#but even then once I’ve written through my whole stream of consciousness thing I’m still like I don’t know how to turn it down

[sister2of5]

Saga of the Aesthetic Book Stack, Parts 1 and 2

Well, it’s certainly been a long time since I’ve blogged on this account...

For Christmas last year, my mother purchased an aesthetic book stack in blue-green for me. I plan to read that foot of books with similarly colored bindings. I’m going to babble about it too.

Definitely spoilers ahead.

These will probably get quite long, so...

I have a bad habit of reading more than one book at a time and flipping back and forth between them in little chunks. It’s partly a focus issue and partly because digesting things a snippet at a time works well for me.

I’m already partway through the first two books, but my goal going forward is to write a little a bit about my impressions once a week as I go.

Once I have finished any of the books, I will give an overall assessment of whether I would recommend them, and to whom.

The first two books are “A Pirate Looks at Fifty” and “Where is Joe Merchant?” both by Jimmy Buffet. These two books actually work very well in conjunction with each other, even though one is a novel and the other is not. Thanks to Jimmy’s publishers for liking blue-green binding, I guess?

“Pirate” was written after “Joe Merchant”, but Jimmy references the novel multiple times in the non-fiction piece. For a work of fiction, there’s a lot of autobiographical Jimmy Buffet tidbits and Easter eggs in it that I probably wouldn’t notice if I weren’t reading both books together.

For grins, we’ll start with the first chronologically.

“Where is Joe Merchant?” is about a sea plane charter pilot named Frank Bama who is a bit down on his luck in the business department. To keep his plane from being repossessed by the bank, he plans to run away to Alaska, but circumstances keep making that unlikely.

I have spent very little time in either Florida or the Caribbean, the main locations in the story thus far. I am also not very into either aviation or fishing, the main loves of the main character.

Frank’s a bit of a disaster, which I guess is more interesting to read that someone who has their act together, but most of the time I’m shaking my head going, “Why, though?” Ah well. I’m just boring like that.

Mr. Buffet likes to info dump a lot of airplane facts and figures, which would absolutely be more interesting to me if I cared. There’s a whole a paragraph of a character straight up listing plane parts and parameters in dialogue. Granted, the character is trying to weasel his way into the marginally better graces of the main character by showing how much he knows about his plane, and it’s not supposed to work, but it’s a bit of a slog for a non plane person.

Who is Joe Merchant? A rock star who disappeared off the back of a cruise ship and is presumed dead. His younger? I think? sister sort of dated Frank Bama for a while, though apparently nothing was official. She pops up again because she thinks her brother might still be alive and wants Frank to help her go looking for him. She’s even willing to fund the Alaska escape plan in exchange.

Given that there’s a little heart with wings all over the book, I’m going to go out on a limb and guess their romance will rekindle. We’ll see, I guess.

On to “A Pirate Looks at Fifty”. This one is basically a stream of consciousness journal of sorts that is kind of about a trip Jimmy Buffet took for his 50th birthday but also kind of...not. It’s a solid 1/4 of the way into the book before they even leave on the trip.

Anyone want to guess three things Jimmy Buffet really likes? Planes, fishing, and the Caribbean. If you are curious about the inner workings of the mind of Jimmy Buffet and want to hear about his thoughts and recollections of a wide variety of topics, you’ll definitely enjoy this. It will also help if you are very comfortable with a non-linear narrative.

This is a good book for taking in small chunks, though, because that’s how it’s written. I am hopeful there will be a bit more about the traveling as it continues. Anecdotes are fun and all, Jimmy, but you can’t call it a trip journal without actually writing about the trip.

Until next week...

#as i read #A Pirate Looks at Fifty #Where Is Joe Merchant #Jimmy Buffet #currently reading

[sluttyten]

The way that my anxiety manifests itself by me binge writing a rant that just loops around on itself

dang I hit the tag limit and I was still going smh

tldr my boss offered me another promotion, several people have told me they think I’ll do good in it, but basically every ounce of my being is telling me not to, plus I’ve been wanting to leave my job for a while but I have a fear of disappointing the people I feel like rely on me at work. Also I don’t like where I’m at in life because I keep seeing people around me get like Jobs and Relationships and Happiness and be Real Adults and I know it doesn’t make me any less that I don’t have those things but I just feel like I’m stunted in my emotional/social development and am stagnant in life because this is not where the me of even four years ago imagined I would be

#I’ve been typing out for the last like 40 minutes this long long long thing just trying to wrap my brain around something #I’ve been offered another promotion and I don’t want it #I lowkey want to leave my job but I don’t know what I want to do next #several people I work with including one of my favorite managers and one of the other people that I work with every single day and that I #like a lot is also possibly leaving and my friend that I work with is also basically leaving #so like….. #. I’m just hearing a lot of reasons to leave #so i was typing this out just to like get my thoughts on paper so I could kinda see what I’m thinking and maybe try to work through some of #theses knots of my anxiety about what getting this promotion would mean for me #and like it’s basically all cons I can’t really see the pros #but even then once I’ve written through my whole stream of consciousness thing I’m still like I don’t know how to turn it down #and if I do turn it down then what? do I quit #quit* or do I stay stagnant where I am at this job? #like I’ve been getting tired of it but then I think I’ll feel bad if I leave because they have to find someone to replace me #but the thing is they already struggle to hire for morning shifts and I know that #but I know too that I can’t feel bad about leaving if I do #I just have to find the next thing for me #but I’ll feel so guilty and my manager will try to say all the right things to me to get me to stay and damn #I don’t know how to break up with my job #but for sure I’ll cry when I do have this face to face convo with him #like bruh texted me to offer me the promotion instead of doing this face to face initially #and when I asked if I could think about it he told me I have until Monday like fuck dude I curled myself into a stress ball and started #crying when I read that plus the compliments trying to convince me to take it he sent afterwards #like my mom says she think I can do it and my boss says that and the girl I’ll be replacing says that but why the fuck do I just feel like #an empty pit when I think of taking this position? #I tried it out like that’s what my position is right now is basically training for this and I haven’t really liked this position but I don’t #fucking know how to express that to the people in charge because I have a fear of disappointing others apparently #like I lowkey knew it but in my stream of consciousness word vomit earlier I like definitely came to that realization #also lately I’ve just really felt that I don’t like where I’m at in life #and it’s definitely got everything to do with me seeing my best friend basically moving in with her boyfriend and seeing my brother moving

[josy57]

Philosophy 101 (reprise)

Philosophy 101

I.

It's now drawing to a close, This encore, this year as an echo I will depart again shortly and this time, it will be for good So this is a curtain call A bow so low my forehead grazes these old floorboards Their wood creaking untold secrets Splintering under the weight The compounded stampede of dozens of generations Layer after layer of teenage specters Hurrying down the hallways long after the bell has rung I watch them shuffle away Knowing I’ll soon join their fading ranks

This last month will unfold as a slow ritual Counting the steps of every flight of stairs Touching each wall, each yellowish stone Following the grooves in the bark of the chestnut tree in the courtyard Letting it memorize the swirling lines on my finger tips This place and I, united in shared remembering

II.

Yesterday I came back to your class For the sake of circularity So things can conclude as they began A page folding on itself in perfect Rorschach symmetry That day, the topic was freedom Whether such a thing even exists Whether man stands above Nature He alone, capable of choice Or whether we, like every other creature Are subject to the same cruel, unchanging rules Living on a tight leash A chain of causes and effects That, try as we might, we can never escape Are we tossed about in an uncertain flight By a thousand random happenings By our own misguided decisions? Or do we suffer to a precisely set tune As sure as water's boiling point Or the orbit of celestial bodies?

I jotted down your every word In a comfortably familiar frenzy But this time around, unlike I used to at seventeen I kept my mouth shut I did not raise my hand to offer my observations To remark that the question of free will can be rephrased thus: Is life drama or tragedy? Did we get a chance and failed? Was there a way out of the maze we missed? Or do we walk, from cradle to grave, in a trench so deep We never see the sky The hedges around us shifting Giving only the illusion of diverging paths?

III.

You don't say it, but I have an inkling what side you favor And so I’m curious what you think How you make sense of my presence here How you fill in the blanks In your attempt to unravel the strings of consequences That led me right back to where you first met me Part of the answer is that I love this place That in many ways, I was born here It was where my life first became something I actually wanted to live I emerged from the mire, a soot-black mass of clay And slowly took form Like a flipbook of evolution A fish out of water, growing lungs, legs And painstakingly becoming human Learning to stand, to pile each vertebra like a game of Jenga And see the horizon

Yes, these corridors, these classrooms That's where I discovered the great loves that shaped me Language, poetry, and him Because, of course, the truth is that he had a hand in it In my second coming I returned, not searching for myself but for a ghostly closeness to him Whichever spin you’d like to put on it He was my fate, the gravitational force pulling me in

I know you would not approve You never did like him But following your logic, you cannot blame me It'd be ironic for you to throw the first stone After explaining that a pebble thinks itself free Only because it doesn't know who cast it Pathetic as it is, it was all written from the start There is no alternative version of that story In which we pass each other by without a hitch Without some part of me getting caught and torn clean off The ripping sounding like a great gust of wind I love him and it's enmeshed in everything In the grief I feel at the thought of leaving once more No one in this world knows the extent of it How long I've carried it with me, How marrow-deep it runs But this place does It knew and held both him and me Enclosed together Two chambers in the same beating heart

You'd probably laugh at all my pretty excuses You explained that every action, even the seemingly gratuitous Is only us acting out some forgotten trauma Some imprint left on an impressionable mind So early the slate was wiped clean but the mark remained You'd most likely say that this fluttering in my chest Is just me trembling in the aftershock Of something from childhood that shook a screw loose Those insane recurring thoughts, merely its rattling in my brain And you’re likely not wrong It fits neatly, doesn’t it? The girl whom no one loved Choosing a boy who won’t ever look at her Because of the familiar dynamics The safe, distant yearning Or because of the mad thought That changing his mind would shift the whole world

IV.

Still, even if it did not come down To a simple game of mechanics If it wasn't ordained or predetermined It would still mean something That you and I stand here again That I have passed my disease along I can see it Kind as you are, it permeates our clumsy exchanges As we watch each other, you peer into me Trying, through the cloudy film of today Through the tarnishing of the last ten years To catch the gaze of the stubborn, bright, smart-mouthed girl Who once sat in the front row You wade against the current, And see the past, alive, squirming silver Strikingly vivid in the murky stream of present consciousness If I could speak plainly and turn the tables on you That’s the answer I would give That’s what I would teach A lesson like a curse Those who cannot seize the day Strive to recapture the eve Groping blindly for what couldn’t be grasped Closure or justice or vengeance Those who did not live the first time around are bound to return.

@lexiklecksi  @distilled-prose

#writerscreed #inkstay #poetryportal #poeticstories #poetryriot #writtenconsiderations #starlight #brokensoulsreborn #savage-words #smittenbypoetry #poetryclub13 #twcpoetry #spilled ink #poem #poetry #art #Josy57 #13cupsofteareblog #imperialreblogs #inspireamuse #philosophy

[theimprobabledreamersworld]

I've Got You

So, I had noticed that I haven't written much Loceit recently either and I really wanted to!

This one is based off the TV show 9-1-1! Which is the show that Blue and I realised that we were both watching recently! While we were talking about some things from the show, this idea came to mind so I sat down and wrote for two hours straight- it was a lot of fun! 😊

I've gifted this story to @red-imeanblue! She's been a fantastic writing partner and wonderful friend, so this is just a little something to show my appreciation for everything 😊💛

I hope you enjoy reading this one! The story and warnings are under the line! 💜

Read on Ao3!

General writing taglist: @psychedelicships @jwillowwolf @writerwithtoomanyships @lost-in-thought-20 @red-imeanblue (If you would like to be added to the general writing taglist- let me know! 🌟)

I've Got You

Logan/Janus

Warnings: Death/murder mention (not of main characters), coping with death, weapon mention, angst, overwhelmed moments.

Logan’s leg bounced rapidly as he sat in his police car outside a familiar house. He fiddled with his LAPD badge making sure it was completely straight before working up the courage to open the door, just like he did six years ago. He never thought that he would be doing this. The case had no leads, no suspects and it was declared ‘cold’. All resources were taken away from him and the department working on the case, but Logan refused to give up on it. He needed to find out who murdered the man that he had loved, damn the consequences. His mind raced back to where this all began. He couldn’t stop the memory from completely consuming his mind.

He was a young officer at the time. Young and in love. He had grown to hate this part of the job, where he had to knock on the door and tell a loved one the horrible news about their family member. Watching them cry and collapse in front of him, begging him to tell them that it was a mistake, it was hard to do. He wanted to cry with them, but he needed to be calm and composed for their sake. Throughout his training, he was always called so many things; determined, calculated, a little-closed off… but damn good at his job. This night, this night was the ultimate test and he knew he would fail. He pulled up outside the house he had been to so many times. He had family dinners here, parties here… he had got engaged in this very house, and now… now that was gone. Logan looked at the shining gold band on his finger, and immediately felt the tears start to form in his eyes. He couldn’t do it, he insisted that he would despite everyone’s objections… how do you tell the woman that has been a mother to you, that their son… your fiancée was never coming home? He took a deep breath, felt a hand pat his shoulder in sympathy before he opened the car door slowly. The flashing lights of the car stayed on in solidarity, the red and blue colliding in front of him was oddly reassuring. Every step he took towards his second home was agony, he wanted to turn and run but he shook that thought away. Logan knew he had to do this… for her… and for Sam. His composure was intact for a brief shining moment, until he looked up at the room where Sam proposed and his resolve began to crumble instantly. The blue front door opened frantically, and his heart broke when he saw Bea’s face. The woman he wished was his mother, this women supported him at every turn. She came to his graduation from the academy despite Sam graduating the year before, she held him after rough cases and she gave him advice whenever him and Sam ever had a fight. That was never often though, they were completely besotted with each other, even if it took them so long to realise it. It was the best three years of his life, and it had been destroyed by a single gunshot.

“Bea…” His voice came out in a strangled sob, and that was the only word he could sound before he lost the small amounts of composure left.

“Logan?! Are you hurt?!” He shook his head frantically and his body wracked with sobs when Bea tried to gently lift his head to get him to look at her. When their eyes met, she knew instantly and her eyes filled with tears in shock and realisation.

“Sam? No, no, no it can’t be! He’s not…” All he could do was nod his head, he couldn’t even find the courage to say the word out loud. Bea screamed and pulled Logan in for a tight hug as both of them mourned together.

Ever since that day, he became a completely different person. He would still be described in the same way; determined and calculated, but there would be more added on now. The rumours that flew though the department said he was now; cold, unfeeling, fighting a lost cause. Those weren’t true. He still felt the emotions after every case, when talking to every witness, talking to family members but it just never showed anymore. The whole department knew about his determination to find out who killed his fiancée, but he was equally determined to keep the streets safe. He didn’t take any shit from anyone, and that’s how he rose through the ranks like he did. He was a damn good cop, but a very lonely person. The brick walls around his heart were stood strong, and it was clear that they were never going to break down again. At least that’s what he thought.

The day that he started getting calls with the LAFD, that’s when things began to change. Janus, the fire department head was a mysterious man with a dangerous and unknown past, but he understood Logan. He understood why he closed himself off, they were both fighting demons that they didn’t want their teams to know about. As they got closer and opened up to each other, they realised they could help each other.

When Janus dealt with an extremely difficult job where they fought a fire for five hours, and managed to save an entire family in the process, Logan took one look at his face and knew that he needed to find him straight away. He got another police officer to keep the people behind the tape and he ran after Janus. Logan found Janus hiding behind the fire truck gasping for breath, and without thinking he wrapped his arms around his shoulders letting him know he wasn’t alone. Logan didn’t understand why Janus took this one badly, he had just saved a family… but it turned out that a few years ago, he couldn’t save his own from a terrible fire that he unintentionally caused. They sat together just holding onto each other until Janus was okay again.

“Janus. It’s going to be alright. The images in your head are wrong. What you did today, that was real. I’m real, you’re real. Let’s work things out for real, together.”

They got closer immediately, and Logan could feel the walls around his heart starting to crack and fall down brick by brick. He remembered the nerves on their first date, they stumbled around each other until they found their feet, and agreed to meet again. They snuck off away from prying eyes during calls, stealing kisses and flirting like a couple of kids. It didn’t take too long for their co-workers and friends to notice, and although Logan thought he would mind… he couldn’t care less what people thought. It was him and Janus against the world. They fell in love, moved in together and started their lives afresh. When Logan came home to find the room covered in rose petals and Janus kneeling holding a small box in front of him, he couldn’t believe that this was happening… again. He sighed and kneeled next to Janus, and told him everything about his past in a dramatic stream of consciousness. Janus listened patiently and wiped away his tears when he cried at the memory. When he was done, Janus was still holding the ring box in front of him.

