#glad she liked it??? embarrassed that i wrote dark shit that people read??? terrified she hated it and didnt want to offend???

[booksbwaybadflower]

forgot my sister read my play until I started talking about it on the phone and aaaaa!!!!! mortifying ordeal of being known!!!!!

#ive only had other writer friends read my work for feedback purposes so this is a new level tbh #glad she liked it??? embarrassed that i wrote dark shit that people read??? terrified she hated it and didnt want to offend??? #just aaaaaaaaaa #a dramatic reading by cassidy

[comradekatara]

ik this is an atla blog but... could we hear some of ur izumi headcanons? (perhaps a sprinkle of izumi x kya if ur feelin generous)

been sittin on this ask since april (sorry!!!) bc i wanted to give this question the attention it deserved (and also there are just. a lot of asks in the inbox to get thru. oof). also yess i’m glad someone else is as fascinated by the potential of kya/izumi dyke drama as i am. fwiw, all of this is canon-compliant with what we know (so far) from lok. some of these have already been said, but it never hurts to rehash deep lore...

izumi is found in a dumpster. when it becomes apparent to zuko that whoever left her there isn’t coming back for her, he decides to take her to a local orphanage. he’s halfway there by the time he has already become irrevocably attached to this quiet, curious, perfect baby and is like “okay my baby now” and takes her home.

when katara gets a postscript at the bottom of a letter from zuko that simply says “oh by the way i have a daughter now” katara doesn’t even respond to the pages upon pages he wrote about import taxes and all that boring shit. zuko merely receives one page in response and all it says is “YOU HAD SEX???? WITH A WOMAN????”

zuko refuses to tell katara the truth. her version is better.

izumi is raised by the firelord and a small army of lesbians. zuko has to stop his friends from trying to give her knives all the time. yes, knives used to be a very loving gift during the war, but he’s trying to teach her about nonviolence goddammit!!!

she never has a crisis of sexuality or feels any pressure to like boys. she’s a lesbian and she knows it. everyone but suki is secretly baffled by how well-adjusted this child is. (suki doesn’t get the big deal.)

izumi knows that she is the crown princess, and that this means that she is going to be firelord someday. zuko always told her that being firelord is about being able to use their nation’s resources to help as many people as possible, and since two of izumi’s favorite things are puzzles and helping people, she is really looking forward to being firelord.

her other favorite thing is reading, which zuko obviously encourages but also finds quite strange because he always assumed reading was an activity solely pursued by sadder, lonelier children.

because she often gets so engrossed in her books that she accidentally stays up all night reading in the dark, zuko gets in the habit of placing extra-long candles in her room that will burn all night so she doesn’t have to strain her eyes. as she gets older and starts spending more time in the library, she winds up just carrying a sack full of zuko’s candles around just in case. it quickly becomes a family joke--if you end up in a dark room, better find izumi.

she winds up wearing glasses by the age of six. zuko is very worried about what this means for her future until izumi points out that her favorite people are visually impaired and they’re doing just fine.

she really likes toph, but thinks her kids are super weird. one of them is very regimented and disciplined in a way she cannot vibe with, and the other is very self-absorbed and theatrical. whenever toph brings lin and su around the palace, izumi ends up hanging out with toph instead.

one of izumi’s favorite pastimes is sokkawatching, which is like birdwatching, but instead of birds, she is studying sokka. she shadows him around all day and takes notes on what it is he is doing. she will hide behind curtains during meetings or walk just far enough behind him that he can’t see her. eventually sokka asks izumi if she would just like to, um, hang out?? but she gets so upset that he is now onto her that zuko has to intervene and convince her that sokka has no idea what he’s talking about, and that she is a master of espionage. since her cover has been blown, she needs a new mark, and starts following mai around instead.

when izumi is eight years old, her great-uncle iroh takes her and her aunt azula to ember island to see a show. izumi has quite a mature appreciation for theater for an eight-year-old—she reads plays, as any child of her father surely would, and has been known to enjoy live performances in the capital—but she fucking hates this play. she squirms in her seat until azula would look monstrous if she didn't take her to the restroom, and there the two of them remain until the curtain call. when it's over, iroh is quite convinced that the two of them concocted that little scheme together… and he's exactly right.

izumi starts attending meetings when she is eleven, and she constantly interrupts to ask questions. if anyone is bothered by this they wouldn’t dare let zuko know. all her questions are so smart and incisive anyway that very few people can find it in them to be annoyed when they are far too busy being impressed.

some monarchs might have felt a bit alarmed, and perhaps unnerved by thoughts of their own mortality, if their daughter applied herself to studying the work of running a country at as young of an age and with as much alacrity as izumi does. zuko, on the other hand, has been hating his job and showing it since 101 AG. izumi suspects the duties of the firelord aren't nearly as bad as all that, but her father is sensitive, and was forced into the role at a particularly difficult time. for her, studying how to run the country that her father has so carefully reformed so that she can step into the role as early as possible is a generous gift.

because izumi is the crown princess, there is little chance of her making it to adulthood without navigating a few awkward encounters with boys who hope to woo her. zuko is too saddened by the idea to know how to begin to prepare her for it. but as it turns out, izumi doesn’t need that from him. starting around the age of 12, she observes that many of the staff around the palace tend to read a lot of old-fashioned romance novels. seeking to better understand the entertainment choices of the women with whom she spends most of her time, izumi selects a handful of books from that genre to read for herself. she finds story after story about young, attractive members of the royal court finding love with unlikely suitors and suitresses. though these books aren’t to her taste at all, she understands the appeal and makes the logical connection that this type of story is viewed as a sort of script—the most sensational path a princess could possibly take. she practices saying variations of "no thank you" in her bedroom mirror until she settles on a polite enough tone that even the most earnest suitor couldn't possibly take issue with it, and that's that.

izumi starts demanding more homework. this ultimately means more work for sokka, who has to create an entirely new curriculum designed just for her, and then has to sit there while she does her homework in case she has any questions. and then, once she’s done, they go over it together and even if she gets everything right she forces him to point out areas in which she could have improved. suddenly sokka longs for the days that katara (and later toph) would yell at him that math is stupid and they shouldn’t have to learn it because they can bend. how foolish he had been at the time… he should have savored that…

izumi's first crush is on mai. it's humiliating, since she's well aware that mai has been playing with her since she was in diapers (and even faintly aware that mai and zuko had some sort of ambiguous summer fling as teenagers that they are now too embarrassed to talk about), but for a short stretch of time between the age of twelve and thirteen, suddenly izumi sees her old family friend in a new and magical light. and during that same stretch of time, she faintly hates ty lee. this confusing intrusion of unwanted feelings leads to a humiliating moment that is best described as izumi's first tantrum. when she is invited to join the adults at a casual dinner, izumi dashes for the seat as far from her object of her affections as possible, and when ty lee teases, "what? do we smell?" izumi blushes and buries her face in her water. she doesn't look up from her plate until mai asks her (repeatedly, as it seems izumi didn't hear her) to pass the dumplings. at this point, izumi doesn't know what else to do but to shove the entire remaining portion of dumplings into her mouth all at once and then flee the room. so she does.

in the morning, she is mortified and apologizes to everyone for her poor conduct. mai and ty lee are nothing but understanding, and mai jokes that now she knows where zuko got his table manners. ty lee adds that izumi was going to have to do something immature at some point, or else no one was gonna believe she was human. the two of them leave court a few days later, and by the time they visit again a few months after that, izumi is relieved to find that her crush has faded away.  

