#EDIT: UM I LITERALLY FINISHED THIS LIKE OVER A MONTH AGO AND I FORGOT TO POST IT

[oliviaischillin1204]

lots to learn

Pairings: Romantic Anamoceit

Word Count: 1,323 words

this is a direct sequel to this minific from a few years ago, they don't have to be read together but u might as well lol

"... I guess I've got a lot to learn."

"I think we all do!"

Virgil smiled up at him, and really, Patton couldn't help but lean down and press a kiss against his forehead.

"Do we wanna keep going, or are we tired?" he asked lightly. He really hadn't meant to tease, but it was pretty cute how both Virgil and Janus went suddenly shy at the idea of them continuing their little 'lesson'.

"Well, I for one have quite a busy morning at work tomorrow," Janus interjected, pretending he wasn't flushed and avoiding Patton's eyes. "So I'll have to pass on being the... subject, in order to get any actual rest. Unfortunately."

"Oh, sure," Patton replied. "So that means you're definitely not going to get any more tickles tonight, unless you change your mind and ask me or Virge to tickle you! That's what you want, right? No more tickles tonight?"

Janus' fingers clenched where he'd folded his arms protectively over his chest. "...Yes. It's not like I'd ever ask for more, of course."

"Oh, of course not," Patton teased, winking obviously at his husband. He gave Janus about twenty minutes tops before he caved and starting begging, which meant...

Patton smiled down at Virgil, who was still lying on his back in between himself and Janus. He returned Patton's gaze with a shy yet cocky gaze.

"Do you wanna...?" Patton offered. Virgil nodded wordlessly, biting his lip.

"Aw, yeah? You wanna go ahead and lift those arms for me, then?" he continued.

There were a few moments as Virgil took in a slow, shaky breath, before he managed to fold his arms behind his head. Janus shifted, sitting up further, but the slight movement was enough to make Virgil slam his arms back down to his sides with a panicked noise.

Neither Patton or Janus could stop the laughter that burst out of them.

"My goodness, darling, is it really that bad?" Janus teased.

"Oh, come on, Janny, you know how it is!" Patton retorted. "The anticipation makes everything feel so much more sensitive, huh, Virge?"

Virgil didn't respond; he was too busy burying his dark face in his hands as his partners teased him. "Please kill me."

"You wish," Janus replied. "Arms up, buttercup."

"Janus."

"If you have a problem with nicknames I'm afraid you're going to have to speak up soon. Patton can be quite creative."

Patton smirked, his voice a sing-song as he replied, "You would know!"

"Enough," Janus said in a voice that was not quite begging. "Eyes on Virgil, please."

Patton chuckled one more time, but did move on the bed until he was lying comfortably on his side next to Virgil, one hand propping up his head while the other rested innocently next to Virgil's side. Janus did the same; Virgil cut his eyes over to him, and he merely gave him that slow, sharp smile that Virgil loved.

"Should we make it a game?" Patton asked, fingers drumming the mattress and making Virgil tense up.

Janus hummed. "Maybe 'how long can you keep your arms up'? Or 'how long can you hold in your laughter'?"

"I'm not gonna last that long," Virgil blurted. His arms twitched, begging to drop to his sides, but he kept his hands behind his head. "I'm-- I'm really ticklish, and you're making it so horrible, but I do like it, but I feel like I'm gonna explode and you haven't even started yet--"

"Shhhhhhh," Janus whispered. "Breathe, Vergilius." His raised his hand, letting Virgil keep his eyes on his fingers as they curled in the air. "Just trust us. We'll take care of you."

Virgil was so entranced by Janus' fingers that he was completely unprepared for Patton running his nails down his side. Virgil gasped; his arms dropped just as he'd warned them, but Janus was viper-quick and managed to grab one elbow, pinning the arm closest to him back next to Virgil's head.

"Oh, hello," Janus purred, "what's this?" He fluttered his nails on Virgil's other side, the mirror image of where Patton's hand had been, and Virgil couldn't stop the keening squeal that escaped from his throat.

"Aw, is that a good spot?" Patton cooed. He copied Janus' pose by easily pulling Virgil's arm up so he could pin it (either because Patton was clearly stronger than Virgil and was able to pry his arm away from his side, or because Virgil was actually trying very hard to not protect himself from the tickles).

"Must be, if he's fighting us this much," Janus continued.

"Can't-- hehehelp it!" Virgil whined. His laughter was coming out in spurts and bursts, like he was trying to hold it back. This was torture; Patton's rough hands and rounded nails scratching between his ribs and his side was already enough to make him want to lose it, but Janus was much more delicate, which was freaking worse, because that meant he let his well-manicured nails dance ever so gently just above the most sensitive spots along Virgil's waistline, not speeding up and not going any rougher, just enough to make Virgil want to throw his head back and wail.

Of course, he couldn't do that, because he had three sleeping kids in the house and the thought of having to go through their bedtime routines yet again was exhausting. All he could do was lean forward and gasp in a breath as quietly as possible before saying, "Wait wait wait wait--"

His partners stopped immediately.

"I can't-- can't be quiet," he choked out. "The kids-- I don't wanna wake them, I'm sorry--"

"It's alright, sweetie," Patton replied, stroking Virgil's hair. He looked over Virgil's head at Janus, and the two seemed to have a silent conversation for a moment before he continued, "I have a thought."

The next thing Virgil knew, Patton was maneuvering him around, even picking him up for a brief moment and making Virgil yelp with surprise. When he was settled, Virgil found himself sitting on Patton's lap, his legs on either side of Patton's hips and their chests nearly pressed together. Heat rushed back to his face at the proximity.

"How about this?" Patton asked. "You need to laugh, you do it into my shoulder."

Virgil was about to respond when suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as Janus leaned up to whisper in his ear.

"Would that help you stay a bit quieter, darling?"

Virgil nodded so fast he almost hurt himself. "Yes."

He could feel Janus' grin again the back of his neck. "Good." That's all the warning he had before Janus' nails trailed all the way down his sides, from his armpits to just above his hips.

The noise that came out of him was nearly indecent, but Patton's hand came up and pushed Virgil's head into his shoulder just in time. This was almost worse, for Virgil-- not being able to see anything, so vulnerable and exposed pressed between his partners' chests-- but at least he didn't have to hold in his laughter anymore. He could merely relish in it as Patton's hands wrapped around his back to trace and spider through his sleep shirt all over the sensitive spots on his back, or as Janus' hands snuck around to flutter damningly all over Virgil's stomach.

"It's okay," Patton murmured into Virgil's hair, although the other man could barely hear it over his own muffled laughter. "We've got you. Just laugh it out."

"Besides," Janus continued, curling forward so his breath could once again tickle Virgil's ears, "it's your day off tomorrow. I think this is a perfect chance to explore this wonderful little secret I found, hmm?"

Virgil could blame it on the fact that he couldn't speak at the moment-- not with his mouth, wide open and wailing, pressed into the warmth that was Patton's shoulder-- but if he were honest... he couldn't agree with Janus more.

#my posts #my writing #tickling #tickle fic #sanders sides tickling #lee!virgil #ler!janus #ler!patton #lots to learn #drafted on november 15 2021 #EDIT: UM I LITERALLY FINISHED THIS LIKE OVER A MONTH AGO AND I FORGOT TO POST IT #SORRYYYYYY #anyways have this while i (once again) try to finish some of my longer wips lmao

[spencersawkward]

switchblade faith//spencer reid - chapter 6

summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid.

relationship: Fem!OC/Spencer

content warnings: discussion of mental illness (schizophrenia)

word count: 4.4k

masterlist

the thing about growing up in a place where there are so many dinosaur fossils is that you start to search for them everywhere. my friends and I, in elementary school, saw the enormous bones, those huge sockets where eyes used to sit. and even though there was nothing in them now, they seemed to glare back at us. if you stood right in front, face-to-face, it felt like looking down the barrel of a gun. a several-ton, reptilian gun. petrifying.

and it wasn't like there was much to do in Montana, anyway. sometimes the sheer expanse of that place, especially if we drove a bit out of town, was enough to put fear in me. like we'd been abandoned there.

when my mom got her migraines, I dug holes in the front yard. occasionally, I'd find something-- a funnily-shaped rock, usually-- and it would look enough like a dinosaur tooth that for a moment I'd deceive myself into thinking that I'd made a discovery. it didn't matter that actual remnants would be buried much, much further in the ground than I could turn with my small hands. but I liked the slight rush it sent through my body, seeing what other people hadn't. sitting back on my heels and brushing off the excess, the only thing I could hear was my breath. there's something quite serene about that, the focusing in on something which normally I would never think about. my heart pounding. and I collected my findings so that I would be able to put them together again when there were enough pieces.

but this doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things, particularly not when I'm short on time and staring at an upsettingly pathetic evidence board.

"the unsub said we needed a book, didn't he?" Spencer brings me to attention. there's an unfolded paper on the board that Hotch's wife dropped off an hour ago. he's talking to her in his office about who delivered it; we don't know anything else. all it has is a bunch of numbers written in neat black ink.

"yep." I bite the end of my pen and frown. "one that 'inspired many an adventure.'"

"then it's a book code," Reid says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. I arch an eyebrow and he continues. "each one of these sets of numbers represents a specific word. page 118, line 30, word 3." he points one long finger at a certain spot, and I follow it.

"so we just need to figure out what the words are and fill in the blanks," I lean forward in my chair, cradling a cup of coffee that's starting to grow cold. "except what book are we looking for?"

"I don't know," he shrugs. I lean back in my seat; if Reid doesn't know, we're all screwed. "the thing is that it has to be the exact same edition of the exact same book."

"that's encouraging." I sigh. the useless feeling puts me in a bad mood. we're wasting time by sitting and learning nothing. although there's nowhere to go.

I'm not sure how long we're there; hours, at least. night becomes less heavy, hues of a purplish pink sky slotting through the blinds and reminding me of just how exhausted I am. not enough to sleep. bone-tired.

Spencer crosses his arms, leans his chin on his fist and stares at the numbers like they'll suddenly make sense. and maybe they will; I don't know how his head works. some miracle that has eluded us for the past few hours might appear now. but the longer I stare, the more confused I get. instead, I start to sift through the pile of other evidence pieces scattered around the table. we could be missing something.

"you know, I can understand how this guy got our addresses and phone numbers, but there's no way all that information about JJ's butterfly obsession or Rossi's trips to baseball games would be in our personnel files." I frown. those things wouldn't be relevant.

Spencer isn't even listening to me, though. he's muttering to himself, eyes flickering over the floor.

"'never would it be night, but always clear day to any man's sight,'" he says it more loudly, then finally focuses on me. "it sounds familiar-- I think I've heard it somewhere before."

I also get the feeling that I've heard it before, except it keeps slipping my memory. a lot of rhyming poetry leaves my mind after I finish reading it, and I don't want to lead us in the wrong direction, either. he uncaps a dry erase marker and hurries over to the white board, writing "Possible Book Titles" in messy scrawl, staring at it. I watch him for a moment, the way he talks to himself as he works through his thoughts, certain words floating in the air.

"how many books do you think are published every year?" I ask. maybe if we can narrow that down, we can get a better perspective on how to proceed. Spencer doesn't even look up.

