt and exposing the long, angry looking graze that crossed the side of James’ upper chest.

“I assume,” Thomas began, inspecting the wound with his brow furrowed. “You aren’t going to tell me how this happened?”

James coughed, his eyes darting back and forth between the moving traffic and Thomas’ fingers tracing gently over the pink skin around the graze. It had looked like he’d cleaned and treated it properly, at least, and Thomas was thankful for that much.

“Fine, you caught me. I went to the pub with Jack after work last Friday, got extremely drunk and woke up with this the next day, no idea how.” said James.

“No, you didn’t.” Thomas said without missing a beat, buttoning up James’ shirt now that he was satisfied with the wound itself. It didn’t look like it was giving James much trouble, and it looked likely to heal up soon without any scarring, as long as James didn’t pick at it. “I saw Max’ Instagram, she took him and Anne out to see an orchestra. Try again.”

“I went to Eleanor’s for tea last week, and her new puppy got a little overexcited.” he said, a barely concealed smirk threatening to pull the side of his mouth upwards.

“Right, and you were shirtless in Eleanor’s living room for what reason exactly?” Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Alright, so the truth was, I subbed in for Jack’s Year 11 drama class while he was off sick, and they were rehearsing the fencing scene he wrote into Hamlet, and one of the lads got a tad too enthusiastic with his foil, and-”

“Bullshit, Jack would never agree to letting you cover his drama groups, he didn’t talk to you for weeks after what happened last time.” Thomas said, his amusement over all of these hastily made up excuses almost eclipsing his concern for James. He mustn’t have thought that Thomas was going to find out so soon, he was normally so much better at having lies prepared in advance, even if only Thomas could see right through them half of the time.

“I can’t tell you.” James finally said, his thumb tapping impatiently on the steering wheel. “I can’t tell you why I can’t, either. It’s...sort of a secret. I can keep on making up stories until we get home, or you can-” he stopped, catching himself, eyes flickering over towards Thomas, who braced his fingers on James’ forearm, a comforting press.

“Or I can what?” he asked, rubbing circles into James’ clothed skin. He stared up at the man, waiting for him to break. James sighed, bringing the fingers of the hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel to rest over Thomas’.

“Or, you can wait until we get home and you’ll see for yourself.” James said with a deep sigh. He saw his chest heave as he dragged his hand away to focus on driving, now that they were coming off of the motorway and away from the traffic. He almost felt bad for pressing James, he’d clearly been meaning to keep this secret tightly under wraps until they had gotten home, whatever it was. Thomas chose to hold his tongue, for now at least, on the matter.

He pulled his own hand back, giving James a bright smile.

“Alright, so what did you fancy doing for dinner later? I’d suggest going out for something, but I assume you’d rather not?” he said, earning an amused snort from his right. 

“You keep yourself away from me for three weeks, and then suggest spending our first night back together in public?” he said, voice incredulous as he shook his head. “You assume correctly.”

They had stopped at a set of lights, and James took a moment to turn as best he could towards him, a soft smile directed his way.

“There’s nowhere on this Earth I’d rather be this evening than sat between your legs, eating a takeaway and watching shit television. Though I’ll gladly take you out somewhere nice next week, after work one evening maybe.”

He grinned back at his partner, nodding forward when he noticed the lights having changed. James coughed, turning back to the wheel to drive and ignoring the horn beeping from behind them.

“That sounds wonderful. I’ll probably need it more after having dealt with my father, anyway.”

They spent the rest of the drive home discussing takeaway options for the evening, pushing the issue of James’ injury, and the surprise awaiting him at home, from Thomas’ mind.

---

They had pulled up to their shared apartment in good time, and James had refused to let him carry his own suitcase up the two staircases leading to their floor.

“Stop fussing, would you?” he said, holding back a laugh as he watched James stubbornly stomp up the concrete steps ahead of him, the case in hand.

“For fucks sake, I’m trying to be gentlemanly.” James grumbled, grunting as he maneuvered around a corner. “How much shit did you buy out there?”