the first time izumi meets katara, she feels as if she is meeting a celebrity. since katara never comes to the fire nation if she can help it, their paths have yet to cross, but izumi has heard of her, as if she is this mythic creature, through many, many stories, each more outrageous than the last. izumi does not think that meeting katara will prove a particularly long encounter, since katara couldn’t possibly have the time of day for her. she is quickly proven wrong, since katara cooks her dinner herself and keeps piling more and more food onto her plate. izumi is too well-mannered to inform katara that she is full, and katara keeps insisting that she doesn’t eat enough. izumi has no idea how katara could possibly come to that conclusion, since they have known each other all of one hour, but according to katara, izumi must eat more.

other than trying to feed izumi every three seconds, katara is surprisingly normal. izumi had assumed she was some sort of terrifying goddess by the way people talk about her. she’s very warm and nurturing and personable and has no filter whatsoever. in fire nation meetings, everyone speaks formally as a sign of respect, but in the southern water tribe, apparently it’s considered rude if you’re not completely candid. at first, izumi is horrified by how freely people insult each other, but then she quickly becomes delighted by the fact that bluntness is considered a virtue, and formality, passive-aggression. everyone refers to each other by first name, no title, and they’re all like one big family. people still treat katara with reverence despite this, even though she makes it pretty clear that she’s tired of being hero-worshipped.

one of the most delightful qualities that izumi admires in katara is her ability to memorize, recite, and hunt down gossip. izumi is introverted and polite and would never dream of asking brazen questions like whether haru has finally seen sense and shaved that beast on his lip or whether toph is "still getting her story straight" about where her daughters came from. (as far as izumi knows, toph has only ever told just the one, tongue-in-cheek story: she made the girls herself out of clay and she'll earthbend them back into dust if they don't behave.) but izumi is awed by katara's willingness to just ask these kinds of questions and she decides to take a lesson from this approach. being direct doesn't hurt anyone when katara does it, and it's a skill that will eventually serve izumi very well as firelord.

the south pole is also where izumi first meets kya. to kya, who is being taught two very conflicting ideas of what the fire nation represents, meeting izumi firmly solidifies her in the “the fire nation is nice and progressive” camp. that said, she also knows that her mom would disapprove if she and izumi got involved… which only makes izumi all the more enticing, naturally.  

katara teaches izumi about what she considers to be the core tenets of her culture: “communal living, versatility & resourcefulness, democracy, and looking cute on a budget.”

izumi returns to the fire nation convinced that the southern water tribe is the coolest place in the entire world (and not just literally). sokka is so incredibly proud.

and, by the second time she visits katara, izumi is far more comfortable with going penguin sledding.

izumi attempts to go through a phase of teenage rebellion when she is fifteen, but zuko puts an end to it by encouraging her. he’s like “fuck yeah be gay do crimes.” learning that her dad was once a baleful vigilante/highwayman immediately quells her desire for antics & tomfoolery.

...well. most antics, anyway. a few weeks before izumi's second visit to the south pole, kya sends izumi a letter that includes an illustration of a particular type of plant that grows in the fire nation palace garden and a request that she bring a clipping back with her next time. apart from the produce garden where they grow fresh fruit and vegetables for the palace, the palace garden is considered the domain of suki and her friends, so izumi naively enlists suki to help her to find it. suki smirks to herself as she directs izumi to the right place and helps her cut a generous clipping of it. and that's the story of how, on izumi's second visit to the south pole, kya introduces her to the joys of recreational weed: a secret hobby the two of them will indulge in together all their lives, whenever they happen to see each other.

(though this, too, becomes a little less cool and a little less sexy when, one night back in the fire nation, izumi steps out onto her balcony and sees her father, her aunt, toph, sokka, and suki all smoking weed in the courtyard below.)

by the time kya is seventeen, she has petitioned katara that she ought to go travel the world on her own, since she’s the daughter of a nomad and a swashbuckling heroine, so it’s only right. katara finally relents. kya basically just makes a round tour of all the lesbian hotspots across the globe, from visiting her favorite auntie toph, to living it up on kyoshi island, to the fire palace, with a certain princess in mind.

katara keeps insisting to kya that no, she’s not a homophobe, she just disapproves of monarchs! so as a test kya brings the most heinous girl she knows (who isn’t su, that is) over for dinner, and katara has to be extremely gracious the entire time. after she leaves she says to kya “wow....... I love her :’)”

kya and izumi share an intellectual bent, an appreciation for music, and a desire to see the world. they also share their first kiss. izumi breathlessly expresses her surprise that smart, worldly kya hasn't been there before with one of the boys or girls at the south pole, but kya waves a hand and says that no one there is cool enough for her. when kya asks why izumi hasn't kissed anyone before, izumi just quips that books don't have lips as soft as kya's.

they have a whole "together-when-we're-in-the-same-place; single-when-we're-not" thing going on for a while, but izumi really loves to write love letters, and before they know what's happened, they're monogamous and living on opposite sides of the world. oops!

they are very much in love. they are also fully aware that their relationship has an expiration date, and it is the second izumi becomes firelord. kya may be reluctant to admit it, but her mom was right: being involved with the firelord…. well it’s a bad look. she comes from a long line of anti-imperialist revolutionaries. she can’t exactly settle down with a monarch. izumi, having been raised by zuko, is about as anti-monarchy as a monarch possibly can be, so she understands completely. they both agree that their duties come first, and when they do break up, it will be amicable and mutual. their last days spent together while still technically a couple are bittersweet.

izumi’s coronation mostly involves all of zuko’s old friends taking turns squishing her cheeks (even though she is an adult, and also the firelord now) and tearfully regaling her with anecdotes from her childhood, which she remembers perfectly well because she was there. she very graciously hugs and thanks all of them for forging a path to peace, promising to make them proud. they all assure her they already are.

she and kya break up that night, by the turtleduck pond. it is a quiet, poignant goodbye.

the following week, kya immediately travels to the north pole to rebound with the most repressed lesbian she can find. she thinks it’s only fitting.

izumi has a lot more freedom as firelord than zuko ever did, in large part due to the fact that no one ever thinks to question her legitimacy. she has a very commanding presence, always giving off the vibe that she is the most intelligent person in the room (whereas, of course, zuko gives off the vibe that he is just a little boy who loves arson… well into adulthood).

izumi thinks in lists, much like sokka and her aunt azula; unlike most people she knows, her favorite historical avatar is not kyoshi or even yangchen, but szeto, but it’s for good reason. she groups like things into categories and she groups tasks into mental to-do lists which are of course completely different from the to-do lists she does need to write down. this will serve her well as she will eventually go down in history as one of the firelords with the most documentation on her life and the lives of her allies—which is of course part of the point. so of course, she's also strategic about what she doesn't write down: the sexualities of the family friends one generation above her; the quiet trade agreement between the fire nation and the water tribes that favors the water tribes just enough that it would be a whole thing if certain loud fire nation citizens got word of it; and the story of the one time she kissed lin beifong.

izumi’s personal pet project is the implementation of countless public libraries across the country, which also double as shelters. the same way that zuko had a reputation as being the firelord who really revitalized theatre, izumi has a reputation for being horny4libraries, and she’s proud of that reputation, dammit.