"thousands. easily." he sighs dejectedly. and then his head snaps up. "year... every year."

he spins and starts to push all the evidence bags aside on the table, scrambling to grab something. I don't know what to say about his fervent behavior. I'm speechless when he finds the baseball card. he shoves it in my face. "1963."

"what about it?" I take the card.

"if the book has to be the right volume and the right publication date, why is this from 1963?"

his eyes are enormous. wide pupils that urge me to catch onto his line of thought. for a moment, I have no idea what he's talking about. my eyes run over the baseball card for what feels like the millionth time, examining the date. I slam the thing down on the table and we look at each other.

"Rossi said 1959." I say. he nods.

"so the book must be from 1963, or it wouldn't fit the pattern," Reid straightens and runs his hands through his hair, his spine finally straightening as he takes a deep breath. I can practically sense the electric current that radiates from his body while he thinks. "I'm gonna go ask Garcia about something."

he's gone before I have a chance to respond.

...

the rest of the day gets really weird really fast. as all of us are focused on finding the unsub, I fall into a daze. I don't eat, don't drink anything other than tankards of coffee while my eyes start to burn from looking at the board.

we've finished talking on the phone to a librarian at some facility in Virginia, where the exact edition of the book we've been seeking is housed. it took about half an hour for us to go through each blank in the code with her. somehow, that prompted Spencer to think of his mom, so he called her and requested she be flown out here from Las Vegas immediately. the whole time he's on the phone, he rocks back and forth on his heels and keeps glancing at me.

I pretend to be focused on the pile of evidence, not wanting to intrude. he already told me about his mom, and I'm assuming this has something to do with her being a professor of medieval literature. it's not really my place to question it.

when he hangs up, he doesn't say anything to me. there's quite literally nothing else for us to do. I clear my throat, lick my lips, and sit a bit straighter. he's still standing with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"um," I wrack my mind for anything that would take our minds off the waiting. "do you wanna play cards?"

Spencer tries to smile. it looks more like a wince as he nods. with Prentiss and Morgan talking to the guy who delivered the code papers and Hotch and Rossi on their way to interview the parents of the missing girl (whose name is Rebecca Bryant, apparently), we're kind of aimless.

I head to the bullpen to grab my favorite deck, then return and close the door behind me. there are plenty of other employees out there bustling around, and the noise probably won't help his anxiety. he's sitting in the chair next to where I was, leaning his elbow against the table while he presses his knuckles to his temple. he looks incredibly pensive.

"here." I plop down next to him.

"thanks."

"mhmm." instead of starting a conversation, I just shuffle the deck. the only sounds are the flutter of paper against paper and the slap of the cards on the table's surface. his eyes follow the movements of my hands, the way I bend and mix them up, before eventually dealing them out.

it should be awkward, but it's not. the weight of his thoughts fills enough of the space for the both of us; I can practically hear him running through scenarios in his mind, ever.

we start to play for a couple minutes in silence, and I'm in shock when he's the one who initiates a game of war. all I do is smile to myself as the pile in the middle of the table begins. we get caught up in it; both of us are tense, and he finally slaps his hand down on the pile before I do. my hand is covering his, evidence of my defeat.

"hey!" he cheers, looking up at me with a surprised grin and dragging the pile towards him. I narrow my eyes.

"I was distracted." I roll my eyes.

"yeah?" he starts to laugh as he sets forth another card. "by what? how I'm crushing you?"

"you get one hand and suddenly you're the master, now, huh?" I can't help but giggle. he nods and smiles like, yeah, pretty much. I scoff and we continue to play. halfway through the next round, he speaks up.

"I forgot she always used to read me that poem."

"what poem?" I frown.

"The Parliament of Fowls-- it's how we figured out the book title."

the name slides into place for me at last. I must have read it in college or something, because it didn't leave that big of an imprint on my memory.

"Chaucer?" I raise an eyebrow. his head startles up from staring at the table.

"yeah." he smiles a little. 

"I'm not entirely stupid." I wink before setting down another card. he makes a noncommittal noise.

he seems to get uncomfortable, shifting, then gives up on his previous train of thought. "it's kind of funny, isn't it?"

I just give him an inquisitive look.

"I should have realized sooner. nobody knows things like the fact that JJ collected butterflies except for me." he isn't looking at me, but I notice that he does seem more relaxed than before. his shoulders aren't so hunched over, and there's even a hint of a thoughtful smile on his face.

"that's sweet." I reply softly.

"people tell me their secrets all the time," he stops putting out cards. I stop, too, although he doesn't even notice that we're no longer playing the game. his back is reclined in the chair. "I think it's because they know I don't have anyone to betray them to."

my heart sinks in my chest at the implication. his tone is a bit melancholy, but there's something else in it, too, that I can't quite place. like a resigned loneliness. I want to say something, though I'm not sure what. and I don't think it would make a difference anyway. he continues on before I have to, thankfully.

"except my mom. I tell her... pretty much everything." he looks up at me when he says the last part, smiling. his eyes sparkle, and something about the low tone of voice and the way he gives up all of this at once makes me think that Spencer hasn't spent much time telling his own secrets. only hearing others', storing them away.

"I don't think anyone would mind." I reply.

"you know, I write her a letter every day." his laugh is really lovely. my heart stutters.

"I think that's nice."

"well, it depends on why I write her."

"what do you mean?" this time I frown, my fingertips fidgeting with each other under the table. I hate that I'm nervous right now, worried that I'll somehow ruin the moment.

"I write her letters... so that I don't feel so guilty about not visiting her." each syllable like its own individual battle for him.

the admission is like a cement block between us, something ridiculously heavy that he has compressed and repressed until it's too solid to hide anymore. and he's avoiding contact when he says it, and the moments after. his fingertips mess around with a stray paper clip, twisting the thing into oblivion.

"did you know that schizophrenia is genetically passed?" he asks, then peeks up to gauge my reaction. schizophrenia.

"how long has she been diagnosed?" my own eyes are barely able to hold his. everything in my body wants to reach out and hug him, even though that would only ruin this. Spencer isn't a fan of physical touch.

"since before I was born," he shrugs, poking his palm with the end of the paper clip. "she was on meds but didn't get placed in Bennington until I was eighteen." this also seems to be bitter in his mouth. "you get used to it. it's just... I won't know for a while."

I nod. it likely won't manifest for a couple years with him, but that only puts a ticking clock over his head. and, judging by the way his body is sinking into the swivel chair, he senses it constantly. I wish I could tell him that he doesn't have it, that he won't have it, except I can't. there's no way for anyone to find out right now.

"I'm sorry, Spence." it's a weak thing to say-- stupid, really. I've never had a way with words. instead, I pour every ounce of my emotion into it. I don't want him to feel alone. I guess I'm sorry for that, too, along with everything else. nobody deserves to deal with that by themselves.

"it's okay," he smiles. "it is what it is, right?"

"I mean, I think it's a little more complicated than that. but yeah." wow, really fucking eloquent. he chuckles at this, though, brushing his fingers over the top of his deck of cards. he flips the top one over and we return to playing, leaving the conversation to lie open between us.        

...

my body feels like it's been dragged through a corn field by the time we get back to the office. I think I'm still a little in shock, honestly. this whole day has been jam-packed with things, easily the most intense case I've had yet. my morning was occupied by a code-cracking book search, then a series of out-of-place card games with Reid, then his mother arrived and I left them to talk so as not to overwhelm her.

we rescued Rebecca Bryant-- Spencer did, I mean. it was chivalric, how he went into the house and tried to talk down her kidnapper (who happened to be her father). the guy blew himself up, and Morgan tells me that they barely got out of the way in time. I was on the main level with Hotch, trying to find Rebecca. again, Reid came to the rescue with that eidetic memory, recalling the puzzle pieces and a photograph that included an illuminated basement light. the key he received in the mail slipped into her shackles with ease, unlocking her before we carried her out onto the lawn and watched the house burn into an ash-covered shell of itself. I remember the way the smoke billowed into the air, how sparks fluttered out of the windows and dissipated into nothingness.

I stood there like a rock, Reid stumbling up next to me. his face was covered in a sheen of sweat, and his hair was curlier than usual. the heat must have ruined whatever he usually used to smooth it down.

"hey." I'd said, putting my hand on his shoulder as if to offer some kind of stability. he glanced at me with something like unease, then tried to straighten up.

"hi."

"I heard you were a hero in there."

"did Morgan say that?"

"yeah, why?" I laughed. Reid chuckled, shook his head slowly.

"he's teasing me."

"for what?" I frowned.

"pure irony. you know how he always calls me 'pretty boy' and stuff?"

"I sure do." my fist came up to softly slug him in the shoulder. Spencer stumbled a bit and my eyes went wide as I tried to right him before he fell. he made a face as he regained his footing and then I giggled. "you okay, there?"

"I'm fine." he tried to be annoyed, but he was hiding a smile.

"is Rebecca gonna be okay?" I nodded to the ambulance, where he had just spent the past couple minutes talking to the paramedics and checking her condition.

"she'll be okay-- physically, I mean."

"seriously," I watched them close the doors to the vehicle, closing her up inside before they sped off to the hospital. "two years in there."

he nodded and we started to walk to our cars to meet up with the team and head to the office. we both knew his mother was still at Quantico, probably anxiously awaiting his return after she helped him crack the case. but he didn't seem to want to talk about it, so I asked something else that was on my mind.

"do you ever go back and look at old cases?"

"old cases?" he stared at the ground beneath his feet, kicking up the gravel as a way to distract himself. I cleared my throat.

"like, ones that you guys have solved. have you ever gone back and checked to see how the victims are doing now?"

"I haven't worked here long enough for that, really." he had shrugged. I remember how the air felt in my lungs, a little bit poisoned by smoke. still breathable as I inhaled it deeply.

"really makes you think."

"what do you mean?"

"'saving' people has to be more than just sweeping them out of harm's way at the last second, right?" I put air-quotes around the word.

he thinks this over, nodding.

"sorry, I know you're tired." one look at him and I realized that the question I'd posed was one for another time. he walked like there was some unconscionable weight on his shoulders, like he didn't think he deserved his moment of glory for saving that girl's life-- and ours, probably, too.

he looks the same now, pushing the glass doors of the BAU open and immediately focusing in on the windows of the conference room, where the blinds have been lowered to make Diana feel safer. I watch as he runs up the stairs, returning to her as soon as possible.

I wonder what it is to love someone that much, that fear for their well-being that puts you on edge.

Emily places a hand on my shoulder.

"you okay?" she asks, draws my attention away from the closed door of the round table room. I smile and nod cheerfully.

"yep. just ready to go to bed."

"no kidding," she scoffs, slamming her go-bag on her desk. "I feel like I've been up for days."

"so it wasn't just me?" I laugh as I set my things in my own space. she shakes her head slowly and Morgan walks over, his own gait seemingly heavy with exhaustion.

"plans for tonight, ladies?" he jokes.

"with my couch and takeout." Emily replies. once my bag is all packed up, she and Morgan and I wander out of the office. Rossi stops us at the last minute, joining before we head into the hallway to take the elevator downstairs.

I peek once to see Hotch sitting in his office, settled in with the light on like he's been there all day. my brain almost short-circuits at the thought of doing more work in any capacity right now.