“I haven’t scared you off?” Logan asked as a genuine question.

“You were… feeling. You’ve spoken from your heart for the first time since we got together… and it’s one of the many things that I love about you. I don’t want to wait another minute. I want to take every step with you, for the rest of our lives. Marry me, Logan.” Janus smiled as Logan nodded frantically and launched himself at Janus into a hug. As the ring was put on his finger, he saw how perfectly it fitted… just like it did before. He realised that was okay, he wasn’t forgetting Sam. He was taking a different path with someone new.

Everything was perfect. They were living the perfect life and Logan had finally found the passion for his job once again, and he pursued every opportunity with determination. They watched each other’s backs when they were on calls together, and they worried for each other when they were in dangerous situations. They were just grateful when they came back home to one another at the end of every day. A gift that Logan appreciated just as much as Janus.

Today, two years later, it was the sixth anniversary of Sam’s murder when he got the phone call. They had finally found some concrete evidence for the case. He almost dropped his phone before running out of the house, not even saying goodbye to Janus. He raced to the police station and barged through the doors to find out the evidence. They had found the gun, and in turn, the guy who owned it. Logan’s heart pounded in his chest… had they finally done it? Had they caught the son of a bitch who destroyed his life? He stayed calm and searched for the last address of the gun owner. When it came up on the screen, he immediately grabbed his car keys and drove like his life depended on it. Rage filled his veins as he pulled up outside the house, but he could hear Janus’ voice in his mind telling him to calm down, getting angry wouldn’t help. He nodded before clearing his mind to shut off his feelings as he walked up to the door. As a scraggly man opened the door who thankfully matched the image he was given, his eyes widened in horror as if he recognised Logan.

“Roy Williams? You’re under arrest for murder. Move, before I make you.” He tried to run, but Logan stuck his leg out and watched him fall unceremoniously in front of him. He dragged the man to his feet before handcuffing him and throwing him into the back of the car. They drove back in silence, his hands turning white as he gripped the steering wheel tight. As he got back to the station, his commanding officer was waiting to take him in. As much as he wanted to be in that interview room, he knew he was too connected to the case. He was promised that he would be notified as soon as possible as to the conclusion of the interview. Logan sat at his desk, clicking meaninglessly though emails on his computer for what felt like hours. His commanding officer came out of the interview, Roy Williams still in handcuffs and being taken away. The look on his face said it all.

“He’s confessed. We got him.” Logan stood up and thanked him sincerely before racing off once again. He knew where he needed to go.

His mind brought him back to reality as his hand rested on the door mechanism of the car. He was as ready as he would ever be. He walked to the front door timidly, then knocked on the door and stood to attention. The door opened softly and a frail, exhausted woman looked shocked at what she saw. He had to admit, it was good to see her again, but there was a crippling sense of guilt that he hadn’t come back sooner.

“Logan?? Well, look at you!” She smiled that smile she always gave when she was proud, and it made him glad that he was coming back with good news.

“Bea… we made an arrest.” She gasped and put her hands over her mouth before rushing forward and embracing him. He hesitated for a millisecond before hugging back.

“I knew you’d never give up. Thank you.” The warmth and gratitude in her voice pierced Logan’s heart, and he let one tear roll down his cheek before letting go. He squeezed her shoulder lightly before heading back to the car. A huge weight was lifted off of his shoulders, he felt free… genuinely and completely free for the first time ever. He sighed before realising the time and he once again raced home to his husband. He ran a couple of red lights, but it was okay. He just wanted to be with the one he loved.

His keys rattled in the front door and Janus was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, there was a mix of worry, relief and happiness in his eyes. Logan walked slowly, almost in disbelief and put his keys down delicately on the table.

“Hey you, I’ve been worried! Is everything okay?” Janus asked with a raw sincerity.

“Yeah. Yeah. We… er… we made an arrest. For Sam. We got him.” He looked at the floor, feeling a catastrophic amount of emotion threatening to break free. Janus stepped forward, Logan could feel his eyes on him, and he could feel the smile radiating off of him.

“I... I can’t believe it’s finally happened.” Logan nodded. It was at that point that he knew, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. Everything he was feeling… the pain, the fear, the relief, the love. He cried out and began to collapse to the floor. Janus’ eyes widened before lunging forward and grabbing Logan in his arms. He held him as Logan gripped onto him as tight as possible.

“It’s okay. I’ve gotcha. I’ve gotcha.” Janus whispered reassuringly as Logan sobbed into Janus’ shoulder. Janus kept hold of him and guided them gently to the floor, he held him tight and refused to let go until Logan let out everything he was feeling. It was raw, painful but beautiful. Eventually, Logan stopped crying but refused to let Janus go, so he picked Logan up and they sat on the sofa and eventually fell asleep firmly wrapped in each other’s arms. They both knew that everything would be okay.

They were two halves of the same coin, they had both been to hell and back… but despite everything they were running away from, they were the best thing for each other. Logan thought about one thing as he slept, something that Janus said a long time ago.

They really were like two pieces of different puzzles that somehow fit together perfectly. They were both on completely separate paths, but were thrown onto a new one... Helping them to move on from their demons, together. For now and always.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #ts logan #ts janus #source: 911 on fox #romantic loceit #tw death mention #tw murder mention #tw weapon mention #angst #fluff #hurt and comfort #tw overwhelmed emotions #ts fanfic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #firefighter au #police au

[waynedunlaptheorgandonor]

caryl first date headcanon

i wrote a stream of consciousness caryl headcanon i was thinking about when i couldn’t sleep last night. no i did not proofread it. yes it is rambling nonsense. yes you can read it if you want: 

so i genuinely don’t know what the timeline for canon is gonna be now that we got bottle episodes, s11, and the spin-off, but just for a moment let us pretend that it happens during the bottle episodes and then we have all of s11 to watch caryl trying to figure out how to navigate a relationship with each other

cuz like, they gon fuck right away, bc things are gonna get heated, and tensions are gonna be high, and they’re gonna snap like a trip wire and fucking ravish each other, that’s without question

so the first little while of their relationship will be mostly getting intimately familiar with each other’s bodies down to every last freckle

but once they’ve simmered down some they’re gonna need to address the “oh shit, wait, how does a relationship work?” problem

cue: caryl’s first date

it’ll take place in commonwealth, and i’ve never read the comics and i know jack all about it outside of what i’ve skimmed, but we’re gonna ignore that for the sake of my fun post

i know enough about it to know that there are definitely places to have a date

daryl knows this too, tho he doesn’t rly think about it right away. at first he’s more confused and sort of standoffish about the whole place, bc he was always a forest-dweller even before the apocalypse, so seeing this new metropolis-like place after years of living like a gd pioneer is gonna throw him way off kilter

right up until he’s chillin’ with judith and she’s talking about how she’s excited to see her first concert, and they have restaurants, and things she’s only ever read about, and then out of nowhere she’ll pull out, “are you gonna take aunt carol on a date?” 

and daryl will stare at her

and she’ll be like “rosita was telling me about how father gabriel took her on a real date and how nice it was. you should do that for aunt carol” 

and daryl will stare at her

and then will hastily change the subject (she’ll see right through him, ofc, but she’ll let it slide)

but the thought will stick with him, and suddenly he’s looking at the schedule of upcoming concerts and plays and wondering if carol would care about any of it. does she like shakespeare? the most experience he would have had with shakespeare was ripping out a couple pages of his school copy of romeo and juliet to use to light some firewood

but maybe she’s into it???

eventually he’ll reach the inevitable conclusion that the only way this is going to work is if he actually asks her to go on a date with him, which should be easy, right? like, he was ball’s deep inside her last night and told her good morning by putting his face between his legs, so surely asking someone on a date is simple

it will not be simple

bc yeah, they fuck all the time, and obviously they’re head-over-heels in love with each other, they’re each other’s soulmates, yada yada, but also daryl’s extremely emotionally repressed and has the romance skills of a fifteen year old having his mom drive him and his date to his first homecoming dance, only worse bc he never even went to any school dances

but after Dwelling On It for ages he’ll finally get fed up with himself and will vow to stop being a pussy. he’ll ask her before the day’s over or he’ll shoot a bolt into his own foot, ok, no more excuses

so the whole day he’s jittery af

you’d think he’s trying to pop the question, but all he wants to do is go eat dinner with carol and then watch some people recite lines from a play written hundreds of years ago, like, what is his Deal(tm)??? 

(his deal is, ofc, that he waited so long to have her, and now every new thing feels tenuous, bc he’d rather die than lose her, and sure she knows him better than anyone, but never in this context, and plus her last dude basically bled passion and romance no matter how obnoxious, and what if she realizes just how fucking clueless he is and decides she doesn’t really want to be with a middle-aged man who still gets tongue-tied around a pretty girl?)

(but also she deserves a gd date, alright? she deserves it, and so he’s going to give it to her, even if going face-to-face with a walker horde is less intimidating)

carol notices something’s off with him right away, but she waits until after dinner, when the kids have gone to their rooms and the two of them are alone washing dishes to ask, “hey, so what the fuck?” 

and daryl will be like, k, it’s now or never

and he will 100% make a fool of himself by stumbling alllll over his words, like, “nothin’s wrong, i’m fine, everythin’s real fine, i was just wonderin’ if mb you’d wanna, y’know, i dunno, they got all these shows and shit that we ain’t had in forever and i didn’t know if mb you’d wanna go see one? and mb get some food? with me, i mean. like, together. like i’d take you there and we could do those things, like a, you know, a date. but it’s cool if not, no worries, i get it if it’s not your thing, but i just thought i’d ask, but no, you’re right, it’s stupid, forget i said anythin’, hey look at the time, well i’m beat, gonna go to sleep now, goodbye”

and carol will go, “hold up”

and she’ll take daryl by the wrist before he can flee the room (bc he definitely intends to), and pulls him close and kisses him all sweet, and she’s gotta stand on her tiptoes to do it bc she’s in a pair of knit socks and he’s got his boots on so there’s more of a height difference than usual, and after she’s successfully managed to keep daryl from falling straight into a panic spiral, she’ll whisper, “i’d love to, let’s go this weekend”

and then she’ll just turn back to doing dishes without another word on the matter 

(bc, as previously stated, she knows daryl better than anyone, and she knows exactly what all his insecurities are and how much it must have taken him to ask her that, and so she’s not gonna harp on it or tease him)

(daryl recognizes this and loves her desperately for it)

the actual date is way easier than daryl expected

bc he spent all this time hyping it up, but when it comes right down to it, he just gets to spend a night with carol where they don’t have the kids to worry about, or any council business, and they just get to enjoy each other’s company

she even dressed up a little for him, which was unnecessary, but he most certainly appreciates it and can’t wait to tear the outfit off of her later

(it does make him regret the fact that he’s only had one pair of pants for the past ten years, but she doesn’t seem to mind)

they end up seeing a shakespeare play

daryl understands like 2% at best, but carol holds his hand and rests her head on his shoulder the whole time, and apparently it’s a comedy bc she laughs a lot, and that alone makes it worth it

they fuck like crazy when they get home, obviously

but it’s different than it had been previously, bc now their “togetherness” seems more solidified

like, they’re officially a “couple” now

like the type of couple that gets a babysitter for the night so they can go to the apocalyptic version of dinner and a movie together and then have sex and then fall asleep right afterwards bc they’re domestic af

and like, deep down both of them knows that this isn’t the life that they’re meant to live in forever, a la commonwealth/domestic bliss, and he wasn’t kidding when he told her new mexico was still out there, and he can feel a shift coming sooner rather than later

but he also knows they’ll be together when it happens, and they’ll figure out their own version of “date night” when they’re out exploring

but for now he’s content to do it the old fashioned way, though

when she falls asleep on his chest that night he rubs her back and kisses the top of her head, and he’s already planning their next night out

he might pick a show with modern english, though

but it’s not required

just so long as they’re together

the end 

#this was just me writing down the words my brain was thinking #didn't reread it #p sure it's in like five different tenses #but i stand by it #early caryl relationship will be so awk and adorable #caryl #twd #dunlap tp

[themuseic]

Only Fools (Chapter 8)

(Art Credit: @clumsycopy)

Fic Summary: Sent to Boone County, West Virginia on an assignment, you find yourself engulfed your work. How could you possibly find time for anything else? Even if “anything else” includes the tall, kind, and handsome bartender from down the road?

Word Count: 2.8k

Read Chapter 7 here.

Read here on AO3.

Warnings: Fluff, obscene amounts of fluff. Alcohol mention, but no explicit consumption. 

Author’s Note: Okay, I really do think I’m back now. If that isn’t the case, apologies in advance. If it is the case, hi! I’m excited to catch up on things! Also, this chapter has references to a song that was also used by @aloneandsleepless​ in her one-shot Elvis. If you haven’t read that yet, PLEASE do. It’s so beautifully written and well worth the read. As always, thank you for reading, love you all. 

It had been the talk of the town all week. All month really. 

You knew that towns had traditions, and you had just brushed it off as such. But when you brought up the winter festival to Clyde, the sheer excitement on his face let you know that the celebration at the diner was far from just an ordinary Saturday night on the town. It was the spirit of the holidays in Boone County, the hotly anticipated to-do. “People come from all over,” Clyde explained in between mouthfuls of burnt bacon, from where he sat across from you at the trailer table. “Even come down from Charlotte, if you can believe that.”

You whistled. “Sounds like quite the party. And it’s this week?”

“Yup, on Friday,” Clyde nodded. “I’m gonna be closing the bar that night to go. I don’t think I’d get too many customers that night anyway.” He shuffled his feet along the linoleum floor. “Actually darlin’, I’ve been meaning to ask you…” Suddenly, Clyde clammed up, almost afraid to get his next words out.

“Yes, Clyde? You know you can ask me anything.” His hesitation almost made you nervous. Though he tended to be a quieter soul, rarely did words fail him when the two of you were alone. He exhaled and steeled himself for his query. “Well, I was wonderin’ if you’d like to be my date.” You stopped. You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that blanketed the trailer. Realization of what he had asked hit you all at once, and you broke into hearty guffaws. A smile so big it nearly hurt you plastered itself across your face. At that reaction, Clyde visibly relaxed, a smile dancing at the corners of his lips. 

“Clyde, we have quite literally been sleeping together for two months now.” He blushed a deep red and his lower lip pushed forward into the smallest pout. “Well, I didn’t want to assume, and I know we’re sleeping together but…” You shushed him by placing your finger onto the center of his plump lips. “Clyde, I think it’s cute. Of course I’ll be your date.” You closed the distance between you, flung your arms around his neck, and pulled him into a soft kiss. Clyde smiled against you and returned the kiss with vigor, his lips parting slightly as he pushed his face into yours. He pulled back with a smack, and his forehead came to rest on your own. A swift smack landed on your ass and you yelped. “C’mon darlin’, let’s get this cleaned up so we can go get that trail cam footage,” Clyde muttered as he squeezed you softly. 

~~~

The town was blanketed in a plush layer of crisp white snow. It lay in piles on rooftops and cars, on street corners and it lined the pathways that people swathed in layers of coats and scarves meandered down. It was everything you expected from a small town holiday, but it was far from gauche. It was crystal clear why the Logan family was so eager to attend.

With little care to watch the ground you walked on, you misstepped and yelped as your foot hit a patch of ice that threatened to slide your legs apart into a swift split. “Woah there!” Clyde jumped, hooking his arm under your armpit to keep you upright. You laughed at yourself as you held onto his thick arm to catch your footing. “Can’t seem to keep myself standing huh?” you joked, peering up at him. He chuckled, with an almost imperceptible eye roll. “You’re gonna get yourself in trouble one day from not watchin’ your surroundings, darlin’,” he tsk’ed, prompting you to stick your tongue out at him. Clyde shook his head with a small smile, and helped you right yourself. 

You stepped forward without letting go of his arm, and he squeezed your elbow into the crook of his arm to acknowledge your clutch on him. You could feel your face warm and you dropped your gaze to smile at the ground. 

~~~

The diner was warm and packed full of people. Clyde shielded you from the patrons as you pushed your way to the counter, eager to nab a winter drink to warm your insides. Once situated at the bar, he called out your order to a worker that seemed overjoyed to see Clyde. You laughed. “You know just about everyone in this town, huh Clyde?” He shrugged, passing you a steaming mug. “Comes with havin’ one of the only bars in the area,” he winked, and raised your mug to his lips.