one day, for seemingly no reason, sokka decides that he is simply too old to be micromanaging royalty. it was cool and funny and, well, necessary when he was 16, but now he really does have better things to be doing with his time. this doesn’t stop izumi from wheedling him for diplomatic advice, because she refuses to part with such a valuable asset, so instead sokka agrees to play her in pai sho whenever she “needs it.” she always knows exactly how to solve her problem immediately after a game’s conclusion. zuko doesn’t understand how that works at all, but azula’s like “lol classic sokka.”

toph takes izumi on a life-changing field trip to go look at bugs in the woods, and all the headlines that week read variations on “NOTORIOUS EARTHBENDING ANARCHIST KIDNAPS FIRELORD, HOLDS HER HOSTAGE IN A FOREST.” neither of them are aware of the political scandal they’ve caused because they were too busy studying cool bugs.

as izumi approaches 50, she decides to treat herself to a birthday gift that becomes her pride and joy: a top-of-the-line future industries motorcycle. her father may choose to travel the world in style on druk, but izumi's tastes run more toward ground transportation (which is to say: she gets violently airsick, and seasick, too). of course, she can only really ride it anywhere if she's prepared to either travel with a motorcade or sneak out past her guards and keep her face hidden the whole time she's out. the former cramps her style and limits her speed, so she chooses the latter. she generally takes it short distances, just far to get some air, but on one memorable occasion when lin beifong is visiting ember island, she takes it all the way through the mountains and down to the beach just to see the look on that crabby old cop's face.

izumi names her son after her beloved late grunkle… mostly because it was the only way to satisfy sokka, who insisted that since, decades ago, he won a bet against zuko to someday name his grandchild, it was only fair that he get naming rights. zuko, at the time having assumed that he would never have grandchildren, was like “yeah okay whatever,” but sokka never forgot. as if he would ever pass up the opportunity to publicly embarrass the fire nation royal family! but he had to admit that iroh was a pretty good name. almost as good as Sokkaruleszukodrools, which unfortunately and unjustly got passed over.

izumi always loved aang, and found meditating with him to be really clarifying. it's only natural that his death breaks her heart. but it's in her nature to come up with a productive outlet for any emotion she feels, even grief, and that holds true in this case. she is walking through the library on air temple island when it hits her: there ought to be an "official" biography of avatar aang and his life, dictated by his friends. though her initial idea was to hire one of her many respected writer friends for the job, kya and tenzin insist that it'll only be worth anything if izumi writes it. so she does. a biography of the avatar, written by the firelord. friendships last more than one lifetime after all.

izumi is, of course, aware of the new avatar from the moment she's born. the notes she has on korra fill an entire cabinet of scrolls and notebooks (as any of her advisors knows, her choice of paper just depends on how fancy she's feeling). korra is nearly sixteen by the time she's ready to learn firebending, and izumi personally sends the ship that will pick her up and take her to the fire nation. since she has not met korra before and doesn't know her tastes, izumi makes sure the ship is fully stocked with plenty of soft, comfortable clothing in all colors and sizes, all meant to be reasonably modest while still suitable for the warm weather korra will run into on the journey. so izumi is understandably surprised when she meets the ship at the docks and finds korra in a jaggedly sewn scarlet crop top that she clearly tailored herself. korra blushes and explains that she's never experienced warm weather before and got a bit overzealous. they laugh about it, and izumi orders a whole closetload of more teenage-friendly clothing to be delivered to korra's quarters.

zuko dies peacefully, in his sleep, at an old and happy age, but that doesn’t mean his death doesn’t affect izumi. she immediately takes time off to crash at the south pole with katara and kya, and they spend the next few weeks just sitting by the fire, swapping stories about their respective adventures, and having a lovely (albeit extremely tearful) time. izumi then goes to visit toph and suki in the earth kingdom, who are both apparently chilling in different parts of the same vast swamp. they teach her about how everything in the swamp is connected, that separation and time and death are all illusions. finally, the last leg of her trip is spent on ember island, where she sits by the beach, staring at the moon’s silver reflection on the black sea, and once more feels at peace.

#4k words whew!!!! #asks #c #well mostly me but chell added lots too! thank u chell!! #izumi #zuko #kya ii #katara #sokka #toph #mai #izumixkya #izumi&zuko #izumi&katara #izumi&sokka #izumi&toph #izumi&mai #azula&izumi #iroh&izumi #korra #aang&izumi #ok ok i think thats enough tagging lol #god im sorry this took me 8 months.... #i hope this satisfies the wait! #debnaam #postwargaang

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Won’t You Stay (Part 2)

Summary: Jensen starts his first day of work and learns who the reader is...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x Director!reader 

Word Count: 2,400ish

Warnings: language

A/N: There is no taglist for this series. Check out the masterlist to see how to be notified of new parts. Please enjoy!

______

“Ella,” you said into your phone the next morning as you walked out of your budget meeting, ready to dive into filming. “It was an accident. I’m sure the girl on the other team knows that.”

“I know. I broke her nose though. I felt so bad,” she said. 

“She’ll live. Talk to your coach. Maybe she knows the other one and you can send a get well card or something,” you said.

“Yeah, I think maybe I’ll do that,” she said. “How’s the movie going? I didn’t hear dad come home last night.”

“There was a slight problem yesterday but hopefully it’s settled now,” you said, hearing the phone get shuffled around. “No, Anthony, I’m not getting you Gil Nicholas’ autograph. Guy isn’t even going to be in the movie.”

“Really?” asked your brother.

“Really. He’s kind of a douche. I gotta go and you guys have school. I’ll talk to you guys later,” you said.

“Wait!” said Anthony. “The Nolan situation. You said you’d help.”

“Help what? You two are dating,” you said.

“Mom and dad, genius,” he said.

“Anthony,” groaned Ella in the background. “Mom and dad will not care that you like boys. Y/N and I like boys and they don’t.”

“Yeah but I’m the only boy and our dad literally plays a badass on TV and in movies, El,” he said.

“Anthony. Our dad also was a single father to me for years. He played dress up and princesses and he gave me the puberty talk. He loves you no matter what. So does mom. Trust me,” you said.

“Yeah, but you’re like, his favorite,” he said. You shut your eyes and sighed. “You know what I mean. You’re special.”

“I didn’t meet mom until I was ten years old, Anthony. Dad and I were on our own. I’m not his favorite. There’s no favorite,” you said. “Dad is just overly protective of me is all. We’ll talk about your cute little boyfriend later, okay? I promise.”

“Alright. See ya,” he said. You shook your head as you hung up and headed onto the set, stopping by the breakfast line to grab some coffee. 

An hour later you were at the Hale’s house location, everything looking like it was running smoothly. You popped inside and saw your dad rehearsing with Jensen, giving them both a smile.

“How’s it going?” you asked.

“Good,” said your dad. “We gonna start soon?”

“Five or so minutes,” you said, Jensen staring at you.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize you were a PA on the movie,” he said. Your dad chuckled along with a few other people in the room.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you said, holding out a hand and watching the color drain from Jensen’s face. “I’m your director and the author of The Dark Woods.”

“Well fuck me,” he said, shaking your hand as you smirked. “Oh my...I am so sorry for being late last night and assuming you were a PA and you’re Ethan Y/L/N’s daughter and you wrote my favorite book ever which I was totally fanboying out over last night and I’m going to shut up now.”