Thomas did, incidentally, have a habit of being slightly overzealous with souvenirs from his travels. Admittedly, a fair bit of the added weight in his case was likely due to hard copies of agreements and photocopies of legal documents that he had agreed to bring back to his father. The new shirts, shoes, and bottles of Italian liqueurs he had brought back with him probably hadn’t helped either. 

“I didn’t even go over my weight allowance!” he protested, although it had been a genuine worry of his when he’d been packing back at his hotel the evening before. They arrived at their corridor, James fumbling in his pockets with one hand as they walked down the stretch to their front door. 

Thomas stopped against the wall with a sigh, looking around as he waited for James to unlock the apartment. Same hall, same awfully patterned carpet, same gaudy yellow doormat outside of Mrs Mason’s. Three weeks, and his world hadn’t changed even a little bit in his absence. 

He was torn from his moment of contemplation when he realised that James, having unlocked the door to the apartment, hadn’t actually opened that door, but was stood facing Thomas instead, hands buried in his front pockets and with a crease between his eyebrows.

“There’s just one last thing. Before we go inside.” he said, voice stilted as he rocked on his heels. Before Thomas could ask, he produced a familiar looking black silk blindfold from his pocket, holding it up between them.

Thomas raised an eyebrow, his mouth curving up in a smirk.

“So it’s that kind of surprise, then?” he said, taking a step closer to James and putting a hand on his hip. “I mean, I’ve been awake for the better part of twenty four hours, but I’m sure I can summon the energy to-”

“As much-” James interrupted, resting the hand that was holding the blindfold on Thomas’ chest. “As much as I’d love for that to be the case right now, it’s not.” he said, pausing for a moment when he finished, frowning as he considered. “Although, it could be. I suppose. Possibly after breakfast and a nap, though. You do look shattered.”

He nodded, taking the blindfold from James with one hand, and stroking over his knuckles with the other.

“Right, so, if you’re not blindfolding me and tying me up and having your way with me, then...” he pondered out loud, ignoring James’ panicked glance at Mrs Mason’s front door. “What’s this for?”

“I just need to keep the surprise for a little longer, that’s all.” James said, sounding rather nervous. “You’ll see. I promise. Just trust me?”

He grinned, anticipation starting to crawl its way up his spine, and put the blindfold on himself.

“Lead the way.” he said, holding both of his hands out in front of him for James to take.

“Okay just let me- just give me a second.” he heard James say. 

The sound of the door unlatching was immediately followed by the smooth roll of his suitcase wheels, catching on the metal of the threshold and transitioning to soft carpet, where it became muffled. Thomas tried to concentrate on every little sound, searching for any kind of clue from James’ movements. The suitcase stopped still. Then, a small grunt from James. He was...lifting something, perhaps? Footsteps moved to the other side of the room, and the sound of heavy furniture shifting.

“What on earth are you doing?” he called out, not feeling the need to hide his amusement. He tapped his fingers against his thigh, eager and waiting.

James’ footsteps grew closer, before Thomas felt rough hands take hold of his wrists. 

“Clearing a path.” he said, his breath suddenly very warm next to Thomas’ cheek. 

He felt himself being led into the apartment, the ground underneath his feet softening as he stepped into the room. James walked, cautiously, and Thomas focused on their direction. It was hard to decide which way they were facing exactly, as James had manoeuvred them both around furniture and objects which didn’t seem to be in their usual places, but he felt fairly certain that they had come to a stop either at their bedroom door, or the study.

“Are you ready?” James whispered in his ear. He’d come to stand behind him, one hand on his waist and the other reaching in front of him. 

“Mhhm.” he hummed, pressing back against his partner, James’ solid chest meeting the back of his shirt. “Although, I’m happy just to stay like this too.”

He felt James’ chest heave as he sighed, then the arm reaching forward twisted and he heard another latch twist open.

Hands reached into his hair, plucking the elastic from between the strands, lifting the dark silk, and bringing his vision back once more. 

Which was when his jaw dropped.