Clyde stood behind you at the bar while you sipped your drink, acting as a human wall to halt people from trampling your feet, with his hand resting on your waist. He pointed out all the people that he knew and provided a small anecdote for each one, almost as if he was providing his own personal, albeit abbreviated, history of Boone County. You could listen to him talk forever, his honeyed words soothing to your ears over the cacophony of the diner.

“Hey gal!” you heard a voice call from across the diner, breaking you from your unwavering gaze at Clyde. You turned to see Mellie bounding towards you, Jimmy, Sylvia, and Joe close behind her. Jimmy was carrying a young blonde girl on his shoulder, and you assumed it was Clyde’s niece. Cynthia? Samantha?

“Hey lil’ Sadie!” Clyde called from over your shoulder. Sadie! That was it, you chided yourself mentally. Mellie rushed up to you and flung her arms around your neck and pulled you into a crushing hug. “Hey Mel,” you and Clyde responded in unison, your voice airy as Mellie squeezed your breath from your chest. With your head tucked onto her shoulder as you returned her embrace, you looked back to acknowledge the rest with a smile and their respective name. “And you must be Miss Sadie, huh?” you inquired as you pulled away from Mellie and turned to the young girl, who looked remarkably like her father, with her nose and ears tipped red with the cold. 

“Yes ma’am!” she crowed, her hands dug into Jimmy’s short hairs. You noticed her hands clench on his hair and she dipped her head to glance at him for just a moment, a devious smile across her face. “And are you Uncle Clyde’s girlfriend?” Clyde choked behind you, and you glanced behind yourself to look up at him. He was pale white and glaring straight at Jimmy, who was desperately trying to insist he had nothing to do with his daughter’s question, however unconvincing his protests were. 

You didn’t blame him. Two months of living together, and you and Clyde had yet to define your relationship. You didn’t really mind it. You knew that putting it off would dull the sting of your eventual departure. But how could you even begin to explain that to a child? Oh no, not his girlfriend, just the girl he sleeps with, the girl he takes out, the girl he fucks. The girl who can’t commit. That wouldn’t do. So instead, you motioned for Sadie to jump off of her father’s shoulders, bent down to her height, took her hands in your own, and said, “Well yes, I am Clyde’s girlfriend.”

The stifled gasps of Mellie and Sylvia were almost silent to your ears as you glanced back at Clyde. He was still white as a sheet, but his eyes flicked from Jimmy’s to yours, and the hint of a smile began to break through his blank expression. You straightened to your full height and turned to face him, chewing your cheek. “That is, if that’s what you want,” you whispered, searching his face for a hint of how he might feel. 

Clyde’s next words were more a soft breath than a whisper. “Yes darlin’. I’d like that very much.” You beamed, and he slunk his arm around your waist, pulling you flush to his body and into a kiss so deep your heart just about stopped in your chest. 

You melted into his touch and sighed, your hands threading through his thick hair. His family, his friends, and the strangers that surrounded you melted from your consciousness, and not even the hoots and hollers of Clyde’s family drowned out the sound of your heartbeat thumping in your chest. It was perfect. 

A small clearing of a throat reminded you that you were, in fact, in public, and you hastily broke from Clyde, opting to rest the side of your face on his chest instead. Jimmy shook his head, chuckling at the scene before him. “Congrats you two lovebirds, glad y’all finally decided to make this thing official,” he whistled, lifting Sadie up in one swift motion to set her perched back upon his shoulder. Mellie reached out to squeeze your arm tenderly. You laughed. “Took us long enough, I guess.” Clyde hummed and squeezed you tight, his cheek resting on your head. 

“Welp,” Jimmy continued. “I promised Sadie here we’d go on the Ferris Wheel so we could see the stars. Y’all care to join us?” Clyde peered down his angular nose to look at you cross-eyed and raised his eyebrows. “What’dya say?” You grinned. “We’d love to.”

~~~

It was a joy to run around the festival with the Logan clan. Acting as your personal tour guide, Sadie babbled to you about her favorite things at the fair. She grabbed your hand to pull your attention to whatever she deemed worthy of pointing out. Sadie bragged how she was the reigning champ of the ring toss, and how she wasn’t tall enough to go on the Scrambler yet, but the moment she could she was going to ride it the whole festival, which was easy to believe given her tenacity and spunk. Mellie passed you a never-ending stream of warm winter drinks - ”Spiked if you’d like,” she’d wink - and Jimmy, Sylvia, and Joe were cracking jokes nonstop. But what really made the night perfect was Clyde. 

Your sweet Clyde. He held your hand in his mitt of a hand, squeezing it randomly, pulling you in for kisses both short and sweet, and long and deep. You were sure you would get dirty looks from the festival attendants after you nearly devoured each other on the Ferris Wheel, but you really couldn’t care less. Clyde teased you and you teased him back, keeping up a line of banter that was so easy. At one point in the night, the two of you found yourselves separated from the rest of the Logan clan, cozied up by yourselves in a booth. You both warmed your hands with a cup of hot chocolate cradled in your grasp. 

“You having’ fun?” Clyde murmured into your ear, his arm slung around your shoulder. You nodded into him and tucked yourself up into the nook of his shoulder. Clyde’s arm outstretched to grasp his mug and lifted it to his lips to take a huge swig. You palmed the warm beverage in your hand, feeling the warmth radiate through your body from where you held it, and where Clyde was pressed to your side. 

You gazed up at Clyde, your hands and heart warmed and full. Clyde smiled at you, his eyes falling softly to trace the features of your face. For how often he pouted, you had yet to see one flit across his face all night. Something flashed in his eyes, and before you knew it, Clyde’s finger was dipped into the mound of whipped cream atop his beverage and he snapped it up to your face to dollop it right on the end of your nose. “Hey!” you exclaimed, pushing away from his chest just a hair as a laugh bubbled up your throat. “You’re a menace,” you laughed, as you made no move to wipe the cream from your nose. 

Clyde snickered and you swatted at his arm, pulling a yelp that feigned offense from him. “What’s that for now? You look cute as hell with a lil’ nose decoration,” he shrugged as he squeezed your shoulder and jabbed your side with the metal tines of his prosthetic. You smiled at each other, your eyes hazy with bliss. Suddenly, his profile was illuminated and you could see a bright flash out of the corner of your eye. With squinted eyes, you turned to the source. 

A beaming Sadie, clutching a disposable camera in her small hands, sat across from the two of you in the booth. It seemed that not even the squeak of the vinyl as she had climbed into the booth was enough to pull your attention from the trance you were drifting through, and you both jumped at her arrival. 

“Scared the living daylight out of me,” Clyde sighed, his hand coming up to clutch at his heart with drama. 

“Sorry Uncle Clyde, but I couldn’t help it,” she whined, “You two looked so cute and cozy!” You scrunched your nose up and wiggled the tip. “How can I be cozy with this cream stuck on me?” Clyde laughed a low chuckle from deep in his chest that made him rumble against you. He leaned in and bumped his nose with yours. When he pulled away, a dot of whipped cream was left at the very end of his nose. He grinned. 

“Oh my gosh. This is such a good shot!” Sadie squealed. “Get close! Let me take another photo!” 

Clyde’s arm tightened around you and pulled you closer into his side. You were mid laugh when the second burst of light broke across your vision and the click of a camera made it feel as though time had halted. 

You knew that your time in Boone County was temporary. But you knew you would live with that memory forever. 

~~~

The lightest flecks of white tumbled through the air, catching on the light of the street lamps and stringed bulbs that were hung throughout the parking lot that acted as the festival's main drag. Most of the attendees had begun their individual treks home or had moved into the warm haven of the diner. Large fishbowl windows gave you view into the crowded establishment through clear, unfogged stretches of glass. The cheers and merry yells of toasts and memories being made rang out over the empty courtyard, ringing free until they were absorbed by the snow. 

Instead of being pressed up against the townsfolk or against the windows as your feet stumbled across the toes of others, you and Clyde were leaned against a tree across the courtyard of the festival. You gazed skyward, watching the small flakes of snow swirl through the sky. Music lilted through the air and fell lightly on your ears. A familiar chord rang through the air and  grabbed your attention. You felt a nudge on your side. You looked up to meet Clyde’s crinkled eyes as he gazed down at you. “Want to dance darlin’?” he murmured as he trailed his fingers up and down your arm. 

“Yes please Clyde.” He beamed back at you and took your hand in his as he pushed his back off of the tree. Snow crunched underfoot as you wandered to the dance floor. It was a small area of interlocked wooden panels, slightly obscured by a thin sheet of snow. Clyde offered his hand up to you in a grandiose gesture. A small laugh bubbled up in your chest as you slipped your hand into his, and he pulled you tight to his chest and began to sway.

Clyde’s voice rumbled against your face where it was pressed against his chest as he asked, “So whatcha think, sweetheart? Think Boone County can throw a good lil’ winter party?”

You nodded immediately. “Absolutely. This is so beautiful Clyde,” you sighed with content. A voice crooned over the speakers and the lyrics rang out over the courtyard. 

“Wise men say…”

“You look so perfect, you know that?” Clyde crooned, raising his hand to brush the side of your face with the tips of his fingers.

“... only fools rush in…”

“So do you, Clyde.”

“But I can’t help…”

It was warm in his arms. Secure. You felt as if you were in another plane of existence. Tucked in his arms, you were hidden from the world. Safe. 

“Falling in love with you.”

Clyde spun sharply with you in his arms, swiftly grabbing your attention. He looked down his long lashes at you, gazing deeply into your eyes with his intense amber gaze. “Sweetheart, I…” he cleared his throat, and lifted his hand to palm the side of your face again. He ran his thumb over your cheekbone. “I just want… You don’t have to say it back. But… I want to tell you…” he sucked in a sharp breath. 

“I love you.”

Your breath halted in your chest. Your stomach swooped. No one had made such an admission to you in… well, you weren’t sure just how long. Before you had a chance to admit that you were speechless, Clyde pulled you into a mind bending kiss. You melted into him. It wouldn’t matter what you said. You were his and he was yours. The snow fell silently around you, and the two of you swayed together quietly.

~~~

Have a winter drink! Thank you to my Irish friends (love y'all!) for direction on the recipe <3 my favorite suggestion was "Coffee+Whisky, add in other shite as it pleases ya". ~~~ My lil’ take on an Irish Coffee:

As much hot coffee as you'd like. As much whisky as you'd like. Brown Sugar to taste. Fresh whipped cream to top off. (HIGHLY recommend whipping your cream. My favorite way to do it is 1 c. heavy whipping cream, 1 c. sugar, and a splash of vanilla extract, whipped to peaks. Don't overmix though, don't make sweet butter!)

Combine the coffee, whisky, and sugar. Stir, and top with whipped cream. A dash of cinnamon over top never hurt anyone either!

~~~

Taglist: @mind-p0llution @thedivinemissm @clydesducktape @finn-ray-nal-beads @ladygrey03 @desiraypark @1800-fight-me @aloneandsleepless​ @hopeamarsu​ (Comment or message me to be added or removed!)

#only fools #clyde logan x you #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan x femme reader #my writing

[olivieblake]

Let me preface this by saying I have always shipped dramione. However, I’m re-reading the Harry Potter series for the first time in years. In that time I’ve become a lot more educated on racism (and it’s many forms, etc...) Also, this is my first time reading it where I didn’t think of mudblood as some made up word for muggle born wizards, but the wizarding world equivalent of the n-word. Given all that, my feelings about the dramione ship have shifted. (1/2)

I often wrote off Draco’s violent racism as the fault of Lucius not Draco, but at what point does it become Draco’s fault. It is chicken soup for my souls when I see racist teens being denied or expelled from schools because of using the N-word or doing something equivalently racist. They probably learned it from their parents as well, but I still blame them. I don’t know what my question is. I just wanted your thoughts

I have a lot of thoughts and here they are in a stream of consciousness format

one is that I think you’re right to recognize that “mudblood” is the wizarding world’s n-word and in a lot of ways there are problems with the dramione ship that we have to be careful about. there’s a reason, for example, that I never write draco using the term “mudblood” in a romantic or sexual way (I really don’t understand why people seek that out) and also a reason I never write historically untenable situations, such as the nazi officer and auschwitz prisoner prompt someone asked for a few months ago. I do think you’re right that there’s a layer of distance we’ve taken advantage of in romanticizing the relationship; it’s hard for us to make the connection to white supremacy because the potterverse is an imaginary world—which is important for children! we feel safe within this world because our imaginations are supposed to be safe and they are children’s books. also, the decision to cast a pretty white actress named emma watson meant that for a lot of us, issues of racism seemed like very distant parallel. should we realize differently now? yes, probably, maybe. I’m still working through my feelings on this, so we’ll come back here

point two: this is the problem with so-called cancel culture, though, that you seem to be implying that at some point draco’s “racism” becomes unforgivable. but it’s not just within the dramione ship that he realizes his wrongs—canonically he shows evidence of awakening, if not actual repentance. isn’t the idea that we want people to wake up and realize they’re wrong, regardless of how long it takes? I would LOVE for donald trump to wake up tomorrow and be like oh shit I’m a racist misogynist, fuck!! that’s obviously not going to happen and it wouldn’t undo anything he did prior to that—but the whole point of dramione is to write draco’s process of 1) realization and 2) contrition. I would argue that every dramione fic (certainly every dramione fic of substance) involves him facing his prejudice and perceiving his error. does it matter that he doesn’t figure this out until his life is threatened at age 17? I mean yes, of COURSE you can blame him for his prejudice (and his prejudicial actions) whether it starts with his parents or not. 

but isn’t THE WHOLE POINT that he changes his mind? 

I mentioned in our AMERICANAH discussion that I think the author was right—the only way to “cure” racism is romantic love. “Not the kind of safe, shallow love where the objective is that both people remain comfortable. But real deep romantic love, the kind that twists you and wrings you out and makes you breathe through the nostrils of your beloved.” I think the dramione ship has this concept at the root of it: that draco falls in love with hermione and in valuing her over himself (which is what love is!), he begins to not only understand her trauma and the way he caused her pain but also begins repenting for it with his choices. this is always at the heart of it. we always want draco to feel that crushing devastation of knowing exactly what he’s done, and then we want him to be on her side, unconditionally.

is it EXTREMELY ICKIER when you think about this within the frame of a nazi loving a jewish woman or a white supremacist falling for a Black woman? YES, immensely so, I hate it and I would never write an AU for either of those scenarios. I would absolutely not touch that at all. so I think that distance I mentioned earlier is pretty crucial here, because yeah, this is a fake world with magic that doesn’t exist and “mudblood” isn’t the n-word because it isn’t preceded by centuries of slavery, imperialism, or punitive institutional bias. well, there’s obviously institutional bias once voldemort pops up and wrecks shit, but historically? it’s unclear

—which is not to excuse anything. I do think intellectually there is a line to be drawn between these comparisons, though it’s a fine one. if I could choose to unship this at this point in time... maybe I would. personally I have always been diligent about the way I address morality in my fics, but was I ever considering it in terms of racism? no, not really. would I have romanticized this relationship if it felt even remotely like a real prejudice that existed in the world? I don’t believe so, no.

ultimately... I stand by the way I have written this ship. can I stand by the ship in general? I think that’s much more questionable, and also the reason I have avoided so many dramione fics and tropes in the past. because sure, you can romanticize the bad guy for the thrill of the angst, but at a certain point there has to be a moment where we question what, exactly, we’re romanticizing. while I do think there’s an argument for making the intellectual distinction (again, these are children’s books, and also as a first gen immigrant american who was neither british, white, nor magical, I already felt extremely distant from literally everything in these books, so at 11 years old I would not have made the connection between the n-word and “mudblood”) there is also a strong argument for being more conscious of what you read. if you seek out fics where draco is the one who saves hermione, are you seeking something akin to a white savior narrative? if you like fics where draco fetishizes muggle culture, is that the same as fetishizing Black culture? or are you just normal and horny and interested in reading fantasy romance using characters you already know from a fiction series you grew up with??

in conclusion: I think, as in all things, there are gradations to the morality of what we romanticize, and being aware of what we consume and why we consume it is what’s important right now. on a broad scale, however, there are no definitive answers as to whether something is wrong or right, and I will definitely have to think about this when I approach it in the future.