"does he ever sleep?" I ask quietly as though he can hear me from all the way over here. Rossi glances at the unit chief through the window, shaking his head slowly and letting out the kind of knowing chuckle that only older people have.

"nope."

"wait," Morgan sees our small grouping, almost does a head count as JJ emerges from her office and sidles up silently next to me while we wait for the steel doors to open. "where's the kid?"

"Spence is flying his mom back to Vegas." JJ replies right away. when I saw him disappear into that room, I knew they wouldn't leave for a while; moving her around so much can't be good for her mental state. but I guess they're eager to get her to the sanitarium, which also makes sense.

"oh, okay." Morgan shrugs. I chance a look in that direction. the blinds are still drawn. Medieval literature. huh. part of me begins to think about all the things she must know, must have passed down to Reid.

...

"I'm gonna say... three." my voice is uncertain at first, but then the flavor coats my tongue and I smack my lips. "yeah."

Spencer's nonresponse is damning. I hear the puff of air he exhales in frustration as I lift the sleeping mask up from my eyes. I got it from my go-bag; we've decided to repurpose it for the morning in the office. technically, we could just close our eyes and keep it simple, but I thought it would be sort of funny because there are two huge cartoon eyes printed on the front.

"I'm right, aren't I?" I smirk, eyes landing on his crossed arms and taut expression. he shrugs.

"I think you're cheating."

"how am I cheating?" I laugh.

"I don't know, but you are." he shakes his head as I wrap my fingers around the handle and take a sip of the coffee. we're taste-testing to see who's better at finding the sugar content. it's become a pattern of ours: I make him a cup and he makes me one and then we drop in the sugar packets while the other keeps their eyes covered. it's actually pretty fun, especially because I'm good at it.

"your turn, then." I take off the sleeping mask and hand it over to him. he slips the thing over his eyes and waits patiently for me to put the sugar packets in. I chew on my bottom lip as I decide what number to do.

as I do this, JJ stands behind my shoulder.

"nap time, Spence?" she asks him with a chuckle. I explain before he has the opportunity to slander me with more cheating accusations.

"we're trying to see how good we are at detecting the number of sugars." I pick up six packets, knowing it'll definitely overload his senses. this'll teach him to call me a liar. JJ's eyes widen.

"cover your ears, Reid, I don't want you to hear me tearing them open." I order. he obliges, and I can sense the frown on his face while I dump in the sweetener.

"okay." I mix it with the stirrer before placing it in front of him.

"this thing smells like lavender." he observes randomly in reference to my sleeping mask.

"it's got scented stuff inside the fabric." I say.

"interesting. did you know that lavender is actually proven to be much more effective than--"

"Spence, just drink the coffee. I have to go talk to Hotch about something and I wanna see how this ends." JJ cuts him off light-heartedly. I purse my lips because I was sort of interested in what he was going to say, but he takes the not-so-subtle hint and lifts the mug.

I expect him to be repulsed by the sweetness, or at least to show some kind of discomfort. however, he takes a long draw before setting it on the table. his hand clutches onto the mug, still, as he pulls the mask off.

"five. this is my usual concoction." he clenches his jaw in complete seriousness. I have to fight an enormous grin, though it just turns into me twisting my mouth to the side of my face and JJ raising her eyebrows in surprise.

"what? am I wrong?" he gets nervous, voice going up an octave as he glances between the two of us. JJ averts her eyes, smiling.

"you lose!" I cackle, throwing my hand up for JJ to high-five. Spencer looks at me like I've stolen his life's savings.

"no! there's no way--"

"I forgot how many you usually put in there and I still won." I feign an awed expression.

"it's okay, Spence. you can always practice." JJ pats his shoulder sympathetically and then leaves us, running up the stairs to Hotch's office. I'm still smirking triumphantly as he glares at me.

"don't hate the player," I sigh, throwing my hands up. "hate the game."

"well, the player also happened to invent the game, so I think I'm entitled." he counters. I snort at his quickness.

"can I try this?" I point to the mug. "I've never had one with six."

he pushes the drink in my direction with his fingertips, almost having given up on trying to fight the loss. "there were six? that's only one off."

"yeah, but you need to get it right to win, dummy." I take a sip of the coffee. it's so sweet, though, that I shake my head and set it back down. "what in God's name is that?"

"you made it!" I sort of like the way his voice gets higher-pitched when he's vehement about something. it's cute.

"I wish I hadn't." I shove it over to him, half-expect that he'll not touch it now that I've taken a drink from it. but he continues to take ingest the caffeine, undeterred. I quirk an eyebrow silently, watching him.

"what?" he asks.

"nothing," I stand up. "come on, we should get some work done. I don't want Hotch to come down here and yell at us."

#baby spence #baby spencer reid #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #fanfic #slow burn #friends to lovers

[carbootsoul]

i was tagged by @katarahairloopies!!! thank u :mwah:

name: leo! @/zeitgeistofnow on ao3, @lazypigeon & @timetohope on here, altho i’m considering uh switching back to not having an art blog :/ i have to think abt it.

fandom(s): ace attorney is my main one rn bc i’m replaying the games with a friend of mine and it’s reminding me how invested i am in the characters!! a lot of my recent fic is atla stuff, altho i’ve been distancing myself from the fandom bc i’ve kinda exhausted my interest in it. finally i’ve been reading a lot of mp100 fic but i don’t think i’ll ever write for it. i just love how dumb all the characters r (with the dubious exception of ritsu)

where you post: ao3!! tbh i always get suprised when people say they write/read fic on any other platform like i haven’t messed around w wattpad or ff.net since middle school... catch up........

most popular oneshot: going just by “one chapter” as the definition of a oneshot, the firestarters, bc it’s fluffy and modern au :) i wouldn’t necessarily call it a oneshot tho bc to me a oneshot shows like, one scene? so like by my definition and your sweet sweet sun makes me crazy (i wanna lay you down and see how you amaze me is my most popular!! (also @ kit u thought UR fic titles were unnecessarily long??? i’ve hit the ao3 LIMIT for characters in titles. it’s about the aesthetic

most popular multichapter fic: sdkjflakjlkj it’s two crowned kings; and one that stood alone, which is a w359 fic i wrote back in late 2017. it’s literally the last fic i haven’t orphaned from when i actually wrote podcast fic (i have 4 other podcast fics but they were all borne out of nostalgia and written after i stopped participating in the fandom). i rewrote all but the last chapter? the last two? about a year ago and i fucked up halfway through so like chapter 6 and 7 are repeated and there’s something missing but i’m too lazy to fix it. no one’s going to read it now anyway :) it WAS the top minlace fic for a little while tho which i take great pride in.

favorite story you’ve written so far: oh that’s a hard question akfsldkfj i honestly like most of them!! and i write a LOT so there’s a lot to choose from. tonight, we are young is def one of my favorites- it was fun to write and i got to explore the ways zuko and yue r similar, which i LOVE to do outside of a zukka/yukka view. you can lean on my arm as you break my heart  is one that i’m really proud of? the whole “cooking as an expression of bato’s love” is definitely some of my favorites. a lot of my ace attorney fics would be categoried as my favorites if i hadn’t improved, too, if that makes sense. like they’re no long my favorites because i can see where my writing is shitty and it bothers me, but if i had written them a month ago they’d be my favorite.

fic you were nervous to post: figures 1-5: killing gods def!! it’s a lot more purple-prose-y than most of my fics and it was also written before i’d kinda like emersed myself in the atla fandom so i didn’t have as good a grasp on the general understanding of zuko’s character as i do now. tbh it’s one i’m rly happy w tho!! i have a few people leave really nice comments on it and rereading them makes me really happy. also it was the start of me hating the position of fire lord and being at least passively anti-it in my fics.

how you choose your titles: they’re almost all song lyrics!! only 14 of my 50 words AREN’T song lyrics and about half of those are from before i started writing ace attorney fic lol. sometimes i go into a fic with a song in mind for the vibes and then i usually go with lyrics from that (like in ‘cuz we’re the greatest /they’ll hang us in the louvre), but otherwise i usually pick an artist i’ve been listening to and go through their songs until i find a lyric that fits. sometimes the lyric doesn’t even really fit the fic and i just chose it at random or because i searching up the word “fly” in my spotify library or whatever. honestly i like coming up with titles? i know a lot of fic writers hate it but being able to just use song lyrics is v soothing for me and while i know that most people won’t search out a song just bc it’s a fic title like.. seeing that the title of a fic is a hozier lyric does affect how i read it and i kinda like that.

do you outline? i outline my long form/multichaptered fics with varying strictness. usually anything over ~8k will have some kind of outline. sometimes i go into it with every single scene planned out, sometimes it’s just notes on the side of the google doc that say “it's about MORE family. about how it's not betraying your existing family to find more” and “scenes i want to include: [...]” and “vampires... ngl kinda hot.” i’m trying to outline super strictly less bc i’ve found it’s less fun? but i do try to keep a plot arc in mind. since most of my fics are more character-driven than plot-driven, that usually just means keeping track of what character development i want to happen or what is motiviating the characters. 

complete: um everything posted on ao3 i guess. also the MULTITUDE of orphaned fics out there asksfjldkj i always click ‘leave my pseud on’ so if u look up my username you see all of my fics and then a. lot of other ones.

in progress: - a fic titled ‘dad phoenix’ that is actually just a no DL-6 au with defense attorney miles edgeworth and single dad bartender phoenix where neither of them want to date for A While but phoenix gets wrapped up in one of miles’s cases. it’s about family. it’s about writing teenagers. it’s about the background franmaya which is ALWAYS what i’m here for in wrightworth fics - a franmaya werewolf/vampire au because i’m ~gay~ and love rivals to lovers and also franziska and maya both being angry their older brothers r dating each other. - my secret santa fic!! which i can’t talk about much but it does feature toph and zuko and also piandao and jeong jeong???? idk where they came from but they are Part Of The Fic Now also i forgot iroh existed for half the fic and wrote piandao as zuko’s father figure and now i’m in too deep. - a 5+1 bakoda fic (maybe a bato/hakoda/kay fic??? i need to decide. that’s part of why this fic is still incomplete bc i can’t decide which relationship dynamic i prefer) that’s 5 times bato said he loves hakoda and one time hakoda said it back. possibly i have already written him saying i love u back and i need to change the title a little. - retail au klapollo where klavier works at an overpriced boutique and apollo comes in to buy earrings for nahyuta’s birthday. klavier gives him a punch card (one that the store doesn’t actually offer anymore as a bid to get apollo to come back) and all of apollo’s family come in to use the punch card and also give klavier variations on the shovel talk/find out if he’s actually into apollo. - a LOT of atla fics that i don’t think i’ll ever finish :(

coming soon/not yet started:  - i want to write some blackmadhi bc they’re.. cute..... and it’s a good excuse to also write athena and i love her - my stuff for yueki week!!! i have NOT prepped enough but hopefully i’ll remember in time! i wrote the prompts in a way that kinda set up stuff i’ve already wanted to write (don’t look at me lol) so hopefully i’ll get at least two or three fics finished in time. - i want to rewrite the wrightworth fic i have about them not getting married bc it was interesting and i like what i wrote about but i think i could have written it better and made it more interesting. rewriting fics is hard tho bc i’m never sure if it makes sense to just edit in the new work or to repost it? and then if u repost it do u delete the old one? conflicting so i might just not

do you accept prompts? totally!!! a disclaimer tho i’m not super into writing atla stuff anymore (most of the atla stuff i’m still writing is  something i made a commitment to finish) so if your prompt is an atla one i probably won’t do it :/ basically anything else is fair game tho!! podcasts/aa/sa/uh i don’t remember anything else but like if you search a fandom on my blog and come up with more than two posts about it chances r i’d be happy to write fic for it!

upcoming work that you’re most excited about: oh huh i mean probably the no dl-6 au!!! it’s the longest ace attorney fic i’ve written already and since it’s wrightworth it’ll get more attention than any franmaya fic i write. my standards r so high now tho after getting to much feedback from atla fans... love u all... obviously i have no choice but to pressure my atla mutuals into playing ace attorney. pls ask abt it bc i WIll Give You A Sales Pitch about why you’d like it in relation to atla

tagging: i’m not rly tagging anyone!!! @deadflora if you still consider urself a fic writer also consider urself tagged! also any of my other mutuals who write fic i just can’t think of anyone rn

#leo.txt #thank u!! i think i wrote a lot for this lol #but literally ive been so bored i don't have anything better to do

[niallsfoolsgold]

Thin Walls and Fireworks

it’s been months since i last posted any work and i’m really sorry for that, i just haven’t been feeling my writing. this story is probably filled with typos because i haven’t edited it yet, and i have really mixed feeling about the whole thing (mainly the ending). thanks for reading at your own risk!