“I...” he began, the words refusing to come as he stared around the room. “I can’t believe-”

“Take your time, it’s fine.” James said from behind him, his voice a touch smug.

He span around on his heel, grabbing James’ face between his hands.

“You absolutely-” he started, interrupting himself with a kiss to his cheek. “-wonderful, absurd-”, more kisses, peppered over James’ freckled nose and brow. “-ridiculous man.”

He finished by crushing James in an open mouthed kiss, arms tugging his head close, pouring his thanks and his love into that one action.

James tugged him away, a grin having split across his face.

“Why don’t you take a proper look around?”

When his relationship with James had become serious, when James spent more of his free time at Thomas’ apartment than he did at his own rented flat, his shirts and underwear finding their way into Thomas’ wardrobe and his spare toothbrush a near permanent fixture in the bathroom, they had sat down to address the issue of accommodation, and the solution had become quite clear to them both. James would apply for a position at a school close by, and he would move into Thomas’ apartment. James’ initial unease at treating the place like his own home was chipped away through the months by Thomas, who encouraged him to share his space, to make adjustments where needed. 

He had bought the apartment in his youth, under guidance from his father. While he’d have been perfectly happy with living in a much smaller space, his father had insisted that having two bedrooms would give him the necessary room to spread out. He had also, without any subtlety, implied that the smaller room would make an ideal nursery, if he was to ever take a wife. Ignoring his father, he’d turned the room into an area for mostly storage, with a work desk positioned near the one airy window. Once James had joined him, they added another desk into the cluttered room, and it became their shared work space. Evenings were spent in comfortable silence, with James grading papers at one desk, and Thomas muttering over spreadsheets and contracts at the other. Overflowing shelves, folders, and even a long forgotten set of weights littered the space, and Thomas had spoken wistfully many times about the room he wished it could be, given time, patience, and work.

But James? James had taken his vision, and turned it into something beautiful, for them, for him.

“Did you do this alone?” he asked, voice hushed as he approached a wall- well, what was a wall, weeks ago. Now, polished mahogany shelves curled around both sides of the room, heavy under the weight of so many books. He knew that James had experience with woodwork, he’d been taught by his father, had even crafted their kitchen table but...the detail, the finish on the wood, the edges carefully carved into the shelves, the sheer commitment to them was astonishing.

“For the most part, yes.” James said, still standing in the doorway, hands behind his back. “I had Billy source the wood for me, and he loaned me a few of the larger tools. Gates heard what I was doing, and found the rug, said it would look good with the wood stain.”

He toed the rug in question then, a large, ornate design in a deep red and navy knit. Thomas stayed silent, still taken aback by the whole thing, gazing over the titles on show. Books he recognised instantly, books he didn’t, carefully arranged spaces waiting to be filled with future purchases...

“This is all of them. You’ll have to forgive me for my attempt at organising them, though. The ones that were already in here, plus the ones in the bottom of the wardrobe, the boxes from under the bed. I even let Miranda know what I was doing, and she donated a box from her collection. She’ll be chasing you up on those, though, to make sure you’re reading them.” James said with a snort, earning a laugh from Thomas. “I checked out your wish list, too. The books you kept on putting off buying because we didn’t have the room? Well, most of them are second hand, but they’re here.”

Thomas turned around and beamed at him. He stepped forward, stroking a thumb across James’ cheek.

“You are, without a doubt, the best man I have ever met.” he said, bringing their foreheads together. “You built me a library, James.”

“And, just as important, somewhere you can Skype clients from with pride, without having to worry they’ll see what a mess it is in here.” James said, his lips pulling into a grin against the side of Thomas’ mouth. “You’ve not even looked at your desk, yet.”

He was taken by the hand in an instant, led by James to the desk at the centre of the room. The items that had been on his old worn desk were still here, his pen pot, the plant, the framed picture of him and James in swim shorts on the beach with the setting sun of the Caribbean behind them. This desk, however, was made of the same shining wood as his shelves, sturdy and bright, with swirls and patterns carved into its edges. James had even upholstered his comfy office chair anew, to match the rest of the room. His paperwork lay in drawers built into either side of the desk, neatly arranged and waiting for him.