#unpopular opinions #dramione #Anonymous

[lady-divine-writes]

Ineffable Holiday 2020 - “Anathema’s Solid Right Arm” (Rated PG)

Summary: Anathema takes it upon herself to bring together two customers she knows have a crush on one another ... drastically, if necessary. (1694 words)

Notes: I had started writing this for @ineffablehusbandsweek prompt coffeeshop au, but I never got it done. So I have written it for the Ineffable Holiday 2020 Day 2 prompt 'hot cocoa/cider'. Human au. Mainly fluff.

Read on AO3.

“So, Mr. Crowley,” Anathema says, eagerly setting her cocoa and her apple cider muffin on the iron bistro table out front of her shop, right by the door where she can keep track of customers going in and out, “is he here yet?”

“Who?” her reluctant companion, who’d been there first, nursing his mug of coffee while he eyed the people walking by, asks.

“Don’t play dumb with me!”

“Pfft. Who says I’m playin’?”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about. The man in the cream-colored coat who comes here every day at 2 o’clock for a cup of Earl Grey and a blueberry scone. The one you’ve been mooning over for weeks and weeks but refuse to say two words to.”

Crowley spots a gentleman who fits that exact bill weeding through the crowd. But by the time he reaches the coffee shop, it’s obviously not him, and Crowley groans. “Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me?”

“This is my shop, and you're a customer here, so I think that gives me exclusive bothering rights.”

“I liked you better when all you did was read books behind the counter and ignore the rest of us.”

“Lucky for you, you’re much more interesting than a book.”

“Lucky me,” Crowley grumbles in a put-upon voice.

Crowley isn’t exactly a friend of hers, but he is one of her best customers. He shows up every afternoon without fail at precisely 1:30 and orders the same thing each time - black coffee and the muffin of the day (which he never eats). Anathema had thought he chose her spot over other, more commercial coffee enterprises because of her homey atmosphere and signature, in-house roasted Arabica blends. Many of her customers (an older set among the locals) do. 

Turns out, he stopped by every day because of another daily customer of hers - a pleasant, older man with fluffy white-blond hair, and a positively glowing smile, the kind that can be described as lighting up a room. Anathema has watched the two of them religiously. To this day, Crowley has never once spoken to the man, and the man (Aziraphale is the name he gives when he orders) has made no move to speak to him either. And as it’s already nearing 2:15 with no sign of him, it seems today won’t be the day Crowley gets his chance. 

Which explains his sour mood.

Anathema watches Crowley pull apart his muffin with one hand while he searches the stream of pedestrians, not paying an ounce of attention to the fact that he’s decimating it, crumbs falling through the scrollwork on the tabletop and attracting birds from all around. 

Anathema feels for the man. She really does. She’s watched the evolution of him from the first day he walked into her shop: cocky, condescending, constantly criticizing everything from the smell of the place to the decor. But he’s softened considerably since Aziraphale, almost become a whole different person. 

There are some things about him that have not budged. He still dresses like a wealthy undertaker, sporting a pair of dark sunglasses whether it’s dreary out or fine. Both style choices make him the yin to Aziraphale’s yang seeing as Aziraphale only dresses in tones of lightest cream and pale, sky blue.

Anathem has become invested in whether or not these two end up together. There's no better time than the present. 

Christmas time.

Which Anathema considers the most romantic season of the year

(Stuff Valentine's!)

If Crowley isn’t brave enough to make the first move, and Aziraphale (whom she thought she caught more than once peeking surreptitiously Crowley’s way) won’t, then she needs to make this happen. 

Starting today, if possible.

But what if he found a different coffee shop to go to? 

What if he had been waiting for Crowley to say something and mistook his silence for disinterest?

How tragic would it be for these two to end up star-crossed!

Nope! Not on her watch!

She straightens up and peeks around at the customers enjoying their beverages on this blustery day, then beyond the dining patio to the holiday shoppers hopping from store to store. It’s easy to mistake many an older gentleman for the object of Crowley’s affections, but easier to spot him out the moment he arrives, threading through passersby like a salmon traveling upstream, offering everyone he meets a smile, a nod, and an, “Excuse me! I’m very sorry! I must get through!” 

“Look!" Anathema cheers. "Mr. Crowley! There he is!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Crowley says, but she sees the slightest twitch of a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he waits for Aziraphale to blow by him into the shop for his daily fare.

Except, he doesn’t. 

It doesn’t look like he’s stopping at all, hurrying through the crowd to continue down the street.

Crowley's twitchy smile withers. Anathema’s jaw drops as she stares at Aziraphale’s back while he walks on. In her peripheral, she sees Crowley’s head bow, his lips tightening into the thinnest of lines as he sinks slowly into his mug of freezing cold cider.

And that's that.

She has to do something! If she doesn’t, Crowley is going to be miserable for the remainder of the afternoon. Grumpy and alone, he'll stay out here well into supper and, in turn, will make her miserable.

She can’t have that.

But she doesn't know how to fix things. She can’t chase after the man. He has a considerable head start. Plus, with the crowd between them, she’s not sure she'll reach him before he gets away. 

She doesn’t know what on Earth possesses her. 

She grabs up the picked apart remains of Crowley’s muffin and, without another thought, hurls it with all her might. She thought she aimed low enough to tag Aziraphale’s shoulder, or brush his arm, but obviously not when she hits the poor man square on the cheek.

Anathema throws her hands over her mouth and gasps.

Crowley launches swiftly to his feet.

Aziraphale stops walking.

“What on Earth!?” Aziraphale mutters, pivoting quickly on his heel and looking over at them in surprise. But he doesn’t see Anathema at all. The second the muffin hits its mark, she says, "Good luck!" and bolts inside the shop, leaving her red-faced companion staring, mouth agape, at the man glaring back with a cheek covered in mascarpone cheese filling.

Aziraphale must recognize the culprit is Crowley because his demeanor changes. He smiles bashfully, feeling his pockets for a handkerchief, but his eyes never leave Crowley's face.

Silently, and from her hiding place just inside, Anathema cheers.

She knew it! She just knew it! 

After a few awkward seconds of searching, Aziraphale still can't seem to find it, and Crowley, realizing that this is the chance he's been waiting for, hurries to the rescue. 

On the brief saunter over, he debates the best opening line for this situation. Hello is first on the list. Hi sounds a bit too casual. Yo pops up to make a short appearance but is brutally beaten to death. What ends up coming out of Crowley's mouth, not even a contender, is, “Here,” as he thrusts a black handkerchief Aziraphale's way.

“Oh!" Aziraphale accepts it gratefully. "Thank you so much, my dear."

"Crowley," Crowley corrects, biting his tongue hard after because what did he have against this man calling him my dear? Not a single, Goddammed thing!

"Aziraphale," Aziraphale offers. "Uh … was that your muffin?”

“No! I mean, ngk … yes, it was. But someone tossed it … I suppose?” Crowley looks over at Anathema, who has the gall to spy on them through her front window, smiling like anything and making, what he can only describe as, encouraging hand motions.

“What kind was it?”

“The muffin of the day - apple cider, filled with …”

“Mascarpone cheese, yes," Aziraphale finishes with a frown. "Was it tasty, at least?”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know. Didn’t get a nibble of it.”

“Pity.” Aziraphale side-eyes Crowley as he watches him wipe the remaining cheese off his cheek. “Thank you for this,” he says, gesturing with the handkerchief. “I’ll get it cleaned for you.”

“Keep it. This way you have an extra, just in case. You never know when some rogue baker might throw a muffin at you again. Or a doughnut.”

“True. A jam-filled would ruin this coat. It’s one of my favorites, too.”

“Is it?" Crowley steps back, gives the garment a casual once over as if he doesn't have the thing memorized - every line from shoulder to hem, the position of the pockets, the lay of the lapels. "It suits you.”

“Thank you," Aziraphale says, self-consciously tugging at the seams, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles. 

The two men fall silent. Anathema, palms pressed against the glass, starts dramatically mouthing, "Do something! One of you! Do something!"

Neither of them sees her, but Aziraphale says, "Now I’m curious.”

“About what?”

“I’ve never had one of the specialty muffins. Creature of habit, I’m afraid. Always order the same thing.”

“I think she has one left if you’d like to give it a go.”

Aziraphale bites his lower lip, his cheeks turning a fetching shade of rose. “Do you think … would you mind splitting it with me? Then we can both satisfy our curiosities.”

That last part sounds like an invitation to more than sharing a muffin, and Crowley, admittedly dense to those sorts of flirtations, is determined not to let it pass him by.

“That sounds like a brilliant idea.”

Anathema beams when she sees Aziraphale and Crowley heading her way, flashing them a double thumbs-up that only Crowley catches. Crowley rolls his eyes. Aziraphale looks in time to see the top of her head drop below the sill, another unfortunate chair upturning behind her. “Is that the young lady who runs the shop?” he asks, pointing at Anathema's bun bobbing away from the window towards the counter.

“I believe it is,” Crowley says dismissively.

“Is she quite all right?”

“No.” Crowley sets the chairs right at the small table and offers one to Aziraphale. “Not in the slightest.”

#Ineffable Holiday 2020 #good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #ineffable lovers #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #Crowley

[tryalittlejoytomorrow]

20 questions, writer’s edition:

I was tagged by my favorite child @flythesail ! ;) Thank you!! ❤️

How many works do you have on AO3?

39 stories. That’s...a lot. Especially as I used to have around 20 other fics on ffnet that I never crossposted. Maybe I need to sleep more.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

528,088 words.I KNOW. I’m talkative, okay??? It’s crazy to think about the fact that almost a half of this word count is my kevison fic tho. 👀 👀

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

SO MANY FANDOMS

The 100 / Bellarke

The Hunger Games / Everlark

Star Wars / Rebelcaptain + Han/Leia

Marvel / Clintasha

Still Star-Crossed / Rosvolio

Arrow / Olicity

Marvel’s Runaways / Gertchase

Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries / Phryne x Jack

Shades of magic / Kell x Lila

Six of Crows / Kanej

This is us / Kevison

NCIS:LA / Densi (so many moons ago, all deleted)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Friends (I’ve watched us as we changed) / Bellarke modern-AU / The 100

it’s not easy for me to belong here (I’m learning) / Kanej / SoC

Girl, ya can’t conceal it / Bellarke

no remedy for love (but to love more) / Rosvolio / Still Star-Crossed

Things just don’t grow (if you don’t bless them with your patience) / Bellarke

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes! Feedback from readers is so important, so I do my best to reply to all meaningful, encouraging feedback. It shows both my appreciation, but also starts nice, interesting conversations sometimes. :)

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I think that would definitely be a Bellarke fic, I have been known to be mean in that fandom... 😛 I’d say, if we go with angstiest ending, I’ll have to pick I came here to get some peace. I have another story that’s far angstier as a whole, but the ending was more hopeful.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Mmh, I think I’ll go with Rosvolio on that one, and the series starting with no remedy for love and ending with for love is such a daily good thing. The sequel, epilogue of sorts, was almost as long as the original fic itself, and it was all about giving these two the agency they deserve in their finding each other and growing into love.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I did once, but never completed the fic. It was a Dark Matter/The 100 crossover. Though was it really one? I don’t think so. I used the main characters from the 100 in the context of Dark Matter? Anyway. As evidenced by the fact that I never did finish the thing past the first chapter - no, I don’t write crossovers.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Are there really writers who don’t? Bless your hearts. I’ve been active in writing for various fandoms since 2011 and I’ve had the usual cocktail of anon hate, death threats, insults, etc.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yep. Sex is a conversation, and writing dialogue is one of my favorite things, and they’re basically the same. Sex is a form of communication like any other - be it awkward, passionate, peaceful and quiet, a routine, a habit, a bad habit you can’t kick, sorta meh, or bad. So I guess I write all kinds of smut? Smut with feels is obviously a favorite, but it’s nice to write smut that is just about two people who can’t be apart from each other, passionate and hungry for one another.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yup - and not subtly at all. But at the time ffnet did nothing about it, and neither did the fandom. Even though people knew that this person had stolen my story and only changed the characters’ names to fit another ship, people still read it and commented it. Insert #lesigh.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I was asked, once, but I said no. This just feels weird to me.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope. My head and my writing process are messy enough as they are, they don’t need the intrusion.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

It’s like asking someone to pick a favorite child. Which everyone could do, really, we all know it. Still, it’s not proper to ask. But I’ll go with my childhood and ultimate otp, Piper and Leo from Charmed. They taught me what love was.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Mmmh, I don’t think I have one atm? I gave up on some wips back when I was writing for The 100, but I know I’ll never pick them up. My only current wip is for Kevison, and I do intend to see this through.

What are your writing strengths?

Clearly my style? I’ve been told it’s kinda poetic, and I do like my prose and my flow - a stream of consciousness, a line that’ll go straight to your heart, long sentences of uninterrupted thoughts, a window into the character’s soul. I also have a very good grasp on the characters I choose to write about - I only write when I feel like I know them like the back of my hand, so characterization and being true to who they are is my number one priority.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I have no discipline. I’ll write for days on end, get one, two, three chapters ready...and sometimes a month passes by and I have nothing, my brain is completely empty, and I feel all squeezed out. I could never wait until I’ve completed a work before posting it, for instance - and I mean, I’ve been working on my Kevison fic for 17 months now, so, in a way, lucky thing I didn’t wait, right?

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

If it fits the character and the context, why not.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter! It was a lifetime ago, I was 12 and I wrote what I expected the fifth book to be before it came out. Needless to say, it was bad.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Once again, asking someone to pick a favorite child isn’t proper. I have a sort of very unique love for something always brings me back to you, one of my rebelcaptain fics. First of all, it’s the only work who’s ever gotten a fan edit made about (thanks again to the lovely person who did!). I also think the writing is solid, the dialogue and the chemistry between Jyn and Cassian on point. And I loved working on that AU of their first meeting(s) through the galaxy.

Tagging: @queenofchildren , @lullabiesandgoodbyes , @alienor-woods and whoever else wants to do it!

#writers tag #Angèle babbles #thanks bb!

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

Something Old, Something New, of Moments Borrowed, and the Feelings for You

So, this was inspired by the additional angst/post-akuma idea you added to my second Chloe Couffaine AU idea dump about Chlobrinix. I decided to turn it into a full scene with a bit of a happier ending (sorry couldn’t resist). Hope you enjoy 😊.

“So…” Chloe’s voice hung like whisper in the cold air of the abandoned roof of the museum. The night sky was all but a blanket of clouds as the world seemed content to drown itself in silence. The only warmth lay in a few cups of warm Dupain-Cheng brewed Coffee and two bodies just barely clinging to consciousness. “Time travel huh?”

Alix let out an ugly snort as she couldn’t hold in the sheer absurdity of the statement. Taking in a deep chug of coffee she leaned back and let her eyes wander to her companion.

“I guess I’m still dealing with seeing myself.” Chloe continued. She took a slow measured sip of her own coffee. “The quantum mechanics… I can deal with those surprisingly enough. Perks of secretly being a nerd. The other me though…”

“She wasn’t all bad you know.” Alix spoke.

“Never said she was. I’m not exactly clean either. That hate, that anger, its familiar. Without an outlet it makes sense that I could wind up like that. At least she had you.”

“Yeah… She did…”

“And you had her…”

At that Alix finally broke down and the tears flowed. Chloe latched on to her and the two held each other, pulling so that the weight of the world couldn’t drag them any further. No fear of flapping wings or the vulnerable cores of their souls.

“Can… Can you tell me about her?” Chloe whispered, gently rubbing the back of Alix’s palm. 

“You saw what the akuma showed.”

“I want to hear your words. I want you to tell the story of your Chloe. She was a part of your world and she was a part of you.” Gently Chloe reached for the chain hidden just beneath Alix’s collar, a stunning gold that lead to simple heart shaped locket. “From the start you’ve been my closest friend, and what hurts most isn’t that you had a whole other life I didn’t know about, it’s that I can see the pain in your eyes and I can’t do anything about it.” She flicked open the locket and revealed the photo of the other Chloe and Alix together, with Chloe placing an over dramatic kiss on Alix’s cheek, and Alix with the brightest of smiles.

Alix couldn’t shake the sad smile that erupted from the small reminder of the captured moment, and so she began her tale. She spoke of the girl all alone in her golden tower, her heart just as locked away as she was. She spoke of the stollen moments in dinner parties, of moments with discarded masks and basking in the simple joys. She spoke of dark influences and hitting rock bottom before reaching even a shred of light. And She spoke of the long road and walking side by side as they made their way towards better tomorrows.

“You two really loved each other huh?” Chloe asked.

Alix could only nod at that, still too raw from telling the story.