(not my gif!)

There are three things you should know about Emery before you really start reading this: 1. She wakes up at exactly 7:13 am every morning (she has literally timed how long it takes her to get ready and get to uni so that she can get a maximum amount of sleep every night while still having five extra minutes in case a traffic jam happens). 2. She listens to her spotify playlist specifically made for her morning showers everyday and she sings along because it helps her wake herself up faster. 3. The walls in her apartment are extremely thin. She quickly found the third thing out when she consistently heard music—different guitars and pianos mainly—blasting throughout her home at 1 a.m. within the first month she lived there. She tossed and turned on the frigid December night, and prayed to whatever god there was that the music would quiet down. Yeah... her prayers went unanswered.

She was annoyed to say the least. Her boss had called about an hour ago and said that she would have to work the next day after she had asked for one day off after working every day for the past three weeks. So she had pulled her thick grey comforter over her shoulders to hide the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra, pushed her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose, and took a quick glance in the mirror to make sure that she didn’t look too hideous. After that, she trudged her way out her door and down the carpeted hall, hoping that whoever lived next door wasn’t a complete asshole—her old neighbors in her previous apartment were which was one of the contending reasons for her moving elsewhere. She raised her hand to knock on the door, and mentally stopped herself, taking a deep breath and wondering what the fuck she was going to say. She hadn’t mentally prepared enough to meet someone new, especially not if they were rude, but she knocked on the door anyways; softly, but hard enough that it would be heard even through the music. When the door opened up, it was not what she expected, not at fucking all. Standing there was a tall, decently-muscular-well-built, gorgeous, greek god of a looking guy. He looked like the type of person she would allow to stab her twenty times if he asked nicely; hell, she would let him stab her even if he was rude. And if she wasn’t already ashamed of how messy she looked before she had seen this guy—it didn’t help that she remembered her landlord mentioning that he was famous—she really was now. “Can I help you with something?” She’s pretty sure he has the most angelic speaking voice she’s ever heard. He literally seems like he could possibly be a walking angel, coming second in the “perfection” genre only to Jesus Christ himself (she only thinks that because she’s almost certain that Jesus must’ve been decently perfect... being the son of God and all). She feels like she’s almost lost her voice, like she’s all choked up and unable to breathe just at the sight of this guy. Her eyebrows are raised only in the slightest before her lips begin moving and words are created. “Um—yes actually,” she speaks softly, “I really don’t mean to be rude or come off as pushy in any rude way, b—“ She’s cut off before she can even finish, but she doesn’t even care because she’s cut off by a breath of laughter from him before he looks back up at her. “It’s the loud music mixed with the thin walls, yeah? I’m really sorry about that. I’ve been gone since you moved in I guess so I’m not used to having a neighbor,” he spoke. She nods her head lightly at him. “That’s exactly it, actually. I’m sorry for asking,” she begins, “it’s just that I’ve got a early shift in the morning and rest is needed, ya know?” “It’s fine, don’t worry,” he offers another polite smile, and fuck, she nearly melts like a popsicle on the Fourth of July. She mutters “goodnight” to him and he does the same back as she’s turning to speed walk back to her apartment down the hall. Her heart feels like it’s about to beat out of her chest. *** Emery had a long day so far. That’s really all she wanted to say about it; it had just been a really fucking long day. It started out by thinking she overslept, and therefore freaking out about being late for work, only to find out that her boss had forgotten to tell her that her shift had changed to a night shift and she didn’t have to be in until five this evening. That threw her incredibly off track for the days activities. She went from there to get some last minute things from the store that she forgot when she had done her grocery shopping, but she realized in the checkout isle that she had left her wallet at her place and all she had was about $7 in her pocket. She decided to use that money to buy some coffee to wake her up, but then some asshole bumped into her in the shop and spilled her coffee all over her white shirt, and then proceeded to yell at her like it was her fault. And fuck, by the end of all this happening, it was only ten in the morning. So yes, she was absolutely batshit pissed at how fucking terribly her day had been going. She had finally managed to make it back to her apartment and wanted nothing more than a hot shower to relax her, and then maybe take a nap before going to work later on. She slings her jacket onto the dining table and kicked her shoes off by the front door. She really didn’t even bother to get clothing to change into in the bathroom (living alone really had its perks; she could walk around naked if she pleased, just not on the balcony, and not with the curtains opened). Stripping herself from her clothes and making sure the water was the right temperature beforehand, she hopped into the shower with her bad day playlist that’s titled “for your stressed-out-bitchy days”. She hummed along softly, singing the words softly as she got farther into the song. She was really confused when she started hearing singing from the other side of the wall; singing the exact words at the same time she was. Shawn—her devilishly handsome neighbor—was someone that she had only talked to a few times since she had asked him to turn his music down a couple of weeks earlier. He was nice, literally almost always. She had never seen him in a bad mood, and he often talked to her if they happened to get into the elevator at the same time, or if they passed each other in the hallway. He asked simple questions about her, like how old she was, how long she had lived here, stuff like that. In some cases it could have been weird, but he seemed nice enough and simply a friendly person. There was no doubt in her mind that her greek god of a neighbor could actually hear her, but it made her giggle just a bit when he had even joined to sing along (although it wasn’t that surprising since she had recently learned from her landlord that the reason he was famous was for singing). It was dumb that something as stupid as her next door neighbor singing along to her music—who we can’t forget is absolutely gorgeous—made her day seem a little bit better than it was before. She dries the wet drips of water off of her body with the white, fluffy, hotel-like towels that she loves more than her own life. Everything was quiet when the music was off. No more singing through the thin walls with Shawn, just quiet. In all honesty, she was kind of happy for the quiet, even though his voice was still kind of angelic. It had been such a long ass day, she was just ready to lie down before going to work. So after drying her body off and changing into her most comfortable items of clothing—her favorite pair of leggings and a sweatshirt that was much too large for her—she crawled into her bed, turned on her most relaxing music, and drifted off to sleep. *** Words are unable to describe how much she dreaded to go to work later on that evening after she woke up. It was still a bit rushed getting ready for work, but thank fuck that the owner of the bar was chill and her work attire consisted of jeans and a black shirt (of any kind, just no graphics), and having her hair up. After changing and slipping on her favorite coat, she put her hair up, put on one of the best faces of makeup she probably ever had in a short amount of time—honestly though, her eyeliner is on fucking point—and left with her keys and purse in hand. The backdoor to the bar squeaked a little bit when Y/N opened it up, setting her things in her designated shelf that the manager had bought so that the employees things wouldn’t be unorganized and disheveled everywhere. Her name tag was on the same shelf and she pinned it onto her shirt after taking her coat off. “Hey darlin’,” one of the workers, Tess, spoke to her, Tess’ sweet southern accent dripping from her lips. Tess was a twenty-something year old girl that had moved from Georgia in order to try be closer with her dad (her parents had divorced when she was young, and she had always described her mother as “a backstabbing, no good, pussy-ass-bitch, who deserves to choke on her boy toy’s dick”... she really has a way with words, okay?-). Tess had been there for Y/N since they had started working together, the both of them becoming close friends quickly due to not knowing another soul within a hundred miles. They weren’t necessarily sisters, more like each other’s favorite cousins at family reunions; they gossiped about other people, shared problems, and talked about the cutest guys and girls (because honestly fuck people who say you can’t love who you want to) that came in and spilled all the tea about each interaction with said guys. (Tess actually has a girlfriend named Margot, but honestly the two in the relationship knew that Tess was a natural flirt and couldn’t stop herself even if she tried, despite the both of them being very in love with one another.) “Hey love,” she responded, giving a small grin to the girl that she adored. Tess gave a small wink in return, making Emery’s grin grow wider. The bar wasn’t very busy right now, but that was mainly because it was only five o’clock and most people were just now getting off work while Emery was just getting started. It was weird to have a working schedule like that, and it sucked ass when it came to studying during the school year. But once again, her manager, Mark, was pretty chill—besides the times when it was obvious that the place was going to be busy, just like on Friday nights like this one—and allowed her to get off in time or come in late, just so that she could get some of her school work done. The first two hours of her seven hour shift were brought as hell. People shuffled in and out, maybe buying a drink or two, and then leaving immediately after paying. It annoyed her that people did that sometimes. If people were only going to buy one drink, then why not just buy a bottle of whatever they wanted from the store? Then they would be able to have one drink every night for a long time. She was certainly surprised when Shawn walked in the bar, a couple of guys following him in and she assumed they were probably his friends. They were all laughing about something that must have been said outside and cracking more jokes to go along with it. She did her best to ignore all of it—more specifically just all of them in general because she refused to get internally flustered with Shawn like she had when they first met—and went back to combining some of the partly used alcohol bottles with others. It was boring but it would also maybe get her out of socializing with someone that made her really fucking nervous for no reason. She almost did it too, almost got away with pretending to be distracted until— “Hey, neighbor.” She looked up from the two bottle in hand and nearly choked on thin air. There he was, Shawn, looking fine as hell and all he was doing was standing there. “I didn’t know you worked here,” he commented again. She placed she bottles on the bar and leaned against it, fake confidence taking over he features. “If you come here often then I’m not sure how. But then again, I’ve worked here for seven months this and this is the first time I can remember seeing you around,” she replies. Her cold hands were so close to shaking but she did her best to still them. “Hmm,” he hummed, “Well this is the first time I’ve been home for more than a couple days in about seven months, and I didn’t know about this place up until one of my friends,” he paused, turning around and pointing to one of the guys in the group that walked in with him, “told us all about it last month.” She raised her eyes at his comment, slowly nodding her head once, letting him know that he must’ve been correct. He doesn’t say anything else, just looks at her for a minute and now she’s really fucking nervous with her fake confidence fading away into a imaginary black hole. “Oka—Uh, well do you guys want anything to drink, or are you just really wanting some conversation?” she’s freaking the hell out inside. She wonders how she got those eighteen words out of her mouth. He nods, looking back at his group and does a quick count of how many people were in it before turning back. “Just 6 beers is all.” When she takes the tray of beers to the table he and his friends are sitting at, she can her them laughing again, and the doubt makes her wonder if they’re laughing at her or at something else, but she hopes it’s the latter. She gives a quick smile as she places the dark glass bottles in the table before turning around and going back to behind the bar. *** The night didn’t seem to last long enough. Contrary to what she had assumed, the shift she worked tonight wasn’t that bad. It was filled, but not overcrowded—despite it being New Year’s eve, but then again, most people were at clubs instead of actual bars—which made her job eighty-five percent easier than usual. Plus, most of the people didn’t care how long they waited; they were just waiting for the year of suffering to be over with. Shawn and his friends ended up moving to the actual bar counter and made conversation with her while she made drinks. They had all been curious to know what it was like living next to Shawn, to which she responded with “fine, besides him blasting music late at night when I have to work the next morning.” He had playfully rolled his eyes at that, to which she winked at him when no one else was paying attention (and fuck when that happened she was so confused because where the hell did that little bit of confidence come from?). That’s what the entire night consisted of; laughter, questions, and subtle flirting between Shawn and Emery. A pang if disappointment came inside her when they announced they were leaving after only about an hour and half of staying, but it felt a little better when they had promised to come back, and even better when Shawn winked at her on his way out the front door. She did her best to clean up as fast as fucking possible in order to get back to her apartment, promising Tess that she would do everything in her power to stay awake long enough tonight to call her and tell her why and how she knew the “super hot famous dude that looks like he could be a fuck boy but is most hopefully not” (a.k.a. Shawn). She knew she drove fast on the way back; and it wasn’t to see Shawn even though she almost hoped that he would blast his music loudly again so that she could go over and just see his face again, but he didn’t. He was pretty quiet, actually, and she almost thought there was a possibility that he wasn’t even home until she heard faint humming from the other side of the wall. She smiled, rolling her eyes at the fact that he seemed to love music so much that he couldn’t go without listening to some for of it (even if it was himself) for more than an hour. But the humming didn’t seem to stop, and then music was turned on, and then the music was turned up just enough to keep her awake. Her feet patted across the tiled floor and into her her slides, the top half of her body engulfed in a hoodie that was much too large for her, her hair falling loosely and messily, and her face clean and free of makeup. She knocked on his own door, and it swung open almost instantly. He was still dressed in the same clothing from earlier, looked almost the exact same, but his eyes were a little bit more soft and sleepy (basically just fucking adorable, but what’s new?). All he had to do to know what she needed was look at the slightly raised eyebrow; it was the same look she wore just a couple of nights ago. Emery opens her mouth but Shawn beats her to it, “Turn the music down?” There’s a small smirk on his face. She slowly blinks with a nod. “You got it,” he says. She turns around to walk back to her place with her hands in the pockets of her black Adidas sweatpants when he catches her attention again with his voice. “Hey, um,” he pauses and she turns to face him again, “fuck, this may sound really weird and kinda creepy ‘cause we’ve only talked like, I don’t know maybe five time, but do you wanna come in?” She raises her eyebrows at him with the tiniest grin at how nervous he seems to be with his rambling. If this is how she is, then she really understands why he seems to be smiling at her so much, but she doubts she’s actually this cute while doing it. “It’s just that it’s New Year’s Eve, and I have no idea if you’re alone, maybe you’ve already got people or a person at your place, but I know that it sucks to be alone because you see everyone together and shit... but if you are alone, you’re welcome to come over. Only if you want to, obviously,” he rambling again and she doesn’t even bother to hide the little grin that’s growing on her face. “Yeah,” he looks at her with his eyebrows raised just a little bit. “I’d love to come over. Let me grab my phone and I’ll be right back?” He nods and she practically speed walks back to her place, grabbing her phone from her room and going back out the door, but not before looking in her little mirror to make sure she looked at least somewhat decent. Fuck, she was freaking out. *** Emery decided that Shawn is possible her favorite person now (and for sure her favorite celebrity, even though she knows he’s so much more than that). It was a little half past eleven, and both Emery and Shawn were half drunk/a little tipsy on an unknown type of champagne that Emery insisted was amazing—and obviously Shawn trusts her word on alcohol because she’s a fucking bartender. It’d be weird if she didn’t know—and Shawn just happened to have a bottle of it. They were giggling at the stupidest things, sitting next to but facing each other on Shawn’s sectional, and waiting for the ball drop in New York. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me that your brother was choking on a lego, and you didn’t do anything about it?” “I was five, Shawn! I didn’t know what to fucking do!” Emery exclaims back. “Plus, he was fifteen years old, he knew better than that anyways.” He shakes his head at her jokingly and she looks up at him. “What about you?” she takes a sip of the sparkling drink from her glass. “Do you have any siblings?” She can see his eyes light up slightly when she asks him this. “Yeah, a little sister. Her name’s Aaliyah, she’s five years younger than me, and she’s fifty times more awesome than myself,” he chuckles. Emery smiles at how much he seems to care about her, even if he’s hardly talked about her. She’s about to open her mouth to say something when cheering from the tv that was mounted up on the wall erupted, taking the attention of both of them. It was the countdown. She started mouthing the numbers along with all the people in New York, shifting in her seat to get a better look while Shawn does the same, the ball slowly dropping until— “3... 2... 1...” and suddenly everyone went crazy. A smile take over her face and she looks over to Shawn, and it almost seems like he might have been looking at her already, but it’s hard to tell because it’s dark and she’s still a little drunk. She does know one thing though, he’s smiling back at her, and he’s a little drunk too. “Happy New Year,” she smiles, her voice is quiet and soft and sweet. And once again, even though she a little intoxicated off of champagne of all things, she thinks she might melt when he smiles drunkenly right back at her. “Happy New Year.” She wants to kiss him just a little bit. She’s not really sure if that’s because she drunk, because he pretty, or maybe because she’s had a little crush on him for a while, even though she doesn’t know everything about like some girls do. But she knows that she wants to know him like that. She wants to know his favorite color, and how much cream and sugar he puts in his coffee (or if he does at all). She want to know why he plays music so fucking loud, and if he likes sunrises or sunsets more. Fuck she just want to know it all, because this crush she’s got is so fucking big, and she want to have it even after she knows these things. But she doesn’t kiss him, because she remembers that she was supposed to call Tess when she got home, and that was about an hour and a half ago. So she pushes her self up from the couch, and she stumbles just a bit but catches herself. “I should probably go,” she says. “I was supposed to call Tess, so she could be freakin out.” Shawn just nods, and she wants to say he looks disappointed, but like it was said earlier, she’s a little drunk and it’s really dark. He stands up too, walking her to the door and even going as far as “walking her home” even though her apartment was only about fifteen to twenty feet down the hall. They stood outside of her door, his hands in his pockets while she fiddled around with her keys (her door had an automatic lock on it; safety first obviously). She finally managed to get the door unlocked, opening it slightly, then turning slightly to wish him goodnight, and that’s when they both realize how close they actually are to each other. Her breath gets caught in her lungs just a little, and she can see that his breathing has increased. They’re both nervous, at least nervous enough, and seems like years pass with how close they’re standing to each other while the both stare at each other, eyes only flicking to each other’s lips when the other isn’t paying attention. He’s the one that leans down, and she knows that she can’t be imagining it, because when his lips meet hers it’s like the New Years fireworks have started all over again, and she’s freaking out. It’s soft, and slow, and she feels like she’s dying inside, but only in the best way possible. But then he pulls away, and she’s a little disappointed, but at the same time she can’t be. She offers another small smile, and he gives one back, and their both muttering “goodnight” to each other at the same time while blushing profusely. Next thing she knows, she’s shutting her door door with a heavy sigh, but a huge smile on her face. And all of this is because Emery has a huge fucking crush on her greek god of a neighbor that blasts music through the thin walls.