“Don’t do that. You’re getting paid to talk after all,” you said with a smile. “Walk with me for a second.”

He followed you out to the back porch and across the yard, swallowing loudly when you came to a stop by a tree.

“Sorry about not mentioning it earlier. I didn’t want you to be nervous in your audition if I was there and I figured it wasn’t a huge deal if you found out this morning,” you said.

“No, no mam. It’s-”

“Please, no mam or boss or that crap. Y/N, that’s it,” you said. “I’m not even your boss.”

“I’m mostly embarrassed about how I gushed last night about the book to the freakin author,” he said, some blush crossing his cheeks.

“As the freakin author, we live for that shit,” you laughed. Jensen relaxed and let out a small one of his own. “I watched your audition. You knew Lyle inside and out.”

“I’ve read the book more than a few times. I…” he trailed off, face going red.

“Yes?”

“I should quit while I’m ahead,” he said. 

“Maybe you can tell me why you like it so much over that drink,” you said, giving him a smile. He looked around and raised an eyebrow.

“You still want to do that?” he asked.

“I’m in charge. It doesn’t mean I’m your boss. That’s casting’s job. I would still expect a drink,” you said.

“Is that such a good idea?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” 

“I sort of asked as...not friends,” he said. “You being...you and the director…”

“Oh,” you said.

“Your dad is kind of terrifying too,” he said. 

“Yeah. He has scared off more than a few guys. Or they’re more interested in him,” you said, forcing a smile. You’d never in a million years want him to feel uncomfortable so if he wanted to keep things professional, that was okay with you. “I guess I’ll be drinking alone on Saturday then.”

“I mean, I didn’t say…” he trailed off. “Maybe someday-“

“It’s cool, Jensen. Let’s get started for the day, hm?” you said. He nodded and you headed back inside the house, finding your chair in a back room. “We ready to go?”

“Mhm,” said your assistant director AJ as he took a seat beside you. You sat back and pulled on your headphones as various departments started shouting off, the camera lining up its first shot.

“Action!” you called. Your dad walked into the kitchen, pointing for Jensen to take a seat. He begrudgingly did so, your dad going to the fridge and pulling out a carton of eggs.

“You live here?” asked Jensen.

“No. I pay the mortgage on this place for fun. Of course I live here, kid,” he said. “Now keep your mouth shut.”

“You’re not a very pleasant person,” mumbled Jensen. Your dad spun around and grabbed the fork off the table, holding it up to Jensen’s neck. He froze, not even letting a breath escape.

“I am still not positive if I’m letting you live yet so be quiet if you want to increase your odds,” he said. Jensen swallowed and your dad pulled away, going back to the eggs. “I hope you like fried eggs.”

“Actually I don’t,” said Jensen. Your dad spun around again but this time Jensen stared him down.

“Fried eggs it is,” he said with a smirk. Jensen rolled his eyes and you called cut.

“Do it again,” you said. “Jensen, can you pause when you walk in and take a look around this time? Notice the house a bit.”

“No problem,” he said.

“Reset,” you said, waiting for them to get out of view of the camera. “Action!”

“Hey, Jensen,” you said, catching him in the parking lot for the actors near the production office that evening. He spun around with a smile, fixing his backpack on his shoulders. 

“Hi, Y/N. What’s up?” he asked.

“I uh, just wanted to say you did really good today. I’m really happy you’re playing Lyle,” you said.

“Oh. Thanks. I’m nowhere near as good as your dad,” he said. “He’s kind of insanely good at this.”

“He’s had more practice,” you said. “Honestly though, I’m glad Gil dropped out. He wouldn’t have done what you were doing today.”

“Why’d he drop out anyways? He’s in freaking Marvel movies. He’s huge,” said Jensen.

“I think he got an offer to do some serious drama. He doesn’t need a breakthrough role. He’s already had that. To be honest I never liked the choice,” you said.

“Well, Lyle’s smart. Gil isn’t exactly known for playing intelligent characters,” said Jensen. You smirked and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I probably shouldn’t trash talk him. I’ve never met him.”

“I have. Trust me. He deserves it. You know your Lyle Sullivan,” you said. 

“I started rereading today during a few breaks. Never hurts to have the source material in your head,” he said. 

“Not sure Gil can read so you’re already winning,” you said. Jensen laughed and nodded. “You don’t have to reread though Jensen. I kept the script the same as the book.”

“Oh, I know. I could tell there weren’t really any changes between them. I just like rereading it,” he said.

“I like to read it every once in a while too,” you said. “I’d say if you ever had any questions on how to play a scene or how Lyle would act feel free to ask but I have a feeling you won’t need help in that department.”

“You had plenty of notes for me today,” he said, ducking his head down.

“I’m sorry,” you said, his head instantly popping up.

“No, no. They were good. It’s kind of why I’m reading it again. Take the kitchen scene today. It’s very clear in the book how Lyle looks around the space,” he said. You stared at him and smiled.

“Jensen, you don’t have to memorize the thing. It’s why I give you notes, so you don’t have to. I know I went a bit overboard today. I’ll try to ease up some.”

“No, it’s good. Keep doing it. It makes it better,” he said. “I want to make it look as good as possible. I can’t imagine being in charge of everything.”

“Well I only get called kid in every meeting I’m in which is lovely,” you said. “I mean my dad is the other lead. I get the whole people thinking this is nepotism thing.”

“Didn’t you use a pen name during publishing though, at least to get someone to choose it on it’s own merits, not your name? I thought I read that,” he said.

“Yeah. I did. Once I got the deal I gave my real name. I mean, people can think whatever they want. I wanted it published because it was good enough though, not because some chick in an office thinks my dad is attractive or something,” you said.

“I can understand that,” he said. “Hey, can I ask question about the book?”

“Shoot,” you said as he leaned back against his car.

“Why does the cover have a picture of the woods on a bright day if it’s the Dark Woods? I always wondered that,” he said.

“Oh boy,” you laughed. “It’s been a while since I’ve been asked that. If you can believe it, there was a printing error where they forgot to add a filter but it was too late to go back and fix it. I ended up liking it.”

“Here I thought it was because Lyle’s a good guy, Hale too, despite all the reasons they have to be bad,” he said. “You know, light in dark. Symbolism or whatever.”

“Nah,” you laughed, Jensen letting out one of his own. “I do like that interpretation though. I uh, I’m sorry for keeping you. I’m sure you want to get home. I have to go do some more work. I won’t keep you anymore.”

“No, it’s cool. I like talking to you,” he said. “I’ll catch you around tomorrow, Y/N.”

“You too, Jensen.”

You headed into the building, heading upstairs to where your movie had a few rooms to use. You popped into your small office and pulled out your laptop from your backpack, stretching before you grabbed your binder and sat down.

You skimmed through it and made some notes, hopping back and forth between it and your email for a while. You yawned and put your head in your hand, scrolling through a few things and making a choice on a few costume choices for Jensen and your dad.

“Kiddo,” said your dad, shaking your shoulder all of a sudden. You popped your head up from your production office desk, your dad giving you a smile. “You missed mom’s calls earlier. She had me come check on you since you never answered. I think you conked out at some point.”

“What time is it?” you yawned.

“About three in the morning. I checked your apartment first,” he said. “Come on, up and at ‘em.”

“I got to be here at six for prep, might as well stay,” you said, stretching in your seat.

“You’ll burn yourself out if you pull all-nighters all the time,” he said. “It’s only day three.”