“Did… did you ever think of changing things back? Getting her back…”

“At first…” Alix spoke, her voice still a bit raspy. “But I learned a long time ago that leads to worse problems.”

“Your Mom?” Chloe asked, a bit hesitant to open another wound.

Alix winced a bit, but nodded nonetheless.

“What else changed your mind?” Chloe asked, partly to move past the painful topic and partly out of her own curiosity.

Alix laughed at that, an honest laugh. She looked at Chloe like the answer was obvious, like it was written in the universal language of the universe itself.

“You did” Alix replied, enjoying the subtle shock in her companion’s face. “All I ever wanted was for you to be happy, and for all the pain you’ve lived through, I have never seen a Chloe as happy and confident in themselves than you. My Chloe suffered behind a mask. She fought her way to redemption with everything she had but she could never completely move past the scars. She was never FULLY free.” She grabbed Chloe’s hand and squeezed it tight “How could I ever say I loved her if I let her go back to that. How can I say I love you, without admiring all the ways you’ve learned to shine on your own?”

“Alix… I… I can’t just say it back…”

“I know” Alix said as she wiped away a few more tears. “One of the things that made me fall for the new you was your honesty. You don’t say anything you don’t-

“I wasn’t finished yet.” Chloe interrupted. “I can’t say those words… not yet at least.”

 “I-I’m sorry but did you just? I think I’ve had too much caffeine.” Alix scrambled to get up but was stopped when Chloe caught her and held her in place. Placing her palms on Alix’s cheeks she gently forced the shorter girl’s eyes to meet her own. “Chloe please… I can’t have hope. I’m not strong enough to have it taken away twice.”

“Alix this isn’t a trick, and I swear to you I’m not trying to just make you feel better. I can’t tell you I love you until the day I know for sure. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t anything there. You’re my best friend for a reason and I can’t imagine a world without you in it.

“What about Sabrina? I’ve seen the way you look at her. The flirting you throw at her. As much as I want you, I’m not some home wrecker. You two deserve to be happy.”

“I really do like Sabrina, that hasn’t changed. If I’m being completely honest, she’s a lot closer to those words, even if only because I’ve actually had the time to process my feelings for her. But who said that the story has to end with someone being unhappy? Who says you have to lose everything because some fuck up in the time stream said so? You told me the thing you admired most about your Chloe was that she once she truly set her mind to something she didn’t stop. Well I’m fucking Chloe ‘Ryka’ Couffaine and not even the god damned universe is going to tell me that I can’t choose how MY story goes. I… I… RRRRAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!”

Alix could only stare in shock at the honest to god roar that Chloe unleashed. A swarm of pigeons fleeing at the disruption. It took Chloe a few moments to calm down as steam practically radiated off of her form.

“Fuck. Those side effects get annoying sometimes.” Seeing the still gaping face Alix was making Chloe couldn’t resist the smirk “Right, I’m guessing your Chloe wasn’t the Dragon Holder. I’d have you meet Loong but he’s chilling with the other Kwamis tonight. Today took a lot out of more than just us.”

“Fuck! Of course you’re the dam dragon! Who else could pull off the shit you do while suited up? You have any other bombshells you want to drop on me tonight?”

“Just this. You, me, and Sabrina… the three us are a team in just about every sense of the word. We always have each other’s backs, and I like to think we all help each other be better people. Hell, we’re so used to each other I don’t think anyone else would have taken that reveal as well. The kind of trust we have in each other is why I quite frankly don’t give a fuck that you know I’m one of the ‘heroes.’ I can’t speak for Sabrina, but I have pretty good hunch she feels the same way. Plus, you can’t deny you think she’s cute as hell too.” Alix could only blush at that. “We’ve done everything else together so… who is to say we can’t take that step together too.”

“You really mean that? You want all three of us to just what? All date each other?”

“Fuck it. Why not. Not like we don’t already get some odd looks when we’re all together.”

“Shit… well… I’m willing to try if you are.”

Chloe’s smile shined bright and for a moment she could have sworn she was looking at the old chloe, an echo just out of reach offering one last moment, before snapping back to reality as she was embraced. She couldn’t help but think the hug felt even warmer than before, like some forgotten puzzle piece finally slid into place.

“Come on” Chloe said. “Let’s crash for the night. I think we have a long talk with a certain red-head planned for tomorrow.”

The stars had begun to break through of the cloudy night sky, but as far as both girls were concerned, there was something far brighter on the horizon.

———

O h f u c ckcck fuck

That was fucking amazing;; shit;

#chlolix #chlobrina #chloe bourgeois #alix kubdel #chloe couffaine au #WHAT THE FUCK DUDE #THAT WAS AMAZINF #writing #thisd make a good fic #a ton of foreshadowing #about alix #how the timeline is a little fucked #aND THEN BOOM REVEAL #thanm you so much this is amazing #ether-solrac #submission

[jeeperso]

My Fated Academia

An MHA/FSN crossover fic experiment (experiment 1 of ???)

This is it, no going back. Not even dad can stop me now.

Ours is a superhuman society, where over 80% of the population has some sort of uncanny ability, or quirk. Because of this, things like streets looks like scenes from comic books. In this era of chaos and confusion, a new profession dominated our collective consciousness. It is a age of heroes.

And today, I start my journey to join their ranks.

It wasn't easy. Ever since I knew this was what I wanted, Dad's been dead set against it. But, since Big Sis is always proving it's better to ask forgiveness than seeking permission with him, I decided to try things her way for once. I applied in secret to UA, the single most prestigious Hero Academy here in Japan, and probably the world, and while dad thinks I'm helping Big Sis at her place for the day, I've snuck here to UA and already taken the written portion of the entrance exam. I'm pretty sure I did all right, unlike that green haired boy a row back. After the exam proctor, Present Mic (wait, like the radio DJ? Questions for later) told us what to expect on the practical, all he could do was quietly mumble to himself.

But then, A lot of us were like that. I don't think anybody expected to be fighting killer robots in a free for all. Poor guy probably has a quirk better suited to rescue work, like detecting body heat or telepathy.

"Hey, I know you" someone says, snapping me from thinking about that, and I look in her direction, and into big black and gold eyes, skin pink as bubblegum and a smile probably bright enough to guide ships in storms.

"No you don't," I retort, trying to back up, but we're all on a bus to our assigned test area, two to a seat, and so I just back up on the window.

"Yeah I do," she beams, "You work at the café I go to. Seriously, those crepes are the best, girl. and you totally rocked the maid cosplay last month."

"that was Big Sis's idea," I say quickly out of how embarrassing that stunt was, "well, she's more like my aunt, but don't say that around her."

"Oh I like you. come to think of it, I've only seen you at the café."

"Home-schooled," I tell her, and mercifully, the bus stops to let us out.

"Good luck out there," she says.

"You too," I respond, "and sorry about that."

She waves it off, but its the truth. However bubbly she is, She's here for the same reason I am, to be a hero, and she deserves respect and honor for her decision. All of us to as we finally assemble outside a gate marked Battle Center A. I barely have time to register the giant doors ahead of us, and the dismissive grunt of it by a blonde boy ahead of us, when they crack open, and Present Mic shouts that the exam's begun...

"DIE!"

And the blonde's battle cry almost drowns out the explosion that launches him into the mock city well ahead of the rest of us. Most of us are running in a second later, while those whose Quirks grant movement find their own ways. I'd like to count myself among the latter, but I couldn't exactly train my Quirk without tipping off Dad.

But limited to my own two feet, I make good time, leading from the front, what I have trained for so instinctive that I don't even register its activity until I've cut my second robot in half, all thanks to Big Sis' Kendo lessons. the pink girl from earlier gives me a cheer as she literally skates by on a glistening trail, and I return her salute when she throws what must be a stream of acid at one of her targets. In the distance, we hear more explosions. DIE!-Boy's streak is so good, some of us may be failing anyway with so few foes left for us. A fact that's clear once an explosion of ball lightning erupts from within a cluster of them. they collapse to reveal another blonde boy who flashes a double thumbs up of almost idiotic confidence

And that's when the earth shakes.

Even in a world of quirks and the superheroes that use them, the sight is almost impossible to comprehend as the final robot appears, so bulky that it seems as if one of the largest buildings about us has decided to take a walk, casually pushing its fellow towers aside like merely heavy curtains instead of countless tonnes of concrete.

Present Mic had warned us of this colossus, that for all its power and menace, its worth is zero points. A mere obstacle and waste of time, even if any of us had the power to fight it. Even Die-Boy must know this, for his explosions don't go off in its direction, and so many of us run.

But I don't. A hero does not abandon the field while the enemy is before them. If the others flee, then it is my duty to cover their retreat. I take a step forward, and a niggling thought pops in. not a memory, not even a dream, just a momentary sense that this is familiar, as if I'd faced a foe like this before, and I take both comfort and confidence.

Another step, and I see that even without that thought, I would do this anyway. the electric boy's smile is not mere confidence, but one of pure idiocy, still smiling, still flashing a double thumbs up, while his eyes are wide in hapless terror, just enough mind left to know he's in the monster's path.

I want to call out, tell Pinky to grab our brother-in-arms, but she's already halfway there, and still not enough time, even as it seems to grind to a halt on my third step. Like I said, I've not trained my quirk much, but I know what it can do, that it as if I could grab hold of the wind itself and use it as a weapon, and with some effort, even hurl blasts of it like in those old animes dad likes so much. but now, in this moment, in the space of time between eyeblinks, that explanation falls short, as I feel a weight in my hands so familiar and right, the faintly blue-white air between my grasping hands becoming shining gold, and I feel a wholeness I never knew I was lacking until now.

and the moment passes, the eye finishes blinking, and there is no golden light. I see Pinky grab the boy, register the gaping hole through the now collapsing robot, and Present Mic, now definitely the guy on the radio, shouting that we're out of time.

We've done it. we saved the day in the nick of time. Pass or fail, in this moment, I take comfort that I finally know what it means to be a hero.

Seiba Emiya. Hero. Has a nice ring to it, I think to myself as I feel my strength abandon me. as my body topples over I pass into welcoming darkness, at least until the familiar nightmare...

#fanfic #Saber #fate stay night #mina ashido #My Hero Academia

[milanosbitch]

rec list for endhawks gems

as usual during this quarantine, i went through a challenging quest, searched through every single fic on ao3 about a single ship and made a rec list, ended up with around 25 works out of 630. nearly all of them should be free of explicit, problematic and triggering content besides one or two in the mature content sense. and i’ll note those down separately but i always suggest reading the tags before starting a fic regardless the rating, just so you know what you’re diving into. furthermore, there’s this author note at the end of a fic that i’ve found which pretty much sums up my feelings about a mess that’s called todoroki friggin’ enji:

“ I love Hawks and Endeavor together. They're a great dynamic, whether it's platonic or not. I'm a pretty open guy when it comes to shipping, and me and a certain lilviathan love going back and forth with dumb ideas about them.

And that's kind of where the contradictory feelings for the Flaming Garbage Man that is Endeavor kind of come from? Because I really do think he's a very interesting and well-developed character, but I also have a very strong urge to stab him at any given time.

I want to make his life miserable and hurt him, but I also want someone to sit him down and tell him that while he owes his family an apology, they do not owe him forgiveness. I want to see him grow. I want to see him face the repercussions of his actions and move forward. ”

—by Canarianyellow on archiveofourown.org

last notes; starred ones are my personal favorites, and i'm adding to this list as i go,, so look out for updates!! you can find a better formatted version of this list here on google docs.

that being said, here are the gems i found on a yet another holy quest:

Walk Alone by adastrad*

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 3.6K

Summary: You've lost your wings, you've lost your speed, and in the crowd ahead, you've lost him too. How do you know what name to call out when you don't even know what to call yourself?

as usual, kick-starting the list with one of the first fics i’ve read about them. we have some pretty good angst related to the latest manga chapters in our hands and a fascinating second person pov here. the ‘stream of consciousness’ style of wording kicks you right in the ribs, in a good way.

&&.

It's Cold, I Don't Want To Be Lonely

by onlyatitagain

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: When in the presence of Todoroki Enji, it was easy to feel warm and overwhelmed by heat in more ways than just physical. Hawks was very aware of the fire burning in his heart that roared to life whenever he was with his childhood hero, who was now his best friend. The relationship they had was special in the way of how close they had become, Hawks trusted the number one hero with his life and could always count on him no matter the circumstance.

What would happen if he said something and ruined that trust, the friendship they had built over months of knowing each other?

You should never play with fire, unless you want to get burned.

truly a beautiful hurt/comfort fic. enji’s characterization is gentle and might feel slightly OOC, but give it a chance. there is also some pretty cheesy couple stuff at the end and that might not be your cup of tea, just a heads up.

&&.

Fallen by copper_leaf**

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 7.3K

Summary: Hawks’ attempt to infiltrate the League goes wrong.

Enji is the one he turns to.

both its part one and part two, this series can take my soul. literally 7K of sheer hurt/comfort, and a caring enji. hawks’ eyeliner is probably ruined by now. can i say this is probably the best fic i’ve read about them softness-wise? i can.

&&.

Burning Embers by copper_leaf**

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 6K

Summary: Hawks wakes up, wingless, in Enji's arms.

the continuation of the fic above, here’s more content that will make you feel all mushy. a beautiful excerpt from it:

“It’s a flicker of light in the darkness, the last ember left in the heart that still has the power to bring all else to flame.”

&&.

The Bird Who Swallowed a Star*

by angyhawks (Soll)

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 4.5K

Summary: Endeavor remembers Hawks' small hands, how they didn't burn as he danced on his palms.

How Hawks had whispered sweet nothing into his flames, words not important as his lips moved and his voice chirped.

He remember Hawks finding him, small and spent, and gifting him a feather to feed on.

Endeavor wishes a feather had been his only offer.

//in which Endeavor is a fire demon, Hawks is once again tied to the ground, and wouldn't it be nice if they could kiss?

&&.

Light by Caahs*

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 2.1K

Summary: Since he was a boy, Hawks gathered an eternal distaste for darkness, which was preserved until his most recent days. However, the blazing figure of Endeavor always came up like his warm source of light, illuminating the most obscure paths and clarifying the most difficult decisions.

&&.

Emotions Are Hard, Love Even More So...

by aurora_whitlock

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 4.4K

Summary: Hawks and Endeavour at the end of a long week. Alone. Together. Its just some cute, fluffy bullshit basically. Warm your hurt little hearts.

&&.

Cuff me to the truth of failure

by Not_A_Valid_Opinion

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 3.4K

Summary: The kid’s eyes are so wide, Hawks can see the entire silhouette of his wings in their reflection. “I want to be you.”

Shit.

“No, you don’t, kid,” he can’t help but promise, can’t stop the sadness in his eyes from flickering into view.

Hawks has dinner with Enji after a bad interview.

&&.

Look at what amounts from the jump

(and I'm never coming down) by

Not_A_Valid_Opinion

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 3K

Summary: He stares at Endeavour with something close to regret, maybe closer to suspicion, but before Endeavour can catch the look it’s gone and replaced with a pursed lip and a glance at his phone. “I’ve gotta go. See you around, Enji.”

But the burly man stops him with his name. “Watch where you’re flying,” he says gruffly, though it’s different. It’s not an order. It’s not a request.

Whatever it is, Hawks takes it as a challenge.

Endeavour is worried about Hawks. Hawks doesn't know what to do with that information.

&&.

You mesmerise me in red and gold

by Arayne

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 4.2K

Summary: Enji has never gotten to tell Hawks what's on his mind so he tries, in several ways, to make it clear how he feels.

&&.

We've got a good thing going

by lehnsherry

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: Enji is watching Shouto, so he notices the way his eyes snap to the kitchen doorway just before he hears the soft footsteps and the rustling of wings, and his heart jumps into his throat. He turns in his seat just in time to see Hawks walk in, eyes still closed and a hand scratching at his messy hair.

“Mornin’, babe, do you know where my -” Hawks breaks into a huge yawn, and then opens his sleepy eyes, and freezes in the doorway like Shouto used his power on him.

Enji’s mouth makes an involuntary sound of embarrassment, and Hawks flushes all the way down to his chest.

&&.

As He Lived by uzumae*

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 2.3K

Summary: Hawks wants to imagine that he still has a place in a world he no longer belongs to.

&&.

future hearts by rire

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: When the rest of Hawks is putting on airs, it’s his wings that give him away.

&&.

Break off a piece of your heart by kettleowl

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 890

Summary: The High-End incident, but they are actors who are too emotionally invested in their roles.

&&.

to take a fall by rire

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 2.3K

Summary: “What’s with that look, Endeavor-san?” Hawks smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I got what I wanted, didn’t I? Now I’ve got more free time than I know what to do with.”