#my writing #sm #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fic #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes x oc #shawn mendes fanfiction

[badnovels]

Did I miss the porn!Peeta fic posting? Because there are few things that would upset me more than if I missed one of your fics about a porn!Peeta. Just that phrase makes me tingly. #everlark #it'sbeensolong #butnorush #lyingtho

No, you haven’t missed anything! It’s below the cut. 

—

“He’s being a real bitch today,” Glimmer complained. She left a trail of her namesake across the floor as she stalked down the hallway. Her beautiful face, heavily made-up to appear flawless on screen, was mutinous. Her body was covered in a sheer peignoir that was dripping glitter as she walked, and her surgically enhanced breasts pointed rosy-tipped nipples at Katniss, which she studiously tried to ignore as she replied to an email on her phone.

“Sorry.” Katniss shrugged and finally met the other girl’s eyes. She slipped her phone in her back pocket and sighed. “You know I don’t control him. No one can.” 

To say that Peeta Mellark was an unstoppable force was an understatement. That anyone believed she had any real sway over him was laughable on a good day, but today wasn’t going to be a good day, because yesterday? Peeta caught her doing something she’d sworn never to do.

He hadn’t spoken to her since. 

And considering he didn’t go one hour without texting or calling or giving her some sort of order…well. Katniss wasn’t about to start making any demands on his schedule. He’d sent her one line this morning: studio @ nine. When she’d arrived, he was sequestered in a room that was already shooting a scene, and she’d been loitering in the hallway like a troll ever since. 

“Oh, whatever,” Glimmer said with a derisive frown. “You’re his precious…” Katniss stared at her. “…personal assistant,” she finished with a little more respect. “You could at least give us a heads up. I hate when he crashes in like this.”

“Look. He owns the production company,” Katniss said. She drank deeply from the tepid cup of coffee in her hand and grimaced. Peeta liked it sugar-sweet and full of cream, the opposite of her preference, but she needed fortification this morning if she were going to deal with a confrontation with temperamental talent. “He can show up whenever he wants.”

“Yeah, but I thought he was above all…this…now.” Glimmer gestured vaguely with her hands. “He can just sit back and relax while we make money for him on our backs.”

She choked during her next long sip. “You make him sound like a pimp.”

“If the shoe fits! It’s ridiculous how he storms in here-” The words cut off like a scratched record, and Katniss didn’t have to turn to know why.

“For your information,” Peeta said, taking the coffee cup from Katniss’ hand without acknowledging her. “A pimp wouldn’t pay you nearly as well as I do.”

“I didn’t mean…I just meant…” Glimmer stammered, backing away.

“Maybe if you put as much passion into your scenes as you do talking shit about me, we wouldn’t have to do so many reshoots,” he said. His trademark blue eyes were cold.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Go cry it out in the dressing room,” he said. “When you come back, I expect you to be professional and ready to nail your scenes. Literally.”

Glimmer fled. Katniss cleared her throat.

“That was unnecessary, don’t you think?” She tried as hard as she could to sound normal.

“Don’t even start,” Peeta warned, his voice low. He lifted the cup and glared at the lip gloss-stained rim. “You had to drink my fucking coffee?”

“I drink it every morning. Out of spite.”

“Why’d you do it?” he asked suddenly, throwing the half-full cup into the trash.

“Well.” She chewed on her lip and looked at the wall behind him. “I really didn’t know you were that serious about your coffee.”