“And it took a lot longer to film yesterday’s scenes than I thought it would,” you said. “Everything was good but the location hopping took way longer than I thought it would.”

“Follow me,” he said. You groaned and he pulled you to your feet, guiding you down the hall and outside to the night air. You walked for a few minutes until you were at his trailer door, your dad opening it up and flipping on the light switch.

“Your trailers have gotten nicer over the years,” you said as you stepped up inside

“And what was your favorite part of my trailers ever since you were a little girl?” he asked, walking you back to the bedroom. “The big ass bed.”

“They were awesome for jumping on,” you said.

“Well next time you skip dinner at our place, text mom so she doesn’t worry and the next time you need to stay late, crash here, sweetie,” he said. “Now sleep, kiddo. I’ll be out on the pullout.”

“Thanks dad,” you said, getting a kiss on the forehead before you plopped down on the bed.

“Rest up. Tomorrow’s a big stunt day.”

______

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

#supernatural #spn #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #supernatural series #supernatural reader insert #jensen ackles x reader #spn reader insert #jensen reader insert #jensen x #jensen ackles x you

[mass-dreams]

i wrote a thing?? it’s uhhhh almost three thousand words so you can read it on AO3 if you want. this is my first time properly sharing my writing, so i’m nervous, and i know i have a ton of room to improve. constructive criticism is always appreciated, but please don’t be rude!! in the very relatable words of our beloved alistair theirin, “i bruise easily.” (metaphorically so, this time)

_______________________________________________________

Thalia was used to feeling unwanted.  

The moment the fire had left her fingertips, the life she had always known shattered. She had expected that, really. But she hadn’t expected the disgust in her father’s eyes when her magic became known. She hadn’t expected her mother to cower in fear of her nine-year-old daughter. 

Even as her younger brother’s arms wrapped around her waist, the ache in her chest only became more painful. The lump in her throat grew. The tears in her eyes spilled over.

Her family was safe. Her little brother was safe. That should be all that mattered. 

Yet she knew they didn’t feel safe. Not anymore. Not with her. 

Her own family didn’t want her. 

She was cast aside, struck from the Trevelyan records as much as public knowledge would allow. 

“We can’t have a mage, of all things, tainting our house’s reputation,” Bann Trevelyan had said. 

When the Templars arrived, Thalia felt almost relieved to finally leave her home.

Although, it wasn’t really her home anymore, was it? 

With each step taken away from the Trevelyan estate, she could feel the invisible cord connecting her to the place become tighter and tighter until it was pulled taut. Until it snapped. 

It felt like the broken pieces of the life she had just destroyed were cutting into her- nothing but sharp edges, draining everything. 

Life in the Ostwick Circle felt almost like a dream to Thalia. Then, she was too young to know the horrors mages often faced. She only knew that she was finally learning how to properly control her magic. That there was a library filled with books waiting for her. 

She was homesick for a while. There were many nights she fell asleep with tears soaking her pillow, mourning the life she had once had. The brothers she had had to leave behind. The parents whose love she had thought unconditional until she found the exception. Until she realized she was the exception. 

Thalia paid little attention to the other apprentices, though not maliciously, or even intentionally. She was so wrapped up in learning everything she possibly could, that making friends was far from her mind.

The others misinterpreted her distance.

In their minds, she was being snobbish, and conceited, and thought she was better than them because she was nobility. 

For years, Thalia was an outcast without even knowing it.

It wasn’t until her teenage years that she realized just how anti-social she had been. She was always polite and kind in the interactions she had with her peers, even though they were few and far between. 

She made a point to actually attempt to make a friend.

That was when she finally noticed the whispers, and the pointing, and the laughs. When she tried to start a conversation with one of her fellow mages, they would sneer, and hastily end the exchange.

Thalia knew when she was unwanted. 

Years later, everything had changed. The Circles were no more. There was a giant hole in the sky. And the key to the world’s salvation was on Thalia’s left hand, glowing a bright, sickly green. 

The mage walked out of the Chantry, inhaling a deep breath of the fresh, crisp air she had been deprived of for fifteen years. She strolled leisurely towards the gates of Haven, taking in the sights of people bustling about in the snow.

She stepped outside of the village, her attention quickly drawn to golden hair and a deep scowl. 

Maker, Thalia would never understand how the commander managed to look endearing while literally glaring at reports. 

She was aware of the fact that he used to be a Templar, and she was also much more knowledgeable of what many mages unfairly faced throughout Thedas. Cullen had seemed wary of her at first. The man had seemed to warm up to her, though, after she had aided the refugees in the Hinterlands and used her healing abilities to help the soldiers. 

Ever since she had first met Cullen on the battlefield, he had invaded her thoughts, taking up much more space in her mind than was appropriate. Foolish, she knows, to think of a man she met only a short time ago so often. 

He was the commander though, and her the Herald of Andraste (or so many believed). She ought to get to know him better, considering the amount of time the two would be spending together for Maker-only-knows how long. At least until they sorted out this whole “end of the world” business. 

However, as Thalia gathered up the courage to speak to the man (and rehearsed the entire conversation in her head), the stares and whispers caught her attention. 

“The ‘Herald of Andraste’- a mage! Can you believe it?”

“I heard she’s supposed to be nobility, but was kicked out of her own damn family!”

“Does she even speak? I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say a word.” 

“That’s probably because no one wants to get close enough to hold a conversation!” 

Thalia turned on her heel and hastily retreated back into the village, back into her cabin.

Perhaps not everything had changed. 

Skyhold felt like a new beginning. 

It seemed as though Thalia had proven herself when she risked her life during the destruction of Haven.

In all honesty, she had been absolutely terrified. Like, shit-your-pants terrified. 

She never, in a million years, would have thought that she would have to face down an ancient dark magister and his pet archdemon. 

She was familiar with the prospect of risking herself to save others, though. She had experience in that area. The lives of those hundreds of villagers was worth far more than her own. If it took her death for them to live another day, then so be it. 

The whispers and stares had lost their malice. Now it was mostly wonder, and even worship that filled the expressions of those she passed by. 

It also felt like the beginning of something with her commander.

In the courtyard, he had promised to never let anything like Haven happen again. The poor man took the deaths of those lost as his own personal failure.

He had also said that he was glad she made it out. Specifically her. While the words themselves could be chalked up to his unwillingness to lose the Anchor or just another life in general, the expression on his face, and his awkwardness after the words left his mouth made Thalia think differently. 

Then came his struggle with lyrium. 

Thalia’s heart hurt to think of Cullen in pain- to think of everything he had had to experience in his past and the effect it had on him. 

His strength through everything, and his ability to persevere only made her affection and respect for him grow stronger.

She had assured him that he was doing the right thing. That he could make it through. 

Afterwards, when she had found him on the battlements, she couldn’t help but watch as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath in.

He seemed… at peace, if only for a moment. As if he had been able to lay down a burden he had been carrying on his shoulders for so long. 

Each time Thalia thought she couldn’t possibly feel anymore for this man than she already did, he managed to prove her wrong.

Their chess game in Skyhold’s gardens only reinforced the small inkling in Thalia’s head of what if…? 

What if her feelings weren’t unrequited? What if Cullen reciprocated? 

“We should spend more time together,” Thalia risked saying.

“I would like that,” Cullen replied, his face seeming to light up at the idea.