&&.

A Thousand Flowers by adastrad*

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 440

Summary: "Let's hope the next time the cherry blossoms fall, we will all be smiling."

&&.

#fantheflames by adastrad

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 54.9K

Summary: Todoroki Shoto accidentally, on purpose, and with great regret helps make Hawks/Endeavor happen.

this is wholesome. one hundred percent cheff kiss. peak comedy with a dose of stan twitter. actually a shouto-centric fic and more like an outsider pov of slight endhawks.

&&.

This Gentle Earth by adastrad**

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 4.2K

Summary: Hawks buys a better excuse to keep visiting Musutafu, but damn it. Enji hadn't been looking to adopt.

guaranteed to melt your insides. enji ends up being a plant parent.

&&.

The Winner Takes it All by adastrad

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 25.2K

Summary: Endeavor's eye is gone. He may say his injuries are his own responsibility, but it's Hawks' fault, isn't it? He will give Enji everything he can. His top secret mission will take the rest.

slaps the roof of the fic this baby right here is a shortcut for a brain burn. with a complicated storytelling and equally complex characterizations, which results in a slow but satisfying reading if you’re looking for a detailed story!! there’s seriously so much pining that it keeps you on your tiptoes until the end of it.

&&.

Roasting the Roaster

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary:  Hawks gossips with the receptionist at Endeavor Hero Agency about what a dork the boss is, discusses Endeavor lookalike porn, and then ropes Shouto into lunch with Endeavor, whereupon Shouto just roasts his dad the whole time.

Can you roast a man who's already on fire? Apparently, yes. Yes you can.

(includes the hit single Did You Need Some Ice For That Sick Burn by Hawks, ft. Shouto Todoroki)

[Only tangentially related to the other fics in this series.]

slight crack fic for humor but it’s truly well-written. a shouto and hawks team up over endeavor was something i never deeply gave attention to yet it is gold and i need more of it. hawks writes a bop, endeavor’s whole agency thirst over the said man and everything leaves you with tears in your eyes from cackling at these dorks.

&&.

the fics listed below the cut are rated mature or

explicit by the authors, and therefore contain sexual content:

Penumbra by Nicolefrickle

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Enji wants to touch Hawks' wings. Badly.

this one is rated mature but the theme is only minorly implied so i can say it is safe to read without worrying about the rating. more like a fluff fic with hawks being a happy birb.

&&.

An Imperfect Cage by Crandberrycrush

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 55.5K

Summary: Hawks is an orphan, brought up in a charity school and thrust into the world at eighteen to work as a governor for the Todoroki family, a family that has more secrets than he can hope to unravel.

*A gothic romance based heavily on the novel Jane Eyre*

&&.

Liquid Nitrogen by surveycorpsjean

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 23.8K

Summary: Enji can't figure out why the hell Hawks keeps sleeping in his office.

the plot? the writing? the characterization? everything is perfect. i’m normally uncomfortable with this much amount of smut and debated if i should put this on the list or not, since it might consist of triggering content for some. please read all the tags beforehand starting this piece.

&&.

Palindrome by Nicolefrickle

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 7.9K

Summary: Hawks doesn't realize just how much he needs Endeavor, or why it feels like he's still racing time.

//

A character study of Hawks with flashbacks and inner thoughts, heavy on the Endhawks, heavy on the hurt

#boku no hero academia #my hero academy #endeavor #hawks #todoroki enji #is an asshole #endhawks #endhawks fic #fic reccomendations #fic rec #bnha fanfic recs #takami keigo #todoroki shouto #makes an appearence in some fics #he is so done #quarantine had me digging ao3 #bnha fanfiction #beggs' rec list

[otomefoxystar]

The One - Chapter 5

Fandom: Kissed by the Baddest Bidder

Pairing:  Eisuke X OC

Warning: mentions of kidnapping 

Genre: Angst 

Written by:  @otomefoxystar

Neither of them got much sleep that night. Eisuke woke up knowing he had to tell her that the baby could be his. He was almost certain of it. The timing was perfect. Once he was showered and dressed he went to check on Charlotte. He didn't expect to see her awake.   She was lying on her side hugging a pillow staring straight ahead with tears falling down her cheeks. He walked over to her and kneeled on the floor so his face was in her line of sight. Her eyes shifted to him and she sniffled. “ I can’t do this” She sobbed Eisuke brushed her hair out of her face. “ Yes, you can. I know you can, you are the strongest woman I know.” “ If I’m so strong why do I feel so weak?” “ Because you’ve gone through a lot recently, but you’re getting better.” Charlotte sat up and wiped her tears away. She sniffled and Eisuke's lip pulled up forming a small smile. “ Charlotte” He stood up and sat next to her on the bed as he took her hand. “ I have something that I need to tell you, so I’m just going to come out and say it.” She licked her lips and swallowed. Her heart was hammering against her chest in nervousness.

“ We slept together” “ You told me we weren’t together.” He took a deep breath and looked at her. “ We aren’t and never were. It happened once” “ Do I sleep around often?” He knitted his eyebrows together and shook his head. “ No, you’re not like that.” “ So then why?” He pressed lips together, feeling nervous about how she’d react to his explanation. “ Because I told you had to.” She looked at him in confusion not understand why she would listen to something like that. “ This isn’t the point Charlotte.” “ I think I deserve to know” She was starting to get angry and her ears began heating up. “ I’m trying to tell you that the baby inside of you is most likely mine.” “What?” “ I don’t believe you were with anyone else to my knowledge at least.” She took her hand out of his and stood up. “ You need to explain what happened because right now I am really confused!” He looked up at her as he was still sitting on the bed and took a deep breath. “All you need to know is that we slept together and now you’re pregnant that’s what we need to be worried about.” She sighed angrily “ I know that but I need to know why we slept together.” He stayed silent and she was getting frustrated “ You know what?! No, I’m not doing this not now not ever! I’m done being toyed with!” “ I’m not toying with you. I don’t want you involved any more than you already are.” “ No, I don’t want to hear it anymore” She went to the door and slipped her shoes on " Where are you going?" “ Away from you” She stormed out of his suite and into the lounge where Soryu and Baba were standing talking. She stomped out not talking to either one of them just focused on leaving. Then Eisuke came running down the stairs. “ Charlotte don’t leave!” She pressed the elevator button “ Leave me alone Eisuke” “You're still in your pajamas” “ Doesn’t matter” She stepped into the elevator and she glared at Eisuke “ Don’t follow me I want nothing to do with you” She said as the doors closed. If only she could just remember then she wouldn’t have to ask and this whole altercation could have been avoided. Why can’t she remember? She was ready for her memories to come back, She had waited long enough. Not long after she left the hotel when she passed a lightning post she was suddenly grabbed and she smelled a sweet smell and she struggled to stay conscious before succumbing and letting her consciousness slip away. She was carried into the back of a silver sedan by a blonde haired man. Eisuke was angry. Angry at himself, angry at the situation angry at Charlotte for not letting him explain. She always had a bit of a temper, at least that stayed the same. He looked back at Baba and Soryu. “ What did you do Eisuke?” Soryu asked plainly “ I didn’t do anything” he lied. How could he tell them that he had gotten her pregnant and she was so mad that he didn’t explain it properly that she ran out in her pajamas? He didn’t want to explain their whole relationship. How she was sold at the auction and how she belonged to him, and how he only used that against her if he got desperate. This time his desperation had consequences, she was pregnant and she hates him. He had to fix this. “ Find her” Baba arched an eyebrow “ But boss she said-” “ I don’t care what she said. I want you to find her and bring her back here. I don’t care if she’s screaming and kicking.” He didn’t care if she hated him for it, he had to tell her. She was right she deserved to know, even if it made her hate him more. Only if she knew how much everyone loved her. Baba had looked high and low he had even gone to her parents' house, but she had disappeared. It was unusual even if she was angry she wouldn’t just vanish. Darkness had enveloped the sky, and Baba felt defeated as if he had failed Charolette. He feared the worst, his gut told him that something was wrong. He walked back to the penthouse empty handed. “ Where is she?” Eisuke demanded “ I couldn’t find her, I looked everywhere I could think of but I couldn’t find her.” He looked down, and Mamoru came into the room. “ We need to find her! Mamoru I want you to use your detective sources and find Charolette.” Eisuke raked his hair back with his fingers. He felt on edge and was pacing in his suite. What if she had been kidnapped what if she’d been attacked again? She could lose the baby if there’s too much stress on her body. This was the first time in his life that he felt so useless there was nothing he could do except wait. He poured himself a glass of wine trying to relax, she was the only thing he could think of. He had never worried much about other people, but when it came to Charlotte he worried more than was probably normal.   He looked out the window of his suite as he took a drink of his red wine, something Charolette had enjoyed in the past. Why did everything remind him of her? He watched as the headlights of cars flashed by, wondering if she just ran away. She wouldn’t be that angry, would she? He didn’t care what it took he would find her if it ended up killing him. Soon the whole bottle of wine was gone, and Eisuke was quite inebriated. He went into her room and noticed her bed had since been made up and the floors had been vacuumed. This irritated him, he wanted it to look like it did before she left with the bed unmade, looking slept in and he wanted to see her clothes strewn across the floor, but instead they were in the laundry basket. Could someone be trying to hurt him by hurting her? All these irrational thoughts were filling his head. Nothing ever got accomplished by worrying, he needed to do something he had to get his mind off of her. He decided to walk around the hotel casino. He walked around, and soon he was seen and women started swooning over him. On a normal night he would have taken one to his room and had his way with her, but tonight it just irritated him. Charolette blinked her eyes and realized how bad her head was hurting. She put her hand to her forehead and rubbed, but then noticed the unfamiliar setting she was in. She was laying on a bed in what looked like a cabin. She got up and went for the door, but it was opened by a man with golden hair and blue eyes. He was tall, and he looked down at her. “ I’m glad you are awake Charolette, I’ve been waiting for you.” She looked at him wide eyed “ Where are we?” “ You are in my palace milady far in the woods, there is nowhere to run. There isn’t another house for miles. You are to stay here with me.” “ Why? Why did you take me?” “ Wait…I know you. You work at the hotel.” “ Smart girl. Yes, my name is Yuri, we met a little over a month ago. I’ve wanted you since then and now I can finally have you.” She grimaced “ You can’t have me.” He laughed and licked his lips seductively. She started backing away from him as he started in towards her. “ Please no. Stay back” As he pushed forward her back hit a wall and he grabbed her chin. “ You will be mine one way or another, but you will be mine.” He released her chin and backed away. He closed the door and locked it from the outside. She ran to the door and began banging on it and sank to the floor crying when nobody came to answer it. She put her knees up and hugged them as she sobbed. She wished she hadn’t gotten so angry with Eisuke he was just trying to tell her that the baby was his and she threw that in his face. He had been nothing but kind to her. This whole time he had been taking care of her and never once did she stop to thank him. She wished she could run back and tell him that she’s sorry that she doesn’t hate him. She wished that she was back in that hotel where she was safe and loved. She wanted to be in the company of Ota. She wished Soryu was guarding her and Mamoru was napping on the couch while Baba was making a fool of himself. She wished that Eisuke was sitting there quietly, observing everything around him. She sat there with tears streaming down her face, broken images started filling her head. She saw herself breaking something and being forced to be put up for auction. She saw herself being faced by all the guys and feeling afraid, but not more afraid than she felt right now. She saw herself laughing with Eisuke and quietly glancing his way every time he entered the room. She felt heat rise to her cheeks every time their eyes connected. She saw herself meeting Yuri and feeling so happy only to be ripped of that happiness by Eisuke’s demand of her having to sleep with him. She wasn’t unhappy though she was mad but not unhappy. She saw herself and Eisuke at the party and how he kissed her and brushed her skin with his fingertips. The feeling gave her goosebumps. She drank a lot that night, but Eisuke’s gentle kisses and feather light touches lit a fire in her belly. seeing him make love to her and her to him. They were so into each other and caught up in the moment. No wonder she got pregnant, he must have forgotten the condom. Condoms were the last thing they were thinking about, they wanted each other … needed each other. Then when it was over he held her like they were lovers. It was a blissful feeling, but then knowing it was over was painful knowing she would never feel that again she decided to get drunk at the hotel bar. Ota tried to stop her but she got mad and tried to leave and that’s when Yuri attacked her and if Ota hadn’t saved her who knows what he would have done. Now though she was alone with no Ota no nobody but herself. What will he do? How long will he keep her here? what will happen when he discovers she’s pregnant? Finally, her memories had returned but she had to be kidnapped and had no one to share it with. She knew she had to escape. He said there wasn’t a house for miles, but she didn’t care she just knew she had to get out and get back to the guys where she was safe.

Chapter One  Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four

#kissed by the baddest bidder #kbtbb #eisuke ichinomiya #kbtbb eisuke #voltage otome #L365 #voltage inc #kbtbb fanfic #kbtbb fandom

[clevercatchphrase]

2020 Year Review~

2020. Pretty unique year, don’t you think? It’s the first year since 2002 to have only two different digits in it. After 2022, this won’t happen again until 2111. Yep. Absolutely nothing more interesting than that.

Anyway! It’s time I reflect on my 2020, look back on my yearly goals and rant about things that happened to me this year. I made a post like this last year, where I went over my 2019 goals and talked about what I accomplished and what I didn’t, and it’s only fitting I do the same again this year. Read more under the cut for a random stream of consciousness ramble!

So, first things first, let’s look at my 2019 goals;

Finish paying off that last student loan

Put more stuff on my redbubble

Illustrate my own fan fics

Sew at least one stuffed animal

Make an enamel pin

Read one new book a month

Write one page a day/Complete at least one new fan fic

Learn Python or C# for the game I want to make

Finish fully scripting Ghost Switch

Boost my patreon

 Paying Off My Last Student Loan: Going down the list, I am proud to say that I FINALLY paid off all my student loans! (and not a moment too soon. The last payment I made was literally days before the first quarantine rolled out). It took me roughly 4 years on my part-time paycheck to pay off all my loans, and once I finished, I had no money to my name (literally; I had less than 1k as emergency money in case of car troubles or health issues). Heck, I’m STILL living at home as a save up for a place of my own. Finally paying off all my student loans DID activate my secret 2020 new year’s resolution, which was to adopt a cat! I did this too, literally a week later! She is the best thing that’s happened to me this entire year and I love her so much and she is the snuggliest cuddle bug I’ve ever met. I’m so happy she’s in my life now~

Put More Stuff On My Redbubble: ah ha ha ha… I thought I did this, but then I went and checked, and it turns out-! I did not. I made art I intended to go on my redbubble, but haven’t put there yet. They are all drawings of some OCs from a game I want to make, but because I haven’t progressed on making the game this year, I never got around to putting more stuff related to it on my redbubble. At the time of writing, there are 7 days left in December, so I guess I could go and put it up on my redbubble right now, but without context on where the characters are from, there wouldn’t be much point, now would there?

 Illustrate My Own Fan Fics: Another goal that I was so stoked to actually do… and then just didn’t. Gee, I wonder why I couldn’t find the energy or motivation to do it this year? Truly a conundrum. (Hey, you know what? If Ghost Switch counts as a fan fiction in a visual form, then I am doing GREAT on this goal. 2.5 years in, 1 of ~4 arcs done, and still going steady~)

 Sew At Least One Stuffed Animal: Okay, I have a valid excuse for not doing this one. I even knew which stuffed animal I wanted to make, and had the pattern drawn out and everything, but I had no money for materials because I had just paid off my student loans. And then, by the time I did have enough money again, quarantine was in full effect and I couldn’t go out to the fabric store. I’m still trying my best to stay out of public places even if the rules are laxer now, because I don’t want to catch the plague even if everyone in my goddamn city thinks and acts like the problem is over already. Even if they’re all wearing masks, even if they’re staying 6 feet apart, I still don’t want to risk it. I will stay inside until health experts give the all clear, and when that day comes, then I will buy some fleece and make a plush.

 Make An Enamel Pin: I ACTUALLY DID THIS ONE. TWICE! Halfway through quarantine, I was feeling anxious and depressed about my job and how they were planning to have me work with the public despite climbing infection rates and positive covid cases. I didn’t quit then, but in a desperate move to try and become self-sufficient, I went to madebycooper and made two enamel pins based on some butterfly dragons I drew last year. They’re on my etsy store now! I even went out of my way to open a P.O. box just to start a small business! I haven’t sold a single pin yet, and I’m actually really nervous to sell my first because I don’t trust the efficiency of the postal system thanks to the actions of the GOP that really screwed them over this year! (If you would like to see my enamel pins, click here!)