A sudden thought occurred to him, and he span around to fix James with a frown.

“Where will you work?” he asked. James stood tall, his chest puffing out in a moment of pride, and he went around to the other side of the desk. Behind it sat a cushioned bench, positioned low under the curtained window and between two of the book cases, giving the appearance of a window seat. He sat down on the cushions there, folded his arms over his chest, and smiled up at Thomas.

“Right here.”

“You’ll do no such thing.” he fired back. “You don’t have any space to spread your papers out on, you can’t write on anything-”

“Almost all of my work is done electronically, and I can perch here with my laptop, and look-” he said, reaching beside him. A re-purposed bar cart rolled towards him, and he opened a drawer to show Thomas his own papers, neatly organised.

He was impressed with James’ hard work, of course he was, how could he not be? But it had come with personal sacrifice from James, which he wasn’t entirely pleased with, if he was honest with himself. Although, speaking of personal sacrifice...

“Are you going to tell me how this happened, now?” Thomas said, reaching down to unbutton James’ collar, wanting a better look at his injury now that they were in the privacy of their own home. James sat pliant, his back against the window while Thomas’ fingers worked on his shirt. 

“I should have taken photographs of this place while I was doing the bulk of the job. It was quite literally my workshop, for a better part of a week. You’d have hated the mess, it looked as if a bomb had g-careful.” he hissed, Thomas having prodded around the wound.

“Sorry, love. I’ll clean it again properly in a bit, just to make sure.” he said, holding back a smirk. He redirected his attention to the rest of James’ buttons. “Go on, you were saying? Workshop? Bomb site?”

“Right. Anyway, I came home from work one evening, a little bit too eager to get started, and tripped over a pile of wood. Fell into a different pile of wood, and scraped down my chest. Had to sit with a pair of tweezers in front of the mirror for an hour, but it’s fine for the most part.”

Thomas nodded along to the conversation, having slowly reached the bottom of James’ shirt. 

“I see.” he said, walking his fingers back up James’ chest, dancing over his pectorals. He felt James breathing underneath his hands.

He brought one knee up to the window seat, half straddling James’ lap.

“So what, exactly, are we going to do about your desk?” he purred, edging up towards James’ jaw. “Because you can’t work on that cart, you simply can’t.”

“Well...” James breathed out, one eyebrow curving upwards as he spoke. “What do you suggest?”

Thomas brought his other leg upwards, dropping into James’ lap.

“There’s enough space in here now for two desks in the middle. I’ll help you build yours, I don’t want you getting hurt again.” he said, low in James’ ear, brushing his hands back downwards as he spoke, trailing over patches of hair, and landing on his nipples. He felt James’ arms come up behind him, cradling his back in a sturdy hold. “We’ll make it together.” he whispered. 

James leaned in, bringing their lips together in a heated kiss. Thomas nipped gently at his bottom lip, sucking at it before pulling away slightly.

“Thank you. I mean it. From the very bottom of my heart, thank you, for this, for you.” he said, his thumb tracing over the curve of James’ spit-slick mouth. James gazed back at him, sea green eyes that felt like home to Thomas, like life, filled with warmth. 

“I love you, so fucking much, more than words. I’d build a hundred libraries for you, given the chance.” he said, his voice roughened. His hands tightened at Thomas’ back, sliding up under his shirt, callouses (was it just his imagination, Thomas thought to himself, or were there more of them now than there had been before he’d gone to Italy?) rubbing up against warm skin. “Please tell me you’re willing to postpone a nap, for a little while at least?” 

He ground downwards into James’ lap, nipping at his jaw as he did so.

“We’ll find our way into bed eventually, I’m sure.” he teased, hands trailing downwards towards his waistband, the sun shining beams through the wide window at James’ back.

He was home, and it was perfection. 