“Don’t.”

Katniss exhaled and closed her eyes. She couldn’t believe he was actually going to bring it up. Why couldn’t they just quietly go about ignoring unsaid things? It worked for them. 

“Do you really have to do this right now?” she mumbled, turning away. She had a hard time meeting his eyes. “Let it go.”

“I had one request. One rule,” Peeta said, grasping her arm and pulling her back toward him. “Look at me.”

She reluctantly did as he asked, her face burning.

“I asked you not to watch my films,” he said slowly, “because of this. Right here.”

“This, what?”

He gave her a resentful look, his handsome face showing the true depth of his anger. He didn’t look like a polished, successful entrepreneur at that moment. He didn’t look like the funny, humble man that he was sometimes with her in private, a hard-won intimacy and friendship she’d developed as the person who looked after his every need for the past three years. Peeta now looked like the raw, brutish person who fought his way up from a dodgy, orphaned childhood, where he transitioned from a homeless teen to an edgy adult film star who specialized in controversial, rough kink.

“This. Where you can barely talk to me. Where you treat me like I’m something to be ashamed of,” he said, voice hard.

“Jesus!” she exclaimed. “Do you really think I’m that much of a prude? I work for the owner of a porn company.”

“You’re my assistant because you had no choice,” Peeta reminded her with a curl of his upper lip. “You’d be on the first flight outta LA if you’d had any other options. You took this job because you were broke and desperate, and Prim begged me for the favor.”

“That’s really low.” Disbelief flared, taking the place of embarassment. “Don’t bring my sister into this.”

“Why not?” he taunted her, his beautiful smile unkind and cruel.

“Because…” She was speechless with anger and confusion and hurt. This was all spiraling so out of control. They were breaking every one of their rules, even the unspoken ones.

“Just say it.” He stepped into her space, crowding her against the wall. “It’s because I fucked her? Years ago? Aw.” He was all faux-solicitousness. “It was just for the movies, sweetheart.”

Katniss’ vision blurred. “No.” The sudden outrage made her shake, and another emotion, something sharper and brighter and painful, made her eyes burn. “Because you dragged her into this shit.”

His laugh was a bitter, brittle thing. “Now we get to the truth. The shit.” He was so close now that their foreheads were practically touching. “The disgusting porn industry that Katniss Everdeen is so far above. Who cares that it pays your bills every month.”

She pushed him, but he didn’t move. Peeta was big, and hard, and though he didn’t have a reason to keep his body in the same peak physical condition he needed back when he starred in the movies that he now produced, he was just as buff as he’d ever been.

“You’re putting words into my mouth. She’s my baby sister. I wanted…I wanted something else. I wanted her to go to school. To be a doctor. And then she met you, and the next thing I know, she’s banging people on screen and changing her name to Rose Deen.”

“I didn’t make her do anything. She asked me for a foot in the door. And she’s successful. She’s happy,” Peeta gritted out. “Prim’s my friend. I’d never hurt her, not then. Not now.”

“It doesn’t hurt that you’re making a heavy profit off of her now, either,” she said meanly, regretting it instantly when a flash of hurt that swiftly turned to anger crossed his face. God, envy made her a bitch. “Wait-”

“It’s fine.” He gave her a blank look, the kind he sent to people who didn’t matter. “It’s time to watch the dailies. You’re coming with me.”

“But I don’t do that,” she protested feebly, flustered from both the request and what she had just said to him. “Finnick usually does that with you.”

“Okay. You can do it. Or you can quit. It’s up to you,” he said, staring at her. He wasn’t throwing a tantrum. He wasn’t being a dick. He was matter-of-fact, like he didn’t care whether she walked out of the studio doors or not.

“All right,” Katniss muttered, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Look. I’m sorry. I know you’ve been good to Prim. And that it was just business.”

“Don’t be sorry. Do your job.”

Peeta turned on his heel and stalked down the hall. She struggled to keep up with him, ignoring the sympathetic grimaces that actors and crew members gave her as she hustled past. Normally she was on the other end of this particularly unpleasant stick, the one to give reassuring looks to the people that Peeta blistered on a daily basis.

Finnick turned and stared at them when Katniss trailed behind Peeta into the editing room.

“Boy. You two look like you’ve been through some things,” he observed. His copper hair gleamed to perfection, and his skin shone with good health under the same lights that made Katniss look like a hag. She hated him, and not just because of his beauty. It was for the same reason she harbored a secret, horrifying little anger at her own sister: Finnick had once gotten to touch Peeta Mellark, even if it was on film.

Katniss glared at him while Peeta examined something on one of the screens. 

“Hmm.” Her nemesis took a bite from an apple and leaned back in his computer chair, addressing Katniss. “Exactly why am I being blessed with your presence, tiny?”

“Ask my demon overlord.” She plopped down on the couch that was against the wall and then frowned. “I’m not sitting on any DNA right now, am I?”

“Casting couches are in the room next door,” Finn said with a leer. “It’s where you did your interview, actually.”

“Ugh! Shut up.” For a moment she forgot she was in a fight with her boss. “Peeta! Tell him to stop lying.”

“Don’t torment my assistant,” he said curtly. Then he sat down next to her on the couch, his thigh touching hers. “That’s my personal privilege. Now roll on the footage from this morning.”

Finn cast a doubtful look her way that was mixed with disdain. She knew he mostly considered her an annoying little prude who got in the way of his friendship and personal time with Peeta, but to hell with him. She was here because she was asked and she wasn’t going to be intimidated by the likes of a former porn star named King Badcock.

“Yeah…um.” Katniss gestured at the bank of screens, refusing to be cowed by Finn. “Play it.”

And then something happened.

What ensued was the most uneasy two hours of her life. She’d seen her fair share of cock and vagina before, especially as Peeta’s employee, but this was raw and up-close and technical. And it was discussed in great detail, paused and analyzed, all while the heat from Peeta’s body was touching hers. She couldn’t explain it, couldn’t even put it into words, but hearing words like ‘cum shot’ and ‘squirting’ dropped from such a beautiful mouth in such a dry, deadpan voice was doing something to her that no amount of actual porn had ever done. So she sat there in quiet, squirming agony while Peeta and Finn talked around her.

Her leg was jiggling with nervous energy when Peeta landed a heavy hand on her knee.

“Like I was saying,” he said as if nothing had changed. “Zoom in right there, Finn. Yeah.”

Katniss stiffened and looked at his profile, but he just continued to speak to his partner. His fingers were there, splayed on her skin, and it was somehow the most vulgar sight she’d ever seen. He might as well have been nine inches deep in her pussy, she was so turned on– turned on and furious at herself for her reaction.

“Peeta.”

He and Finn both turned to look at her, their expressions odd. She could only imagine what they saw. She was hot, and if she wasn’t sweating she soon would be. Any second she was going to come right out of her skin. 

“Yes?” he asked.

“I need.” She stopped and started and rubbed her face, stuttering. “I need…I need to talk to you.”

He stared at her. Saw something in her countenance. Then he looked at Finn. “Get out.”

“You serious?” Finnick said, visibly annoyed. “You called me into the studio early, talking shit about being on a time constraint. And now-’

“Get. Out.”

He got out.

“Well?” Peeta finally asked in the long moment that followed Finnick’s departure.

“I…” She tripped over her tongue.

Silence. Then, “You look like you want be fucked.” This was delivered coolly, deadpan, but he couldn’t quite hide the undercurrent of something like astonishment.

“You’re so arrogant,” she said, her hand shaking. Katniss stood, but his strong hands found her hips, and he pulled her down to sit on his lap. She wasn’t even surprised. It was a Wednesday afternoon and she was sitting on Peeta Mellark’s denim-covered erection, and it felt as natural as breathing.

“Do you?” he asked into her ear. “Just say the word. Say anything, Kat.” She held back a moan. “I’ll be your dirty little secret. Your nasty, trashy porn star.” He bit the shell of her ear and Katniss squeaked. Squeaked. “I’ll be whatever you want, just tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” she whispered. And she really did. Despite the history with her sister, the fact that she worked for him, that they could barely go a day without bickering…she wanted Peeta Mellark with an intensity that scared her. 

She thought he’d explode into action at her words. If it had been one his movies, he’d have torn her dress straight down the back. He’d rip her underwear with his bare hands and pound into her, then and there.

Instead, it was a painfully slow seduction that followed. He lifted her up, turned her to face him, and looked at her.

“You’re so damn pretty,” he said almost angrily. He fingers were at contrast to his voice, gentling gliding over the rise of her cheekbones. “I don’t understand…I don’t know why it feels like this. I’ve seen so many beautiful women. Nicer women.”

“Charmer.”

“I don’t want beautiful. Or nice, I guess,” he said. “I want you. With your sour patch tongue and mean eyes and sweet lips…god, your fucking lips.”

Peeta kissed her. His tongue swept her mouth, and she allowed it, giving back the energy he was infusing into her. His hands ran down her arms as if to give her warmth, but then they were working on the buttons of her shirt-dress, both nimble and leisurely at the same time. Her bra came off and then his clever mouth was pressing kissing down her jaw, nipping the sensitive space between neck and shoulder, and then pulling gently at her sensitive nipple, worrying it with his straight white teeth.

When he pulled his head away she almost cried.

“Come back,” she said, and he laughed in disbelief before scrubbing at his face.

“Can’t believe I’m saying this. But. I don’t wanna do you here,” he said. With his blond waves and flushed face, he suddenly looked more like a fallen angel rather a hardened businessman.“That seems…I don’t want to.”

“Where, then?” Katniss panted, staring up at him with frustration and bewilderment.

Peeta didn’t speak for a long moment. Instead, he helped her back into her bra, kissing her every time she started to protest.

“Let me take you on a date.” His expression was a mix of grumpy, horny defiance and a dash of what she’d swear was vulnerability. “A good one. We can fuck all night long after that.”

“Why?”

He closed his eyes as if praying for inner peace. “Because I like you. I like you and I want to do it right. For once. Prove to you I’m not the man you think I am. That I can be a better man.”

“I don’t think you’re a bad man, Peeta.” She touched his cheek. “I thought…I don’t know. I’m not anything like what someone like you’d be interested in.”

“You kidding?” He gestured toward his still-raging erection. Then he stopped and shook his head. “Let me show you…just…” He held up his finger and pulled out his phone, the one she spent an hour setting up before painstakingly explaining to him how to use it for two more. He tapped on it for a moment and then thrust it at her. The background photo was a picture of Katniss, tipsy and beaming a rare smile after drinking too many margaritas at a wrap party a few months back.

Katniss blinked in pure surprise, completely at a loss. “But you’re my boss” was all she could think to say.

He gave her the squint-eyed stare she had grown to know so well. “You’re worrying about that now? You were dry humping me not ten minutes ago.”

She huffed, purely for show. “Do you wanna date me or not, asshole?”

Peeta laughed. “There’s my girl.”

#boy am i rusty #bless this mess #everlark #hunger games fanfiction #ficlet #reply #macchapstick

[runicmagitek]

fic meme questions! 2, 3, 4, 7, 8 💕

Many thanks for the ask and hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long :)

Already did 2, but here are the rest!