 Read One Book A Month: I did this! With dragon books I bought a couple years back! In fact, I read FOURTEEN dragon books, and still have more books for next year to read! The 14 books I read this year were:

 The Hive Queen

The Poison Jungle

Wings Of Fire Legends: Dragonslayer

Dealing With Dragons

Searching For Dragons

Calling on Dragons

Talking to Dragons

The Bronze Dragon Codex

The Brass Dragon Codex

The Black Dragon Codex

The Red Dragon Codex

The Silver Dragon Codex

Dragon Strike, and

Hatching Magic

 To be honest, I had read The Red Dragon Codex years ago when it first came out, but completely forgotten what it was about. I remembered liking it, and I knew the reading level was on the lower side, but the whole dragon codex series was pretty good! So far, the Silver dragon codex was my favorite, and black dragon codex was probably the worst! Hatching Magic was also really slow and bad and had plot points that went nowhere, but the book was written in the 80s, so I don’t know what I expected. The Dealing with Dragons series was very charming and great for the most part, save for one line in the last book that really rubbed me the wrong way, and all the Wings of Fire Books go above and beyond in this third arc. The second legends book could be a little tighter, though (sky and wren are the best duo and I want a book solely about them, but I honest to god do not care about leaf and ivy’s stories.)

 Write one Page of any story every day/ complete at least one fic: I… did this? Okay, I kinda cheated near the end of the year. I was keeping up the one page a day thing for the first four months, but then the world went to shit and my schedule and habits got disrupted and I fell off my good track record. I completed 7 out of roughly 12 one-shots I had planned for this year (my goal WAS supposed to be one short a month, but… you know how it happens) I kept trying to catch up on this goal all year, but the days kept piling up…. Until November hit. I managed to write over 250 pages for Nanowrimo, and I consider this goal a win. 365 pages of fiction in total, which averages out to about one a day~. SHUT UP IT COUNTS.

 Learn Python or C# for the game I want to make: Another goal I didn’t have the mental energy to commit to this year. Truly a mystery to where all our willpower went in 2020.

 Fully Finish Scripting Ghost Switch: still haven’t done this one yet! The Snowdin arc is completely planned, but I just haven’t gotten around to getting the other areas. I’m not worried, though. I know all the major plot points I gotta hit, it’s just weaving them together in a way that flows nice is the final task. I’m not too worried though. I don’t expect to finish the Snowdin arc for another year and a half, at the bare minimum.

 And my last goal of 2020, Boost My Patreon. I did this at the beginning of the year, but then very intentionally stopped about a third of the way through. It didn’t sit right with me to tell you guys to donate to me when suddenly EVERYONE was financially strained from layoffs or being furloughed. I told my patrons the same, and if you ever need to stop donating to me to take care of yourself first, then by all means, please do. I would feel much better knowing you’re using your money to see yourself fed and housed instead of given to me (where it is pretty much only used to buy gas for my car, honestly)

 Welp! That was all my goals for 2020! I achieved 4 out of 10 goals plus 1 secret goal! Pretty much the same ratio as last year, but now this time I can blame all my failures on the pandemic! I don’t feel so bad about myself anymore~

 ON TO 2021!

 I have 11 goals for the new year, again some rolled over from this list, and some from even older years. They are, in no particular order;

 Read 12 new books (roughly 1 book a month)

Finish the first draft of 2019’s Nanowrimo project and rewrite it

Script TDV

Finish Scripting Ghost Switch

Build A Comic Buffer

Sew 1 Stuffed Animal

Finish 1 Song Comic

Make another Enamel Pin

Finish 2 short original comics (this one counts as 2 goals)

Finish the 5 remaining one-shot fics

 Now to go into depth on each one, more for my own sake, really. I want to know exactly what I have planned for each goal this year, and sometimes just looking at a short list doesn’t capture all the smaller details.

 1)Read 12 new books. Same as last year! I The only difference is I might not be able to make it all dragon-related books. (I try my hardest not to buy from amazon anymore, but half-price-books doesn’t always have the obscure stuff I’m looking for)

 2)Finish 2019’s nanowrimo project. If you read my 2019 year reflection, you’ll notice I said I wanted to do some original writing. And I did! The story I wrote for nanowrimo back then was a story I’ve been toying with since 2017, but it was only last year I finally got pen to paper. Now, you may find it odd that the keyword says “finish”. You may think, “but isn’t that what you’re supposed to do for nanowrimo?” and to that I say, WRONG! I wrote 50k words for nanowrimo, but the draft was only about halfway complete. I was kinda discouraged about what I had written last year, because I didn’t like how it was coming out, but I did manage to get it half done. Now it’s time for me to bite the bullet and just finish the thing so I can finally revise it and make it into something I DO like. (It’s still gonna be hella long, tho. That’s what I get for trying to write an epic fantasy, I guess.)

 3)Script TDV. TDV is the abbreviation of the game I want to make. I… still need to do so much for this project OTL… In addition to getting the story solidified, I still need to draw art and game assets, and learn how to code for it, both of which are no small task. I keep having some sort of new year’s goal related to this on my list, and every year I just don’t hit this one. Will 2021 be different?

 4)Finish Scripting Ghost Switch. (Or at the very least, get the waterfall arc completely written out). I have a plan to break this down into simpler steps, by focusing on just one arc for a month or two. Every major arc has 2 to 3 parts, broken up by flashbacks, and if I can just finish one section a month, then I should have the entire thing scripted by the end of the year. It’s not a difficult pace, but seeing if I stick with it will be the real challenge, as it is will all my goals it seems.

 5)Build a Comic Buffer: I’m actually working on this one right now! Since I paid off my last loan and got a new job this year, my current Patreon goals are kind of out of date. They had all been centered around me paying off that last loan, and working towards full-time employment, but those are both completed now! So instead, I would love to get to a place where my patrons could read pages at least a week ahead, and to do that, I need to build a buffer. And since I’m working 5 full days a week now, I can’t afford to fall behind. But you can’t fall behind if you constantly stay ahead! I would like to have… a 10 to 12 page buffer. That’s roughly 3 months’ worth of pages to always have on hand in case I get swamped with work, or something. Right now I currently have a buffer of 3, which will cover me for half a January, which is better than not having anything at all, but still not the best. (ultimately, I would love to have a buffer so big, I could queue them up for the whole year. Wouldn’t that be something?)

 6) Sew one stuffed animal: same as last year. ASSUMING the plague gets under control in 2021, I don’t expect to get to this goal until the summer at the earliest.

 7)Finish 1 song comic: I have 7 song comics planned. One is a gift, one possibly for wandersong, one is a collab that’s currently in the works, but I’m waiting on a friend to do their part before I can continue mine, 2 are UT related, and 2 (well, technically 3, but one is the collab) are KH related. It’s one of the UT ones that will probably get finished, if I’m being honest. It’s completely story boarded, and now I just need to ink and color it. I would like to get it done for UT’s 6th birthday, since I made a song comic on the fly for the anniversary this year, and it was fun, and I’d like to do it again! So, look forward to that next september~

 8) Make another enamel pin: I have a dolphin design I’d like to make because dolphins are cute, if not little murder machines. (need to save up some expendable income first, tho. THESE THINGS AIN’T CHEAP TO MAKE.)

 9 and 10) start and finish 2 original short comics: I’ve got some comic ideas I want to do, but I need to get them written out first. I don’t think either would be too long. Each maybe a couple “episode’s” length, if envisioned on a website like webtoons or tapas. They’d both be heavy in allegory, but not overly drawn out (hopefully)

 11)And lastly, Finish the 5 remaining one-shots I had planned for this year but never got around to. I’m going to try to write one every other month. Pure self-indulgent shipping fluff. If I finish these 5, then maybe I’ll ask other people for more prompts and ideas, which I’ve never done before. We’ll see how it goes~

 Also, Like last year, I’d like to look at everything that’s happened to me this year, though to be honest, I’m not sure how much I remember/how accurate it’ll be. God, I don’t even remember what January was like. Who was I back then? Who were we all back then? I guess I’ll start my yearly retrospective in march because, heh, god we ALL know what started happening in march.

 Firstly, I paid off my last student loan! Then a week later on March 18th, I drove half an hour out of my city to adopt a cat and I love her and it was the best day of this year for me. Spring break is just beginning this weekend, but the attendance at the zoo is shockingly low this year. Apparently, a lot of people watch the news, and they’re all taking precautions about social distancing. I wasn’t too disappointed. Fewer people at the zoo, the easier my job is for me. I was looking forward to getting some free overtime on spring break, since I’m broke after paying off that loan, and I’m a cat parent now and have a furry child to feed. Monday rolls around. My manager calls me and tells me that the zoo is going into lockdown until further notice. I worry for the birds I take care of, but understand it’s for everyone’s safety.

 For two months I sleep in and watch way too much YouTube. I join a couple writing discords. I have nightmares about my birds escaping their enclosure and I dreamed one of the security guards I really like at the zoo gets covid and has to go to the ER. I woke up really upset.

 I started and finished BBS for the first time. I also replayed and finished KH2 final mix for the first time. It had been about 5 years since I last played KH2 before my PS2 died, and it was like coming home~ I also finished tearaway, and played and beat Ryme for a second time (which I can’t remember if I did that last year, but it was a fun experience regardless)

 Mid-June, and I’m allowed to start going back to work, be it on reduced hours. The zoo is still closed to the public, but I’m loving it! I get to work with full-time keepers and do full-time keeper things. It’s so much fun not having to deal with the public. August starts to creep up and there’s a rumor that the zoo will be opening to the public again, which I’m not stoked about. I don’t want to go back to standing in one exhibit all day, talking to guests who don’t listen to the rules or to me. 2 of my younger coworkers (who had both only been there a couple of months) get chosen for full-time positions, while I get passed up which really pisses me off. My other 2 coworkers quit when they think we might be reopening because they cannot risk catching the virus due to at-risk family. I am now the last keeper in the interactive bird exhibit.

 I keep working, the zoo slowly opens, but with me as the only interpreter in our interactive bird exhibit, we can’t open because I can’t run the entire exhibit by myself. So my exhibit stays closed. September comes and goes, and then October starts. Now there is more serious talk of opening my exhibit before the end of the year because the zoo expects to bring in larger crowds for the Christmas lights event in November/December. I ask if I get hazard pay or health insurance since I’m doing full-time hours until they hire more staff. They say no.

 I immediately start searching for a new job feeling incredibly indignant/hurt/slighted/insulted/used/abused/ALL the negative feelings at my job. I had been there for 4 years, but never got a chance to work full time, while the two newest hires who had only been there 2 months both got moved up. I can’t help but feel they were holding one mistake I made two years ago against me and never wanted to give me a chance. (that, or they knew I was reliable when it came to showing up for work in such a volatile position that sees a lot of new faces, and they didn’t want to bother going through the process of hiring someone new) I don’t want to risk my life working around guests who don’t wash their hands and don’t properly distance. I don’t want to gamble with my health when they won’t offer me health insurance because I’m part time.

 Mid October, I get an interview for a full time job and get hired on the spot. I peace out at the zoo 2 weeks later, literally 3 days before they planned to open my exhibit to the public. It was a close call for me to escape before they opened to the public (and pettiness was only partially the reason I dipped out so close to opening). Sorry new hires who are now in charge of the bird feeding exhibit. I taught you the best I could in the short time I had. If the managers are struggling with what to do with one less person, I can’t say I feel bad. I can only hope they delayed opening/closed you down again for your own safety. You are not lightbulbs. I really hope the higher ups stop considering you as replaceable as one. Will I go back to the zoo to visit? Probably. But not for a year at least.

 I started my new job the very next day after I quit the zoo, and have been there ever since, (which isn’t that long yet, tbh. Christmas day was my 2 month anniversary). It’s full time, but it’s also a small business, and everyone’s hours this year have been on the short side due to the plague. I understand, though. They don’t want us to work if they can’t afford to pay us. Everyone is nice enough, though some people smoke and it’s hard to avoid them with how frequently we have to go in and out, and I really don’t want to get lung cancer, sorry not sorry, please and thank you. Also, with such a small team, gossip is certainly harder to go undetected, so it’s a relief knowing people don’t talk behind one another’s backs.

 I participated and beat my 4th nanowrimo in a row, I made TWO apple crisps on thanksgiving, and made baklava on Christmas and both of these recipes were my first time making them, and they both came out adequately! I voted the first day of early voting, and I did an art trade/collab with two of my friends for my birthday! (normally we would have done monthly “art days” where we get together and do art projects for fun because we’re adults and we can spend our time together however we want, but the plague said otherwise this year) We drew pokemon and it was fun! (hopefully I can show you all the results soon. At the time of writing, I’m still waiting for the last two colored parts to get back to me)

 I reached 100 pages on my undertale comic, and finish the first arc out of…! (im not sure. It’s either going to be 4 or 5, I haven’t decided yet)

 Over all, I managed to stay healthy as far as I know. I wasn’t as productive as I wanted to be this year, but then again, who was? (don’t answer that. I don’t need that kind of comparison in my life right now)

 Will 2021be any better? Honestly? I don’t think so. Not right away, at least. Just because a new year is about to start does not mean the slate is completely wiped clean. The change of the calendar year doesn’t magically make all our current problems disappear. Covid will still be here and cases will still climb when January starts. Small business will still be strained when the month rolls over, police will still go on murdering innocent civilians and getting away scot free, amazon and disney will still be monopolizing all consumer goods and media, and I can’t help but feel like there’s an impending shit show about to go down on inauguration day. I do hope things will get better, though. It’ll be arduous and unpleasant, but I do hope things will improve, because sometimes hoping is all you can do.

 Good night.

#long post #new year's resolutions #year review #year retrospective

[naivesilver]

6, 10, 17 and 20 ;^)

AAAAAH thank you my friend 💗💗💗💗💗

Meta Asks For Writers

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

Gonna be really predictable for a sec and say Lampwick. Not only because he is such the bare bones of a character that one can build off him to their heart's delight and not be afraid of contradicting the text, but also there is such an innate irreverence to him that it's almost mandatory of him to give scathing opinions about anything and anyone. Compared to say, Pinocchio, who in any universe's post-canon content I headcanon to be more guarded and more prone to sugarcoat the narrative even to himself, Lampwick demonstrates right away that he doesn't give a shit, so his stream of consciousness MUST be the stuff of legends. It's very entertaining to play around with insults and nicknames and also to rebrand past events to suit his personal view on them.

10. How would you describe your writing process?

Both extremely chaotic and terribly rigid all at once? LMAO the thing is, most story ideas spark as a single scene or cluster of scenes from my daydreams (the best ones, as I've said often, always come mid-practice session) that I feel the need to describe through specific words and let out into the world, so it could literally be ANYTHING and come out of ANYWHERE. I have been inspired by stuff ranging from my sister showering with her child to herding my teammates around a ship to bloody Spotify shuffle, and you'd never guess which ones of these ideas became angst-riddled fics and which turned into crack instead.

But as soon as I open the Word document, then I become neurotic. I have mad respect for those people who can write shit out of order, because I could NEVER. Scenes must be written from start to finish, and even editing starting from the bottom up is something I still struggle with. It breaks the creative flow or whatever, I have given up on making sense of my brain. If there's a scene I like less, then I force myself to power through it to get to the good stuff, otherwise I know I'll never write it at all.

17. Do you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations?

I'm not sure actually??? I don't really know what transpires from my work, tbh. Probably a cockier, more melodramatic person than I am in real life, which is valid considering what I write, but doesn't reflect just how anxious I am about my writing.

I think what doesn't always reach the reader is that when I write, sometimes I black out for my own good AND theirs. There are times where I know that if I try to edit a passage any further, I will begin hating the whole work and maybe elect to toss it away, so a less polished scene to me seems a small price to pay for saving an entire fic. I can always go back and fix mistakes later, but last year it took me months to get back on track after my little perfectionist crisis, and I'm not going there again, thank you very much. That's why I only ask for typo alerts at the very end of the notes every time.