#james flint #thomas hamilton #flinthamilton #black sails #black sails fic #laura writes #drabble list

[yoyoplisetsky]

I’ve had a long past few weeks and been very busy, so technically this list is for like,,, 2 weeks, but I want to get back on track, so I’m pretending like it’s only for 1. Hopefully, starting next week, I’ll be able to read/write more frequently again. Hopefully? :) Anyway, I hope you enjoy the fics I liked “this week”. As always, please please send me suggestions if you have some ^^ Also this list is like 75% Nuri and Meg and I’m only half sorry for it. Also! This time I tried to link tumblrs as much as I could; pls tell me if you know a tumblr I didn’t link :)

What I Read This Week (7/2-7/9)

The Westchester Samba - FullmetalChords - @phoenixrei - Victor knew a lot of things about his fiancé. He knew that he loved dogs, especially poodles. He knew that he was allergic to dairy and had a special fondness for a Japanese dish called katsudon. He knew that he’d taken dance lessons when he was young, and that he’d thought of going pro before realizing that art theft was a lot more lucrative. He knew every mole, every scar, every stretch mark on his body, and had spent considerable time learning and worshipping each one. He knew his fears, and he knew his dreams. He did not, however, know his name. (My review: Probs my fave story in Meg’s thief au tbh)

patellofemoral pain syndrome (Ch. 1-2) - seventhstar - @pencilwalla - It’s just…does Viktor not get bored with doing it the same way every night? Doesn’t he want to spice things up? Is Yuuri being unreasonable? He’s pretty sure that if Viktor told him his performance in bed was unsatisfying his soul would flee his body for a more merciful plane of existence, but…Viktor is thicker-skinned than he is. And so here they are. Viktor’s bed is wide and soft, and Yuuri is lying there with wet hair and ratty boxers while Viktor absently trails kisses over his shoulder. It’s nice. It’s soft. It’s good. Viktor’s headboard is enormous and Yuuri keeps thinking about Viktor’s wrists bound to it, black rope over white skin. Fuck. He should say something. (My review: Nuri’s arthritis porn is A+++ everyone needs to read it okay?)

even sinners have hearts (Ch. 1-2) - seventhstar - @pencilwalla​ - Alexei Ivanov is watching Yuuri as he lifts the cup to his mouth. His lips part to drink; Yuuri has never wanted to be a mouthful of sake more. I have to kill him, Yuuri thinks, and he stands up and announces to the room the time and place of the tour he’s giving tomorrow. Or, the one where they're powered criminals in love. (My review: HOOOOOOOO BOY YOU KNOW WHAT I NEED? SOME TELEPATHY MM YES. YES. WRECK THEM NURI I MEAN YUURI)

Eros, and Other Love Stories - FullmetalChords - @phoenixrei - Eros. Yuuri understands it in theory, of course. He’s seen what must be hundreds of movies about the very topic, but never really understood them. Never understood why the protagonists of these films make such fools of themselves for sex, or why they fall head over heels in love with the first pretty face they see. He nods and smiles and sighs along with the rest of them… but he’s never related to those characters’ struggles. Not even a little. What is wrong with him?- - A character study of Japan's ace, Katsuki Yuuri. (My review: I sitll haven’t commented on this because I’m 8.2 million years behind on everything but w o w Meg’s ace!Yuuri blew me away. Unbelievable)

The Triple Lutz Job (Ch. 1-4) - FullmetalChords - @phoenixrei​ - Backed by the world's foremost hackers, grifters, and thieves, Victor Nikiforov works the other side of the law to fight against injustice on behalf of the underprivileged. When a woman asks for his help in retrieving stolen government data, Victor and his team infiltrate a local figure skating competition in order to take down a corrupt CEO. But beneath the ice's frigid beauty lurk many perilous secrets that may be more than even the world's greatest thieves can handle. (My review: IT’S ABOUT FSAJKFSING TIME I READ THIS MEG I’M DYING MEG’S OTABEK IS BEST OTABEK.)

Twice The Love For Yuuri - smutinator - @smutinator​ - Yuuri and Viktor go camping and end up having a three-way with Viktor's fairy doppelganger. (My review: Look, I always need more vyv. We all know that. Very well written and A+.)