3. Is there a trope you wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole?

Domestic AUs and by extension, anything involving kids or marriage. I'd rather gag myself with a spoon than read or write any of that. I don't understand the appeal of domestic AUs or curtainfics. Maybe if it involves food, because I do love cooking and baking, but like... a story revolved around doing each other's laundry? Going out shopping for a mattress? Buying a house together? Um... no? I don't understand why people like these types of fics, but it feels like they've never experienced doing any of those things first hands. Folding laundry is tedious and not romantic. Shopping for shit by myself is stressful, never mind shopping WITH someone else (thank god my boyfriend is extremely patient and we have the same taste, but I still dread it). And jumping off of that, I really don't give a shit about society's conventional views towards marriage, so I'm not interested in writing about it. And kids... just no. I stop reading fics if a pairing randomly has a kid together, never mind writing about it.

4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

I mean... nurturing as in actively working on or like, "nurturing" as in I at least conceived it, but it may or may not be locked up and neglected in a closet somewhere? Actually, let's go with the first option, or else we'll be here all day. I'm actively "nurturing" six fic ideas (not including my drabbles): Darkness/Starlight, OT3 fic, Rinoa pre-canon fic, a Pyre oneshot, and two things for Camp NaNo this April. Darkness/Starlight is almost done, so just doing last rounds of edits before posting bits. The OT3 fic (Setzer/Darill/Maria) is still being read over by my lovely beta and I'll start working on posting that once she finishes and once Darkness/Starlight is over. I've finished editing my Rinoa pre-canon fic and waiting for my beta to finish the OT3 one before overwhelming her with another fic D: at least it's like 1/5 of the word count? I'm slowly writing up a Pyre fic I've had in my head in a while and wasn't sure how to go about it. It's really nice to write out my Reader and hopefully people will like them. For Camp NaNo (HAHAHA oh right, that’s a thing... which seems to always start right after AB, when I’m still in low-battery mode), it's kind of my "get your shit together" month. I started working on a Setzer fic several years ago, posted the first chapter and... never wrote anymore. Granted, my boyfriend and I were trying not to die when this happened, so no wonder I just outright forgot about it. It's only 3 more chapters, so that shouldn't be too hard (I say this and then it suddenly blows up into 20k words). And when that's done, I have a Transistor pre-canon fic that I also had in the works during that same time period. It was originally meant for Transistor week, but... yeah, my boyfriend literally went to the ER a couple weeks before that and my brain shut down. That one I have thoroughly planned out and know it will be 7 chapters... probably end up being anywhere between 14k and 28k. Depends on how much I decide to write per chapter.

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you've written and explain why you're proud of it.

This changes for me every year, which I guess is a good thing, because that means I'm improving. My current favorite section of prose is a big spoiler for Darkness/Starlight so I don't really want to post any of it out of context (and it's really hard to even pick just a single line that's not spoiler-y), but it's a scene that involves Shiva and Celes. You ever have one of those scenes and it plays out perfectly in your head, but you don't know how to describe it? That was that scene for me. I was happy to finally nail it down and am very pleased with how it came out. I wanted it to come across as both chaotic and surreal, yet cathartic. 

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.

Did you mean: EVERYTHING WITH EDGAR IN DARKNESS/STARLIGHT???Where do I even begin??? This is probably my favorite dialogue with him:

“So, before all of that happened, have you been enjoying yourself?”

Typical Edgar, always trying to lighten the mood. Celes appreciated that aspect of him for once. “As much as I can, yes. And yourself?”

“Are you kidding? I live for this sort of thing! It’s been far too long since we’ve hosted such an event here. It’s a wondrous time. All the music and the dancing and the food and the gossip.” The way he raised his eyebrows should have concerned Celes. “Word has it, apparently, that I’m the fashion mastermind of the evening. Dressed both Terra and you. Must have been some concoction I drank the other night, because I do not recall finding that—” And now he was goggling at her dress. It was only a matter of time. “—in the spare closets lurking around here. Usually when I get that drunk, I’m lucky if I wake up with three women in bed with—”

“Edgar!”

I don't know why Edgar came off as the comedic relief in Darkness/Starlight, but it kind of happened. Not only are his lines a much-needed break from the seriousness/drama of the story, but they were a blast to write. And I'm thrilled my readers are enjoying him. He's kind of stealing the show, so to speak. Then again, I have a soft spot for secondary characters. It all works out! 

#my writing #meme thing #farfromdaylight

[waldowski89-blog]

Two Lazy Weeks in the Making… (somewhere at the beginning of August 2017)

(Edit: Okay, the title sounds more dramatic than the actual bulk of this post but lets get into the ramblings of a madman who talks about nothing whilst trying to make it sound interesting. I’m also going to have to do a lot of writing as I want to catch up with all the post I’ve missed… which is a lot. Off we go into the post then)

(After Edit: Scroll to the credits music at the bottom and you can also listen to some albums/music that I listened to while writing this)

Hello again, I’m back! Not that I really left. I’ve been over on Twitch and Twitter mainly. So I’ve got lots of plans for social media stuff and am keeping myself busy. I know this shouldn’t be a diary type thing. Those can be boring. Especially mine seen as nothing much really happens in my life… honest!

I will be starting an Instagram account this week… yay! Please feel free to follow me on all my different accounts. It sounds like it’s all me me me (meme, har har) but I promise you it will all be entertaining… like a train wreck is entertaining. Tune in to watch a fully grown man go slowly insane. (Edit: That’s a laugh)

I’ve said before that: “Waldowski” is a character of mine and he is. However, my own personality seems to be… “shining” through in his work… or my work I suppose.

(12/8/17 (Edit: English style date)):

Right, so I wrote the top part a few days ago (Thurs 10/8/17 I think) and now I’m coming back to this. I’m going back to my old schedule and goals and adding a few things. When I do Twitch streams, which should be everyday. TWITCH STREAM ERRYDAY *AIRHORNS* I may do longer than an hour. I just bought Assassin’s Creed Origins too so stay tuned for that, exciting stuff! (Edit: I literally just bought it because I forgot to enter the discount code. What a mess!)

I was watching a vid earlier about Michael Jackson’s involvement in creating the music for Sonic 3. It was very interesting and I have heard about this before. The whole thing is pretty much confirmed now but it’s interesting to follow all the theories and research that’s been done into this. I won’t reiterate what’s already been said but I will link the recent vid on the subject. There are links in there too so hopefully I haven’t sent you into a research, insomniac inducing frenzy of a pit of information where you’re just holding a steaming cup of coffee with straggly hair and bloodshot eyes just looking for your next fix on that Michael Jackson/Sega music conspiracy… and breathe. Sorry for that long sentence, I got carried away.

Okay I’m back writing this again on 13/8/17. I’m going to finish this post tonight! I’m watching Key and Peele again. Those guys are funny, anyway, what I’m doing is writing out four pages by hand with my brilliant Parker fountain pen… okay… I think I’ve really lost it. I’m coming back out of retirement (secret link of more Key and Peele I didn’t post on twitter) (Edit: I put it in the Research section below too. Also, thanks to Philip DeFranco for the idea of a secret link. What fun!)

More plans are a: “Let’s Read” YouTube channel called: “Waldowski Reads”. I still have to get a few things to set that up first. It will be much like a let’s play channel but with me trying to read a book… funny, eh?

This kinda reminds me of when I’d do work at University. I’d have to set goals, plan things, etc… I have been doing this but falling behind lately. In any case none of that matters now. I’ve gotta move on and get on with actually doing stuff.

So, everything’s planned out for a little while for me. Anything happening out there? (apart from all the bad news of course. I already know about that stuff) I genuinely mean it too with following me on social media. I try to talk to as many people as I can nowadays.

Blergh, how did I do this before? A few months ago I’d bang out 1,000 words like it was nothing.

Oh my God, I totally forgot, Na Wri Mo (Edit: Almost, but it’s Na NO Wri Mo because it happens in November) is happening soon. Ugh, I’d always wanted to try it for years. What I’m worried about is one whether what I write will be any good, if I stick to it (quitting will feel like a massive failure for me) and if I’ll take it seriously (nothing should, I suppose) (Edit: Kinda gave up on the numbering of reasons, didn’t I ?) but I’ve had a tendency to let things travel into the realm of ridiculousness before… hmn, maybe that’s a good thing? It might turn out silly and fun for once. I’m not putting “The Vague Chronicles” in there either. Maybe the characters can crossover, I dunno.

It’s pretty much 12:00am as I write this. I’m gonna get it finished before I sleep anyway. So it’s four sides of handwritten A4 pages… did I already write that?

In any case, I keep liking vids on YouTube but they don’t stay liked (random I know but what else can I write… look at this shit. How the fuck is my Na Wri Mo (Edit: Pleb) project going to look? I don’t even have a plan Jesus Christ. Also yes I’m swearing… I’ve been drinking a little bit too. I’m not an example of how life should be lived… this is just an account of how I’m living mine)

Shit, I’m supposed to disappear. Well, at least in novel writing I am. Writing is about the characters not me, at least that what I’ve been told. I’ve also been told: “Write what you know”.

Back again. Been distracted by life. In… anyway what I was saying was ugh… it doesn’t matter I’m not supposed to be in the story, my characters are… but why do I become them sometimes? I have to… that’s the point.

So, this is the last page (handwritten anyway)

Damn, look at this, I’m letting myself get distracted at every turn. It’s 4:04 in the morning and I haven’t finished. I’ll have to type all this up tomorrow. Hello me! Weird right? You’re typing this up and I’m talking to you. (Edit: … yes very… I hope I get back to the point, whatever it was)

So, seriously. I dunno. This pen is kinda cool, right? Tired AndwewsiesTM. This will go up on Tumblr. I know I’m irrelevant at the moment. So drunk WHO CARES ABOUT THAT!? Nevermobf.

So, Assassin’s Creed Origins is coming soon… in October. Hopefully I’ll be ready to do a let’s play/stream hey I might even do an unboxing. It’s a collector’s edition with a figure and other stuff too. I’ll do it like the vid I’m showing someone now. Wink wink. (Edit: It was just me reading the handwritten version out… HUSHIES) She gets to see the handwritten stuff. This is her day after all! The best fan/troll anyone could ever hope for.

Gosh my writing is getting bad, so drunk. I’m okay of course. Oh! So there’s like four things I think I have to link in this “blog”. Um, the Michael Jackson Sonic 3 vid, the music from the Jetzons associated with that, the Key and Peele vid, oh and finally the AC Origins pic.

I’m back but for now… goodbye and I will see… MAY see you tomorrow. My name’s Waldowski and thank you to everyone who read this or listened.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ILY UWU!

AW

Research Links:

A Brief History of Michael Jackson's Sonic the Hedgehog 3

The Jetzons - Hard Times(Sonic 3 Ice Cap Zone Act 1 & 2 Remix)

Michael Jackson's Moonwalker - Sega Genesis - Angry Video Game Nerd - Episode 63

I’m Coming out of Retirement One Last Time...

Credits Music:

Thought Beings - Italo Nights

Tommy '86 - Disco Machine - [FULL EP]

Nightcrawler - Strange Shadows - [FULL EP]

VHS Glitch - Halloween Strangers [FULL ALBUM]

Bonus

Off we go...

Into uncharted lands...