Unable to form any other words, Thalia simply said, “Me too.”

His eyes were gentle, and a small smile graced his lips as the words left his mouth, “You said that.” 

Thalia’s face burnt as he brought their attention back to chess. Her embarrassment was worth it to see him smile, though. Maker, what she would do to make him smile. 

Not soon after that, the two began to have near nightly chess games, even going as far to have supper in Cullen’s office while they played.

It evolved into a routine for them. Eventually the chess board would lay forgotten- the pair too wrapped up in conversation and each other to pay attention to it. 

The illusion Thalia had built for herself crumbled sooner than she had expected. 

Of course, it was on a night when she was feeling particularly brave- particularly reckless. 

At the war table meeting that morning, she had caught the commander staring at her. While Josephine was rambling about a very important noble visitor (Thalia couldn’t even remember who it was, now), she had glanced at the man (which she absolutely did not do every twenty seconds, thank you very much) and found his eyes already on her. 

He quickly looked away, a blush coloring his cheeks. 

She turned back to Josie, with a large smile that she couldn’t seem to hide, and attempted to force herself to pay attention to the words coming out of the woman’s mouth, but ultimately failed.

Later that day, the two had even found time to have lunch together.

Or, well, Thalia had arrived at his office with a report that could absolutely not be handled by anyone else (it may have had something to do with trebuchets, though Thalia didn’t know for sure, as she had barely glanced at it before snatching it from the messenger while they were distracted delivering the inquisitor's own reports), and demanded Cullen eat something after he had denied having breakfast, and initially refused to eat lunch, as well. 

Although, he had given in rather easily to Thalia after she had offered to stay and eat with him. 

Ultimately, these events motivated the inquisitor to do something she never would have expected from herself- confess. 

That night, she had resolved to return to Cullen’s office after they had supper, when most of Skyhold’s inhabitants would be either asleep or shit-faced drunk at the Herald’s Rest. 

She donned her favorite outfit- a long, flowy dress with transparent sleeves that lacked a shoulder, colored a light blue which Josie had said matched her eyes, and Thalia couldn’t remember the last time she had worn a dress. Not robes, but an actual dress. She pulled her long black hair over her shoulders, and took a deep breath as she descended the stairs into the main hall.

With each step the butterflies in her stomach became more intense, but at that moment Thalia had no doubt in her actions or what the result of them would be.

As she pushed open the door leading onto the walkway to Cullen’s office, she couldn’t help but smile. 

To think that all it would take to move their relationship forward- to something they both wanted, she was sure- was just a little bit of courage.

She almost laughed. She probably would have, if her eyes hadn’t caught the figure leaving Cullen’s office through the door facing the tavern. 

It was an elven woman, dressed in the inquisition’s scout armor- Thalia could tell by the shape of the silhouette. 

The woman seemed to be… readjusting her clothes, and fixing her hair. 

But why would she be delivering something to the commander so late at night? And why would she be so disheveled just from-

Oh.

Oh.

The smile dropped from the inquisitor’s face as the realization hit her. 

Of course Cullen didn’t actually want me, she thought. It was ridiculous to even entertain the idea. He probably only dealt with you because you’re basically his boss.

The thought made her heart ache, and her eyes fill with tears.

Throughout her entire life, no one had wanted her.

Why would this be any different?

Why would he be any different?

How could she have believed that this strong, kind, selfless man could possibly have feelings for her- a mage disowned by her own family, with nothing but herself to offer him? 

Foolish, really. 

The ache in her chest only grew stronger as she made her way back to her quarters.

Thalia knew when she was unwanted. 

She was used to it by now. 

Thalia allowed herself only that night to mourn what she thought had been. Only one night to let the tears fall freely. There was still a world to save, after all. 

Attempts to avoid the commander entirely were futile, considering their positions. 

Though she had stopped her evening visits to his office, entirely convinced their friendship had been one-sided and in her head because why would he want to spend time with her that he could be spending with his lover? 

When she caught him watching her, she chalked it up to be him double-checking her- making sure she was doing everything right because obviously, as the Herald of Andraste, she couldn’t make a single mistake. His small, almost shy smiles that always made her melt, were never meant to affect her in the way they did. When he went to check on her in her quarters after she was buried underneath a mountain of paperwork, making sure she ate, it was concern for their leader, not for her. 

She had mistaken his tolerance for acceptance- for desire, even for the possibility of what could eventually be love. 

But of course he would be with someone else. Of course, Thalia wouldn’t be enough because she had never even been kissed, for fuck’s sake. If no one else had wanted her in that way, why would he?

Soon, though, Cullen seemed… different. The circles under his eyes became darker as the days went by. His hand went to his temple- an attempt to ease a headache, Thalia knew- more often than ever before. The candle illuminating his office windows seemed to burn even longer into the night. 

Eventually, concern for the man overpowered Thalia’s own shattered heart. If he didn’t want her there, then he could tell her so. 

She went to his office at an ungodly hour in the morning, when she couldn’t sleep, and neither could he, it seemed.

Thalia knocked softly on Cullen’s door, and stepped into his office after hearing his quiet, gruff, “Come in.”

“Inquisitor!” he startled, abruptly standing up from behind his desk. “I thought… I thought you stopped coming.” His voice seemed small, and weak when the words left his mouth. 

“Yes, well… I saw you had found someone else to spend your time with. I didn’t wish to impose,” Thalia replied, though with no malice, and not accusatory- she was just stating an observation. She ignored the confused furrow in his brow as she attempted to barrel on and get to the point- his well being, which was much more important. He didn’t allow her to do that, though, and stopped her before she could say anything else.

“Who… ? What are you talking about? I assure you, no one has taken your place. My eyes are only on you,” Cullen said, as if it was the most casual thing in the world, as if it wouldn’t make Thalia’s heart beat a thousand times faster because does he mean what I think he means? 

His words seemed to catch up to him, as his signature, adorable blush appeared on his cheeks and his hand came up to rub the back of his neck. “Maker’s breath. That is… I mean…”

“What about the scout I saw leave your office? It was really late, and she seemed… a bit disheveled,” Thalia replied, deciding to put him out of his misery, and seek the answer she really needed if he truly did mean what he said.

The furrow between the commander’s brows reappeared, his lips set into a small pout as he tried to recall the scout she was asking about. 

“Are you talking about… Maker, I didn’t know it looked like that. She had ran all the way here from the stables with an urgent message from the Hinterlands, then promptly tripped when she walked through my doorway.” 

Thalia almost giggled, but didn’t when she realized it sounded like something that she, herself, would do, and that this meant her commander had no lover and might actually feel the same way about her. 

However, “Oh…” was all that managed to leave her mouth.

The pair stood there in awkward silence, until-

“Did you really mean-”

“I really meant-”

They spoke at the same time, then met each other’s eyes as their faces burnt red, and smiles graced their lips.

“I did,” Cullen said softly, as he stepped out from behind his desk and stopped right in front of Thalia. “Do you…?”

“I do.” The words were breathy- she practically whispered them- but how was she supposed to form a coherent thought when he was so close and his eyes kept looking at her lips and Maker, he’s going to kiss me.

Their lips met, with one of Cullen’s hands on her cheek and his other on her waist. It was clumsy, and Thalia knew she was doing it wrong, but Maker, this is perfect. 

When he made to pull away, Thalia pouted and reached up to pull him back to her. 