Six Hours Ahead (Ch. 6-10) - alipiee - @alipiee​ - (In which Yuuri unknowingly befriends Viktor online and gushes to him about the living legend himself) (My review: Another story I was 50 years behind on. I love this super sweet au, and I live for Niki and Yuuri. It’s very cute and ccan’t wait for more)

never tasted rubies - ebenroot - @ebenroot​ - Phichit puts up a poll on the radio website. It reads ‘What Do U Think About Yuuri K. from Hasetsu Nights and the Mysterious Caller Victor?’ Seventy-five percent of listeners said ‘lol they should just f*ck already tbh’. -- in which Yuuri is an unwilling radio host and Victor won't stop calling in to chat with him (My review: I feel like I might hvae read this one before but ??? it’s???? so good??? Definitely a favorite in the fandom)

(Don't Stop) 'Til You Knock On My Door - FullmetalChords - @phoenixrei - “And…” Victor wets his lips. “You… want this?” A sly smile spreads across Yuuri’s face. “I want,” Yuuri says, putting his hands on Victor’s hips as he pulls him closer, “to give you what you need.” He brushes his thumbs over Victor’s hip bones. “Will you tell me what you need now?” -- Yuuri is ace. Victor is not. They both find a way to get what they need from each other. (My review: Ace!Yuuri feat. Viktor getting no control in his life for once because he fucking needs that sometimes. God, Meg killed me. Again.)

While you were sleeping - Chessala - @chessala - In which Yuuri falls into a Coma after saving Viktor's life and Viktor is having a hard time dealing with it. (My review: I shouldn’t have any room to say “this is so sad” with me also writing a mcd this week but also how dare you i loved it)

Reptiles - KasumiChou - @kasumi-chou - Yuri was over JJ spamming him pictures of his snakes. Snakes were not cool. No. Nope. Cats were one hundred times better. And then he finds out how hot Otabek looks with a snake around his neck. (My review: So I’m def super behind on Kas’s Twitter au, but she did this thing with snakes and I needed more. This is my fault. <3 u kas. I loved it)

The Virtue of Sin (Ch. 1) - DefiantDreams - @gia-comeatme - When Yuuri comes home to 7 demons, each embodying the 7 Deadly Sins, it’s honestly the least of his worries.Surprisingly, they help him get back on his feet, succeed in his career and get the man of his dreams.(But, as with anything, there is a price.) (My review: so I saw essa reblog this prompt and was immediately excited because a) i love essa and b) the prompt looked great and she did not let me down, excited for more!!) 

How You Turned My World, You Precious Thing - cuttlemefish - @cuttlemefishwrites - Labyrinth-inspired (1986) AU. When Viktor’s sister dies in a car crash, he’s left to take care of his one-year-old nephew Yuri, despite barely knowing how to take care of himself. It’s too bad Viktor has accidentally wished Yuri away to the Goblin King, whose killer eye-shadow game and glitter storms are nothing compared to the Labyrinth protecting his castle. Now, Viktor has 13 hours to get Yuri back or he risks losing him forever to the Goblin King, who also has 13 hours to convince Viktor that forever is not long at all. (My review: the labyrinth au i didn’t know I needed until z started to write it - feat. baby yurio, goblin king yuuri, and clueless viktor who is definitely at fault for this)

What I Wrote This Week (7/2-7/9)

never stop remembering him - “The flight from Sheremetyevo Airport in Moscow to Fukoka has gone down,” The loudspeaker was saying, and Viktor wished the ringing would return. “We have no word yet on the passengers or crew, but it is reported that an engine went out and couldn’t be recovered, and the plane crash landed. As we get more information on the flight, it will be reported. For now – “ They began to talk about other delays, but Viktor didn’t bother to listen, his heart feeling numb. He just had to remember to breathe. (Or: Yuuri dies after Rostelecom and what can Viktor do?)

#yoi fic rec #yuri on ice #yoi fic #fic rec #thishasbeencary #my fic