[jeonnucho-blog]

“Makes twelve copies of this.” You instructed the poor intern, handing her the project proposal for the meeting later. “I need that by 4pm this afternoon. That’s all. You may leave.”

She nodded with the proposal in her hands and then left your office. You are the edit-in-chief of a famous magazine. Every day is a shitty day for you at work, lots of paper works stacked on your table and on days when you have your period, it’s like every day seems to annoy you. Your known as the Ice Queen in the office, the interns feared you and the people working with you are all intimidated by you which just justifies how efficient you are in you line of work.

You and Namjoon go way back even before he became famous. He came first before you even got your position in your current workplace, before you were known to be the Ice Queen. A few months ago, you were dating secretly until he decided that he wants to go public with you. He told you that he talked about it with his label company and they said it was fine so there’s nothing stopping him.

Anybody who is a somebody knew who BTS are. By now, it’s like common sense to know the popular male idol group, having gotten their name on Billboard charts and receiving all kinds of awards both locally and internationally. They’re considered to be sensational according to one interview they had recently, which brings you to be the topic of the grape vine.

Everyone envied you, especially now, that the news of your relationship with BTS’ Kim Namjoon spread around the office but you didn’t care. Since it didn’t affect your work and tour reputation. Actually, even until now, not one of them could ask you personally if it was true or not.

You got a call from him today, saying that he wants to brag lunch with you. You sent him a message, saying you’ll meet him up outside the office to avoid the public attention.

“This is good.” You scanned a folder of another project you’re working on. “We can use this.”

“Excuse me, Miss Y/n, someone’s here for you.” Said your assistant. “He said he made an appointment with you?”

You looked over her shoulder and found your boyfriend waving at you by the door. He was always stylish even with a simple black shirt and pants. That’s to be expected from an idol. He smiles at you then at your assistant as she asked him to take a seat.

“Finalize this and submit it to me tomorrow.” You finished instructed your stuff before sending him away. “Oh and I want more details rather than figures on the background.”

Namjoon took the liberty to sit at the chair in front of your desk when you were alone in your office, “I brought lunch.”

“I thought we were going out?” You asked, setting aside some of the papers you were working on a while ago.

“I figured you’d want to stay in your office.” He said, offering you the food he brought. “Those poor kids. You were totally terrorizing those interns earlier, weren’t you?” he joked.

“No, I didn’t.” unconsciously, you were smiling. He was the only one who can make you smile in an instant. You locked the office door and closed the blinds cause everyone had their noses stuck on your window, trying to see your boyfriend as much as possible.

“Can I come over tonight?” he handed you your favorite drink, Milk tea, making you smile at the simple gesture.

“Are you buying your way into my apartment with this?” you referred to your drink.

“Not exactly but I was hoping that it will help me.” He grinned, having a bite of this sandwich.

“But I have a company dinner tonight…” you pouted, Namjoon adores your aegyo.  

“I can wait up for you.” He insisted. You looked up at him, sipping on your milktea, “But aren’t you busy?”

“Nope. We just finished the tour and out manager said I can have my day off tomorrow.” He said, taking another bite. “Plus we have to talk about you moving in with me. I found the perfect studio type apartment for us. We can visit the place tomorrow. That do you think?”

“Okay. Sounds like a well thought of plan.” You flashed him a petite smile. “You have sauce on your lips.”

“Where?” Namjoon took a tissue but missed it.

You grabbed his hand, bending over the table and wiped it off his face, at the same time; you took your chance to kiss him. “I got it off for you.”

“Aren’t you aggressive today?” he licked his lips as he crumpled the sandwich wrapper and threw it in the trash can, “That’s not good for you.”

You played along with a grin, “We’ll see about that later.”

“Y/n?” Namjoon dropped the smile as he held your gaze.

“What? Why do you have that look on your face?” you chuckled.

“I’ve been thinking lately…about us. We’ve been dating for four years now, don’t you want to settle down?” he said and you didn’t know what to say. It was so unexpected of him to think of things like marriage since he has a career going on.

“Marriage? Why this all of a sudden?” you tried to break the ice with a weak chuckle.

“You don’t want to?” he added, you saw in his eyes how much he wanted this but he considered your feelings before anything else, “It’s okay if you say no. I’m not proposing or anything.”

“No, I want to but-“Before you can even finish your sentence, a knock came on your door. Setting aside the topic at hand, you cleared your throat and spoke, “Come in.”

“I’m sorry to barge in like this.” You assistant abruptly opened the door. “I have a message from the higher ups.”

“Oh, it’s okay. You can get to work. At all cost, don’t mind me.” Namjoon smiled at her and you got kinda jealous but you didn’t let it show. It was obvious your assistant developed a small crush on your boyfriend from the way she shyly smiled back.

“Do you have something important to say?” you returned to being the heartless Queen again.

“Um, yes. Actually, they called for an emergency meeting. It will start in 20 mins.” She reported  and placed some folders on your table, “Here are the contents for the meeting.”

“Okay, thank you. You can leave.” You cleaned up your desk and organized the folders on your table.

“Be a little nicer, will you? She was so scared of you.” Namjoon chuckled as soon as your assistant left. He placed his hands on your hips and pulled you close to him, “Why do you put up front like that? You can act a bit friendlier you know.”

“This is fine. I’m setting a boundary between my work and my personal life.” You reasoned.

“I just wish you’d let your defenses down a little. I can see that this is stressing you out. you should have fun and meet new friends…” Namjoon gave you a warm embrace before he kissed you on the forehead.

“I don’t need new friends. I have you.” You said against his chest as you wrapped your arms behind his back.

He tipped your head up gently with his hand and you meet his eyes. Namjoon kissed your lips briefly and smiled as he pulled again, “I’ll see you at your place?”

You nodded and kissed him again. “I’ll see you there.”

“I’m going now. Be nicer, okay?” he said before heading out the door and then he mouthed to you the words that made you smile even warmer, “I love you.”

…

The company dinner took longer than you expected. A surprise guest, who was the owner of a famous clothing line, came. She was a friend of your boss so when she asked you to accompany her guest, you couldn’t simply refuse even though you knew Namjoon was waiting for you at home. You sighed and just went with it, telling Namjoon through a text message that you will get home later than you anticipated.

After showing the guest around, introducing her to some of the important people around and engaging in small business chats, you decided to sit back and just wait for the time to pass. One glass, two glass until it became a dozen. You didn’t realize you’ve drunk all of it until you stood up and saw the floor moving.

The powder room looked too impossible for you to walk since you started feeling dizzy under the influence of alcohol. How are you going to get home, you thought. You wobbled unsteadily when you tried to stand and almost fell face flat on the floor.

“Drinking was never one of the things you’re good at.” You looked up at the man who caught your waist, planning to thank him until you saw who he was. “It’s been a while since we last saw each other and I, honestly did not imagine I’ll see you in a place like this, completely drunk.”

“Leo.” You grunted.

He was your ex-boyfriend. The one who you were head over heels for before you met Namjoon. He caused you the worst heartbreak because you sincerely loved him to the point of wanting to have a future with him until you found out that you were only the subject of a bet he had with his idiotic friends. “Let go. Why are you even here?”

“Don’t tell me you’re still hung up about the past?” Leo had an annoying smug look on his face, making you want to punch him senseless until he can’t stand anymore. “You’re drunk. Let me drive you home. Where do you live?”

“I’m not telling you where I live, you psycho.” You stubbornly answered, “Never in a million years.”

“I forgot that you literally become a child when you’re drunk. Cute.” He smiled as he ushered you put and into the parking lot. Damn, he’s as attractive as he was back then.

“Don’t you dare flirt with me! I have a boyfriend!” you warned.

“Oh really?” he laughed at you.

“Yes and I’m going to call him right now.” You tried to steady yourself on your own feet as you searched for your phone but you couldn’t find it in your purse. “Shit.”

“What? You remembered that you’re single?” he mocked you again. You would’ve slapped him if you weren’t too drunk to control your arm. You can’t even aim well.

“No, moron.” You emphasized on the word moron, “I left my phone in the powder room. I’ll go and get it-“

You were about to go and find your phone when he grabbed your arms to stop you, “Just tell me where your freaking house is. You’re tired and drunk so let me drive you home.”

“Alright, I’ll tell you where I live BUT!” even though you can barely speak straight, you still tried to warn him, “Don’t try anything with me if ever I pass out or something, got it?”

“I doubt that you really have boyfriend.” Leo opened the door and cocked his head gesturing that you should get in the car.

“You’re so full of yourself you know that?” you snapped back at him, “I have a boyfriend and he’s waiting for me at home.”

He chuckled, “You haven’t changed a bit, Y/n.”

….

“Hey….hey, Y/n, we’re at your house.” You felt a hand on your cheek. You held it closer to your face, mistaken Leo for Namjoon.

“Namjoon, kiss me.” You whined as you pull him down on you.

Leo sighed and kissed you right then and there. Not too long into the kiss, you realized that he’s not your boyfriend. You pushed him back hard, sending him back to his seat.

“What- Why did you do that?” he was surprised and you were too.

“I told you I have a boyfriend!” you said, “I can’t believe I kissed you!”

“What? You weren’t joking?” he said, confusion all over his face.

“I clearly wasn’t, you pervert! Why did you think I was joking?” you replied angrily then you grabbed your pursed and got out of his car.

Worried that he would chase after you, you hurriedly walked inside your building and only slowed down when you secured yourself inside the elevator. While waiting for the elevator to stop on your floor, you held yourself up by holding onto the rails made for disabled people, wishing your head would stop spinning.

“Namjoon?” the light were on inside your apartment, you began calling out your boyfriend’s name.

“I’m in here.” You heard him behind you, sitting on the table. “You didn’t call.”

You knew he was angry at you. You made your way to him, “I’m sorry baby. I lost my phone at the party that’s way i-“

“You should’ve tried calling me instead of riding in that asshole’s car!” Namjoon raised his voice at you. “Why did you kiss him? Why would you do this to me after all these years?”

“You saw us?” you didn’t know how to explain to him.

“You still love him, don’t you?” his frown broke your heart, “Is that the reason why you don’t want to settle down with me?”

“No, baby. It’s not like that.” You touched the side of his face softly, pulling him in to connect your forehead together. “I don’t love him. I love you. I was drunk and fell asleep while he drove me home. When I woke up, I thought he was you… so I kissed him but it didn’t mean anything.”

“Please believe me.” You slide your hands down the side of his neck and around his torso as you molded your body against him. You closed your eyes and felt all his tensed muscle under his clothes as you embraced him, “Why would I want to come back to him when I have you? I’m sorry if I let my guard down earlier. Sorry if I let you have these thoughts about us. I love you and I want to be with you but please let me take my time.”

“Let’s take our time together..” Namjoon’s hands felt warm as they snake around you lower back. You stayed in is arms for a little while longer, wanting to feel more of him.

You broke the hug and looked up at his face before you took his hand and linked his fingers with yours, “You don’t need to rush cause I’m not going anywhere without you.”

A loving smile came upon his face and he slowly leaned down to take your lips against his, moving so perfectly with your own as you let your hands rest on his chest.

“Me too.” You opened your eyes when he whispered against your mouth. You looked into his eyes and saw how deeply he loved you.

Namjoon tucked your hair behind your ear. “Trust that I’m not going anywhere without you by my side too, Y/n.”

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