He smiled against her mouth and let her. 

Thalia already knew she would never be able to get enough of the man. 

She knew, now, that she was wanted. 

#cullen rutherford #commander cullen #cullen romance #cullen x inquisitor #female inquisitor #female mage inquisitor #female trevelyan #first kiss #pining #angst with a happy ending #not actually unrequited love #misunderstanding

[welcometocaritas]

‘if you love me, don’t let go...’

First chapter of my yumagna fic is out ladies and gentlebabies! 

Chapter: 1/6

Characters: Yumiko & Magna

Pairing: Yumagna

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Format: Multi-Chap

Summary:  At some point, you just have to let go - or so Yumiko keeps telling herself.There was never any letting go of Magna.

Links: A03, FF.NET

[watermark is from my instagram yumagnas.home don’t worry i didn’t steal the pic ;)]

 A/N: 

[The rape/non-con is there for Magna's cousin and it will only ever be in references I will not be writing anything detailed about it because I don't want to trigger anyone and this isn't the story for writing about something like that as I would not be able to give it the time and attention it deserves]

Small note: Magna's cousin is called Maisie in this and I've also given her a brother called Morgan.

y'all are going to hate me because yes, this is going to be over 20000 words about a single night. And probably not even the whole night. but there's also flashbacks so it's OK? In my defense, we've gotten very few conversations with these two so there was a lot to talk about. I can't be held responsible for my actions. blame the writers.

I’m honestly a little worried that I’m going to bore people to tears because there’s really no plot. It’s just yumagna being soft and finally sorting out their shit.

I'm also working on a short oneshot - for real this time it's actually going to be short - that's set in the indeterminate future after this. It's basically just going to be pure fluff which you should knew is unheard of - I never write fluff. So hopefully it's not terrible.

There be angst here, lots of angst, but also comfort - if you’re familiar with my writing that won’t be a surprise to you.

I don’t have much hope for canon so I decided to do what I could to fix the mess they made.

I normally wouldn’t reveal anything that’s going to happen in a fic but y’all have been tortured enough already so just know I will absolutely be getting these girls back together, it won’t take more than a night, but it will take about 20000 words. Most of the story is written out already I’m just doing post-edits so I’ll update daily :)

If things seem a little disjointed it’s because I wrote everything out of order and it’s been a bit of a struggle to get everything to fit into place. I also haven’t slept more than 1-4 hours a night for the past three weeks, have been getting constant migraines and blood sugar crashes so I’m gonna apologize right now if there are any mistakes. I’m super sorry.

This is for the yumagna fandom cos I wanted y'all to have something nice with everything that's going on. I would also like to give a special thanks to Abbey and Mina who acted as my sounding board throughout this whole thing and were very patient with me - love you guys :)

....

"If you love me, don't let go

Hold

Hold on

Hold on to me

'Cause I'm a little unsteady

A little unsteady . . . "

- Unsteady by X Ambassadors

. . .

Nightmares had always been an issue, though less so in recent years. Magna had gotten almost gotten used to having a full night's sleep, barring the occasional pillow snatch. Back before all this started, she'd been on medication for PTSD, but well, it was kind of hard to fill a prescription in the middle of the apocalypse - and, well, the apocalypse had only added to the previous need for said medication. At least she was in good company. These days, it was more of a surprise if someone wasn't experiencing some form of post-traumatic stress, and that was a somewhat odd reality to wake up in, day after day. For years, this thing had set her apart but now? Now it just made her like everyone else.

Miko had nightmares too.

It was what had led to them sharing a 'bed' in the first place, way before things between them moved beyond the confines of friendship. They'd fallen asleep by the fire one particularly cold night, curled around each other for warmth, and they hadn't awoken until morning.

It had been something of a revelation.

On Magna's end, she suspected it had had a lot to do with trust. She'd trusted Miko not to shove a shiv into her side or try to cop a feel whilst she slept, trusted her even more to have her back if things went south during the night. She'd been . . . safe. Magna wasn't used to people being safe - she wasn't quite sure what she offered Miko in return, though; maybe the same thing.

Of course, in many ways Yumiko wasn't safe. There was nothing safe about the way Magna felt about her. Or the way those feelings seemed to be returned. She knew Miko had had a girlfriend in college who cheated - and when the other woman had told her that, a vindictive part of her had hoped the bitch had been one of the many, many people to meet their end by sicko teeth. Miko had smacked her on the arm for that comment, exasperation tempered by fondness and reluctant amusement.

She'd realized in her time away, that this past hurt would have only sharpened Magna's betrayal. Trust was important to Miko - hell, it was important to Magna - and she had broken hers by lying, lying for years. She hadn't thought of it that way when she'd been doing it. The secret had weighed on her, yes, but she'd been viewing it from a place of hadn't really considered how it would hurt Miko, only what it would do to their relationship if it had ever come out, what it would do to her.

That, more than anything, had made her realize that Miko had been right to kick her out. More than right.

Which is why she could hardly believe that they were here now. That Miko was letting her head rest in her lap, that she had invited her to do so. Sitting back against a tree and patting her thigh with a small smile her way when Magna had gone to settle a short distance off. The way she had nearly fallen over herself to accept that invitation was almost embarrassing but she couldn't bring herself to feel self-conscious about it, or to second guess the action. They'd done this as friends too and she was glad it wasn't something she had sacrificed with their relationship.

She'd been attracted to Yumiko from the moment they met. It was hard not to be. She wasn't blind - hot lawyer lady in a suit, how could she not notice her in that way? The woman had entered into her dilapidated life with a sureness and determination that was hard to dismiss. Intelligent, strong, and fighting for her.

No one had ever fought for Magna. Not until Miko.

(really, she'd been screwed from the start)

Of course, the person Yumiko was fighting for was little more than an illusion. If Miko had only known the truth then . . .

She probably would have dropped her like a hot potato, just like everybody else. She probably would have been wise to.

Or maybe she wasn't giving Miko enough credit. After all, she was still here now. Carding her hand through Magna's hair in a soothing motion as she pretended to sleep - and Miko pretended to believe her. She knew the truth now, and still she kept close. Maybe they weren't together anymore but that had been as much Magna's choice as Miko's. She couldn't let herself get to that place again, where she was so terrified of losing something, she ended up destroying it.

  And God, Magna was so tired, so tired of being afraid, so tired of being angry.

Just so tired.

('I can't do this anymore.')

She needed a distance between them, even if she didn't want it. Romantic relationships had a tendency to blow up in her face. But friendships . . . well, they tended to be more reliable. After all, she had been friends with Miko for years and things only turned sour after they had crossed over the safety of that border into something more.

(things turned sour because you couldn't stand keeping it a secret from her anymore. The same thing would have happened if you'd still been only friends)

She shifted uncomfortably, remembering at the last second that she was supposed to be asleep. But Miko only stilled a moment before continuing with her motions, allowing the deception to maintain itself.

The relief passed her lips in a shaky exhale.

Magna couldn't bring herself to talk anymore. She was drained - both emotionally and physically - and the thought of pulling any more words out almost made her cry from exhaustion. And Miko seemed to sense that, almost as soon as Magna had first fallen silent. But then, she'd always been good at reading her.

She was observant. Like Connie.