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

OKAY THIS IS ONE I WAS REALLY EAGER TO RECEIVE so I have a couple different things I want to share that I hope won't sound too stupid

in my OUAT fics I always take particular care of how characters refer to each other and/or the entire matter of names. In a world where separate names address separate identities all within the same person, the way two people call one another is fundamental when it comes to expressing their personalities and relationship. Like, take Marco, for example - in the show Snow calls him Marco and he likely refers to himself as Marco, because that's who he's been for them for 28 years, but I'll never make August/Pinocchio refer to him as anything but Geppetto, because for his son he's never been anything else. Similarly, characters' feelings about their curse names are taken into account for this: so in my Thousand Problems verse (the cursed!Pinocchio AU) Pinocchio is only ever called such by everyone except Lampwick, because he has bad, triggering memories about being Giuseppe, and Leroy goes by Leroy even if his gf would rather be called Nova because in Storybrooke being Leroy means more than being Grumpy. I hope it makes sense?

this is way more niche, but there is a sort of recurring theme in all my Pinocchio-related stories regarding Pinocchio himself and leadership/kingship. Not only because in the book he has this magnetic personality that attracts both respect and betrayal and turns him into the center of every plot event, but also because the book itself begins denying the presence of a king - there's no king, to the readers' dismay, only a piece of wood. I have read so much meta about this that I WISH had been translated in English because it still makes me scream and I'd love to share it with everyone. So even if it's not always intentional, the symbolism around this juxtaposition has become sort of a background activity for me - the harvest crown scene of Two Stars is a nod to this, as is Lampwick kneeling in the AU where he survives and the Fairy's desired endgame in the fic I devoted to her. There'll be probably more in the future, but I don't want to spoil it or jinx my ability to finish it jskhfafjhjl

#ask meme #bewilderemoth #this is almost all pinocchio AGAIN #very on brand tbh

[starlightsearches]

Office Romance: Ch. 17 Predictions

General Hux and Kylo Ren have found themselves competing for the affection of a lieutenant aboard the Finalizer.

Series Warnings: Language, some violence, near-death experiences.

Masterlist

AN: Sorry this is late! I've been dealing with a lot of doubt—about my writing, this story, and general fears of disappointing people. I'm not saying this because I want any kind of validation or praise, I'm just trying to be more honest with people because I hope you all know that it's okay to feel these things, too. It's okay if you are having a hard time. Be kind to yourselves!

This is a Hux-heavy chapter, so sorry about that for all the Ren fans. He will be back soon. Warnings for general horniness and some angst, I guess? 

General Hux was beginning to understand why Irraide was a nocturnal society. The road through the capital city was a ghost town, the vendors along the side of the street shut tight, and there was no shade to be found anywhere as the two of you walked in search of your lodgings. The sun was unrepentant in its heat, beating down like it hated him in particular, and the feeling was mutual. If Hux had known that it was going to be this bad, he would have brought an umbrella.

“I think,” you said, stopping for a moment and fanning yourself with your hand,” the place we’re looking for is just up here on the right.” Your face was red and shiny with perspiration as you glared against the sun, trying to see into the distance, and Hux was sure he looked much worse. Maybe bringing you with him was a bad idea. You began moving again, determined to get out of the heat as quickly as possible.

The lobby of the hotel was cool and dark—an immediate improvement—and almost as empty as the street outside. It was a nice space, filled with low couches and metallic lanterns, none of which were lit. Hux wouldn’t have cared if it were some kind of trash-filled hovel. He was finally out of the sun. 

“Hello!” A voice called out from a desk near the door, and Hux made his approach towards the woman, who stood when you entered, flashing a forced smile. “You must be the Haws, welcome to Belarian, the crown jewel of Irraide,” she said as she shuffled through stacks of flimsi on the desk, searching for the correct documents, and handed the general a small key.

“You’ll find your lodgings on the highest floor. Lifts are down the hall and on your left. Festivities will begin tomorrow at moonrise. We hope you enjoy your stay!” She finished imparting the information and immediately sat back down, dropping the chipper persona. You looked to Hux, confusion written all over your face. She had only given you one key.

“I’m sorry but we had two rooms reserved,” you said gingerly, and the woman looked up again, annoyed.

“That’s impossible. There was only one room available when the reservation was made. You could try somewhere else.” She emphasized her disinterest by retrieving a data pad from the desk, raising it to a height that would block both of you from her view. You turned back to the general and shrugged your shoulders.

“I guess it’s fine,” you whispered, adjusting your bag and walking towards the lifts as the woman had directed. He may have been out of the sun, but General Hux was sweating once again. Now he really regretted bringing you with him; this whole situation was bound to be unprecedentedly awkward. The lift ride was quiet and short, and Hux had to stop himself from bouncing from foot to foot, full of nervous energy. You found your room without much trouble and, unable to avoid it any longer, Hux inserted the key and turned it in the lock, opening the door to the room you would be sharing.

“Huh,” you said as you entered, looking around the small space, “could be worse.” The room—like the lobby—was dark and cool, and fairly small. There was little in the way of furniture: a night stand with a lantern on it, and a small chest for clothing. Two doors sat on the other side of the room; he assumed one was for a closet and the other led to the refresher. Thick blue curtains covered what Hux guessed was a window, and matching fabric was draped over the bed. Singular. Shit.

“According to my data pad, moonrise should be happening in about seven hours, and we should probably rest,” you said, setting down your bag and finding a seat on the edge of the bed, “do you mind if I use the refresher first?” You looked up at him, apparently unphased by this turn of events, and Hux could only nod in response, his throat tight, and he waited as you walked through the door on the other end of the room, taking your bag with you before he dared to breathe again.

In an uncharacteristic display of anxiety, Hux found himself pacing across the small area of the room that was not taken up by the bed. He didn’t have many options, but he ran through each of them anyways, hoping to find a solution that wouldn’t end with him making a fool of himself. He could stay awake and let you rest. He’d gone without sleep for longer periods of time, but he couldn’t deny the exhaustion already sitting heavy on his shoulders. He had been tired before, certainly, but the heat had made it worse, and he needed to be at his best if he was going to eliminate the target as planned. He could try to find somewhere else, but it was unlikely anything would be available, and it would mean going back out into the hellish sunshine. 

He’d sleep on the floor. That would be the best option; allow him to rest without forcing any kind of discomfort on himself or on you. 

“All done,” the refresher door opened, and you walked back into the room, hair falling wet over one of the shoulders of the black shirt you had been given to sleep in. Your legs were covered as well, and probably for the best, although Hux was curious to see what other marks Ren and his Knights had left. Maybe the anger it would cause would wipe away some of his discomfort. “It’s all yours.”

Hux made his way to the refresher, trying to calm himself with some deep breathing. He shouldn’t be panicking this much. It was just a regular mission. You were just another subordinate. Except that it wasn’t. And you weren’t.

He turned on the sanisteam, leaving the water cold, and then stepped into the stream, letting it fall against his face and hoping it would wash away more than just the sweat and grime of travel. He wouldn’t think of you, sitting on the bed, stretched out over the covers, waiting for him. He wouldn’t think about that. He would think about something else. Literally anything else. Protocol droids. The plans for Starkiller Base. The exact steps he would take to assemble and disassemble his blaster rifle. None of it worked. You stayed on his mind.

After an unprecedentedly long time, Hux finally emerged from the refresher, finding you exactly as he had imagined you would look: stretched out on one side of the bed, scrolling absentmindedly through something on your data pad. You glanced at him quickly, before returning your eyes to the screen. He still couldn’t understand how none of this bothered you. Hux shuffled awkwardly to the edge of the bed and pulled a pillow off in a fist before dropping it on the ground. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, looking up at him with curious eyes. Hux did not want to explain himself, but he knew he couldn’t avoid it.

“You can take the bed, Lieutenant,” he said, and you rolled your eyes, crawling across the mattress towards him. You moved into a sitting position, folding your legs over each other and supporting your head with one fist. Apparently Hux wasn’t going to get away with his plan without some kind of pushback.

“General, there’s plenty of room for two of us here, and I don’t mind sharing,” you began, “but if that would bother you, then I should be the one to sleep on the floor. Since you’ll be doing most of the work tomorrow.” There’s a stubborn set to your brow, and Hux paused, unsure how to respond. He wasn’t going to force you onto the floor for his sake, but he also didn’t want to argue with you about the pros and cons of sharing. You could see his resolve crumbling, and you moved back to the other side of the bed, patting it with one hand. An invitation.

“If you’re sure it’s not an issue,” he said, placing the pillow back on the mattress and laying down. The bed was large enough that he could rest comfortably without touching you, or even coming close, thankfully, but he’s not willing to relax just yet. Satisfied, you lay back on top of the blanket, closing your eyes. The room was warm enough still that you could sleep above the covers, and he’s glad because there’s already an acute sense of claustrophobia sharing a space like this.

Hux knew that he should rest, but he found himself looking at you instead. You were asleep, or at least it looked like you were—your face relaxed an untroubled, one arm resting across your abdomen, rising and falling with your slow deep breaths. Hux has never been able to fall asleep that easily, but he’s not surprised that you could; you had a right to be tired after everything you’d been dealing with. Seeing you this way allowed him to relax as well, and he's lost in thought, drifting in and out of consciousness.

Why was he so afraid of this? Not just this but being with you in any capacity. It’s not like there hadn’t been other women, although that had been a very long time ago, when he was younger—and those had been transactional, business-like experiences. He had never shared a bed with someone before. 

For the first time, Hux was forced to confront his feelings for you head-on. Admiring you from afar was one thing, and working with you was another, but this, this was different. This was sacred. Hux had never been comfortable with the idea of love. It always felt . . . manipulative. Anyone who had showed any kind of care for him always wanted something from him. And now that he’s this close to something that could be love . . . what if he ruined it? What if he lost it? He had always known that it was possible that you didn’t feel the same way, but now he has to wonder what that rejection would do to him. How would he come back from it.

None of these thoughts were easy, but the discomfort was distant, blurred by the haze of sleep. These, Hux thought, were problems for another time. For now, he needed to rest. 

As much as you hated it in the beginning, you had to admit that Irraide was beautiful, once the sun had gone down. You woke up just in time to watch the it set outside the window of your room, filling you with a glittering excitement, and then you and the general were off to participate in the festivities before carrying out your plan of attack.

The night was cool on your skin, and a breeze blew by, raising goosebumps on your arms as you exited the hotel. The dress that had been provided to you was long and loose, covering your arms and legs, but the material was thin and fluttered in the wind, pushing its way up against your skin and wrapping around your legs.  All around you, the streets were filled with people, all looking as eager and excited as you felt. You and the general merged with the group, headed to the city’s main thoroughfare, where the real party was taking place.

The street was lined with lanterns that guided the way deeper into the city, and as you walked the buildings grew taller and more elaborate. You lifted your gaze skyward, staring at the structures as they reached towards the moon. The whole galaxy, all the stars in the system, were made invisible by its light, impossibly bright and bathing the everything below in a golden glow. You wanted this memory burned into your mind, and you drank in every detail, so focused that you lost your footing, stumbling over the uneven streets and knocking into the man ahead of you. You righted yourself, flashing an embarrassed look at the general, and he reached out to you, gingerly sneaking a hand around your waist.

“Don’t worry dear,” he said, “ I’ll watch where we're going.” You froze for a moment, before you remembered. You were engaged. Well, Valbry was engaged, and you were supposed to be her. Normally, you took pride in your acting abilities, but there was something about the way the general’s hand pressed into your side that made you feel too much like yourself—almost exposed somehow, and you could no longer focus on the beautiful sights around you, totally present.

Hux’s hand slipped gently away from you, and you looked up at him. He’s concerned, you could see, but you shook your head minutely, moving closer into the crook of his arm. You could do this. It was all an act. Part of a disguise, just another mission. So why was your heart racing?

You adjusted to the feeling of being Valbry, and the gentle pressure of the general’s body against yours, as you approached the center of the city. The walkway was lined with living statues, real people dripping in gold, grouped together on pedestals and depicting stories and people you had never heard of: Soz Granting the Final Wish, Kendra and Her Sword, The Attack of Gris and His Nine. Similarly painted people were moving through the crowd handing out small golden circlets to the guests.

“For you,” one said, as she approached, forcing a small golden band into your hand, “Soz honors all her daughters!” You admired the thin golden crown for a moment before placing it on your head, where it rested, surprisingly heavy.

“How do I look?” you asked, turning to the general with a flirtatious smile.

“Regal,” he responded, but you didn’t think he was acting. And the blush that spread over your face wasn’t an act either.

The festival was, in a word, dreamlike, like your feet barely touched the ground as you and the general wandered through the many streets. There were dancers, plays, street-performers and magicians everywhere you looked, each act more incredible than the last, and the food—you had never tasted anything like it. The meals on the Finalizer were fine, but now you were sure everything you ate from this point on would taste like dirt in comparison, and you sampled everything that you saw.

The night drew longer, and you began to feel the ache in your legs and your feet. Sensing your discomfort, Hux decided that you should split up, as he went in search of some fantastic smelling dessert you had seen another couple devouring, and you stayed in a little courtyard, resting your legs. It was a small area, about half the size of the hotel room you were staying in, and almost completely obscured from the main road by large, wild plants with leaves that rustled against each other despite the stillness of the air. 

You adjusted your shoes, wincing as they rubbed against the blisters you were sure had already formed, when you heard the sound of footsteps enter the small space.

“That was fast,” you said, looking up, but it was not the general in front of you. The woman who had entered stayed silent, studying you with a small frown.

“Hello child,” she said as she approached. Her skin was tan and smooth, and dotted with freckles, but despite her youthful appearance, you got the feeling that she was much older than she looked. Her form was covered completely in a dress made of thick silver fabric that shrouded her shape, but the way she moved spoke to power and strength. These details you took in with only passing interest; her eyes were certainly the most striking feature. Each was decorated with a painted design, three prongs slashed over her skin like rays of light, the left in white, and the right in black, which mirrored her actual eyes. One was entirely dark, and the other milky. You weren’t sure if she could see out of either of them.

“May I sit?” she asked, staring at you unblinking, and you nodded before you considered her possible blindness. Apparently she could see, because she joined you on the bench, resting her hands behind her and leaning back.

“Who are you?” you asked, studying her as her gaze flitted around the courtyard. You tried to decide if she was a threat, but there was something about her that defied any attempt you might make to define her. It left you stunned.

“I am a priestess,” she responded with a voice like water, “for the goddess Soz. And I am here to impart on you a wish.” The prospect sounded exciting, but you hesitated. Could you trust her? You still couldn’t say, but you leaned in. It wouldn’t hurt to stay for a little longer.

“What can I wish for?” You wanted to hear her speak again, hoping she would look at you again with those strange eyes. 

“You don’t wish for anything,” she replied, “I will give you what you need.” 

“What I need?” As far as you knew, you didn’t really need anything in the moment, except for maybe better shoes.

“What we all need,” she said, raising one eyebrow for emphasis, the white lines of face paint stretching, and for a moment, they looked like scars.

“I don’t understand.” Annoyance flared up in your mind cutting through the fog of her power; she was purposefully speaking in circles, trying to confuse you.

“I am offering you knowledge,” she said, “as a gift. No payment.”

“I think I’m alright,” you said, moving to leave the courtyard. Talk of payment made you nervous, even if she said it wasn’t necessary “I don’t believe in fortune-tellers.”

“But you believe in the force?” she asked, and you froze, every alarm system in your body screaming. How did she know? “I can sense that you do. Come sit with me, and I will tell you something. You have an important decision to make.” You had no idea what she was talking about, but now you had to know. If you left, it would certainly drive you insane.

“What decision?” you asked, and she reached for your hand. Her skin was cold against your own, so cold that you tried to pull away but her grip was strong as she stared straight ahead, as if she could see something in the distance that you could not.

“I cannot tell you that, but you will know soon enough.” Her response had you irritated all over again, and you tried to stand but she held you in place.

“Here is what I can tell you,” she said, looking at you once again, and you could see yourself reflected in both her eyes, “there are more choices than you might think. It is not always one or the other. Do not act rashly.” Her grip loosened on your fingers, left bloodless and buzzing from the strength of her hold, and you shook your hand out, trying to restore some of the feeling. When you looked up, she was already gone.

The alcove was empty once again, but there’s a strange feeling sitting with you now, like the place had been tainted—like it’s unsafe to stay there. You stood from the bench, hurrying out of the space and back into the crowded street, breathing a sigh of relief, but the fear still clung to you like a virus. The feeling dissipated a little when you see Hux approaching.

“Hello again,” you said, taking one of his arms in yours. Part of it was for the act, but you’re grateful that you were together again. You didn’t want to be alone anymore after such a strange encounter. “Any luck?” He smiled gently, shrugging.

“Couldn’t find it anywhere, but that’s probably for the best,” he said, leading you back the way you had come, “I think it’s time for us to be headed home.” You had hardly noticed before, but the sun was once again rising, glimmers of bright light streaking up through the night sky. It was time.

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