Squeezing her eyes shut tighter, she immediately regretted the action. In the darkness, all she saw was her friend's face, disappearing into the crowd of sickos, possibly never to be seen again. Of course, Magna hadn't seen that at all. She'd kept her gaze ahead, too wary to look around and give away the disguise, but she had felt Connie's hand slip from hers, the ache of the empty space it left behind. Her imagination filled in the blanks now, even adding in a few colorful extras - wide eyes, a silent scream, falling beneath the weight of too many bodies, torn apart. Gone.

So many people were just . . . gone.

"Do you think she survived?" The words hung in the night air; foreign, distant. Magna blinked, unsure if they'd really come from her. She couldn't remember opening her mouth. But her tongue felt thick and heavy, her lips cracked, she could taste the metallic hint of blood caused by the effort.

Miko paused. Just a second, her fingers tangling in Magna's hair a little too tight, almost painful, then a breath, and she returned to smoothing it back. "You did."

"Barely. I was lucky."

"And there's no reason she won't be, too. Connie's smart, strong. She could make it."

Magna could think of a hundred reasons. A thousand.

Her stomach turned and she closed her eyes, opening them in a snap when Connie's face answered her. She trembled. "I should have stopped. I should have looked for her."

Miko didn't hesitate. "Then you'd be dead. Might even have gotten her killed as well. All for nothing."

At least, I wouldn 't be feeling like this.

Magna opened her mouth to argue but found that she didn't have the strength. She closed her eyes again, inhaling the scent of the woods, of the leaves and dirt beneath their bodies, of Miko. Especially Miko. "What the hell am I going to say to Kelly?"

If she wasn't dead.

What if they were the only ones left? Her and Miko. Bernie gone. Connie gone. Kelly gone. Luke gone. She'd failed to protect them. All of them.

And she'd thought she'd cried enough tears but her eyes burned and she rubbed at them fiercely, like there was dirt, like if she could just get it out the fire would vanish and she wouldn't crumble to ashes in its grip.

And there was Miko's voice, all at once gentle and firm, pulling her back. "She won't blame you. She knows you. You've always fought hard for us. As hard as you can. This just wasn't a situation in which you could."

Magna nearly scoffed.

No, she could have fought. But she'd gotten scared. She'd hesitated. She hated being fucking scared (small and shaking, hugging Morgan to her chest as Daddy's voice got loud, so loud, why was it so loud?). It was such a useless emotion. And now it had probably gotten Connie killed.

Miko tugged at her hair slightly, gentle but scolding. "Seriously, Magna. You couldn't have done anything. If anyone should be feeling guilty it's me."

Frowning, she turned her head in her grip to look up, a strand of hair snagged but she didn't mind the pain. "What are you talking about?"

But Miko shook her head, refusing to meet her gaze as she focused on raking her hands through Magna's hair, avoiding the knots with an ease born of years of practice. "I should have been there with you. I shouldn't have stayed behind that day."

And then you might be dead, too. Magna shuddered at the thought. Her worst fear, worse than Miko choosing to leave her, being taken from her. Forever.

And it wasn't even a what-if situation. It felt inevitable. This was the apocalypse: their expiration dates were always inching closer.

"I'm glad you did." Even though Magna couldn't see her face, she sensed her hurt, felt the flinch of her hand. "I couldn't lose you. Not like that."

Giving up on getting Miko to look at her, she settled back in her lap but kept her eyes open.

Yumiko's voice was caustic when she responded, fragile and harsh all at once. "I thought I lost you." The hand resumed its stroking, stiffer now, almost angry. "At least if I had been there I could have helped, and I would have known. I would have known if you were okay."

Not if you got out with Kelly.

But, no, Miko wouldn't have left them, wouldn't have left her. She would have seen her double back with Connie and gone after her too - like Magna, she was always watching. Maybe she would even have noticed and gone after Connie first - she was equally as protective of their group - and then Magna would have been the one left behind, to wonder, to fear.

Thinking about it, that probably would have driven her to punch Carol, too. Though her fuse had always been a lot shorter than Miko's.

Now, she snorted at the sudden memory. "I can't believe you punched Carol. I've never seen you like that." In a way, it had scared her. She was so used to Miko being the calm one, forever in control. She was the one who reined Magna in.

Okay, it had also been kind of hot. Even half-dead on her feet, she couldn't fail to notice that.

"To be honest, neither can I." There was a wry note to the older woman's tone, and Magna wondered if she was smiling, almost risked looking up again to find out. "I don't regret it, if that's what you're wondering."

"Not like you to kick a dog when it's down."

"Not like you to be so forgiving."

She scoffed. "I'm not. Connie's gone. Probably dead and she-" Magna swallowed, collecting herself. "I'm not forgiving. I just don't have the energy to be angry anymore."

"Well that's definitely not like you." Miko teased, hesitating for a moment before severity bled back into her tone. "Are you going to be okay?"

She closed her eyes, sighed. Why was she so good? "You don't have to worry about me, Miko."

Scoff. "Another lie. I found a grey hair the other day, thanks to you."

"Oh and it couldn't have possibly been the literal end of days that we're stuck in?"

"Have you met you?" Another tug at her hair, this time playful and, for a moment, Magna could breathe easier. "Seriously, though, are you going to be okay?"

For a moment.

She shifted, hair pulling painfully but that was almost welcome. "I'll be fine. I'll be a lot better once we find Kelly and Luke."

"And Connie."

"And Connie." She wished she could feel more hopeful on that front. Miko squeezed her shoulder and she relaxed slightly, trying to push the dark thoughts away for now. There'd been too many of them tonight already. There were always too many. But just for tonight she wanted to escape them, to hide away in Miko's lap and absorb every touch, every smell, every word . . . that she had come so close to never experiencing again.

. . .

"How can you lose me? You've owned me from the first moment I saw you."

― Dianna Hardy, Cry Of The Wolf

. . .

The full gravity of the world ending fell upon Yumiko within a matter of hours, there'd been no time to trivialize or hope. Right from the start, she'd felt the impact.

Her mother had been a doctor in the old world and she'd been working a shift at the hospital when the outbreak hit the city and surrounding areas. Yumiko's stomach still turned at the memory of calling her up from the safety of Magna's apartment, her eyes trained on the insanity playing out across every news station, her heart pounding as she pleaded, pleaded for the other woman to pick up, to be alright, to-

But the phone had rung and rung. One, two, twelve phone calls later and nothing.

----

Unable to sit and wait any longer, Yumiko swiped her abandoned keys off the table and marched towards the door, ready to drive over there right that second and  make  her mother okay. She was smart, her mother was smart, and resourceful, and she'd never stopped practicing krav maga - and Yumiko would definitely come to regret refusing all those classes the woman had tried to get her to enroll in growing up but she 'd been focused on her books and her studies and all her dreams for a future that fighting never entered into-

Her mother would be  fine .

But a hand grabbed hers - strong, nails almost biting into her skin - and pulled her back. "You can't go out there."

Magna.

At some point, she 'd forgotten the other woman was even there, just whose home she stood barricaded within.

"I have to get to the hospital, my mother she-"

"Yumiko, you saw the news - hell, you just almost got your face bitten off by one of those sickos - the world's fucking lost it. " Her face took on an expression of incredulity. "And you want to go to the fucking hospital? No, no way."

Yumiko clenched her jaw, trying not to snap. "She's my mother. I  need  to make sure she's okay."

"I know, OK? Trust me I get it but . . ." she took a breath, frustrated and Yumiko could detect an air of desperation in the way she closed her eyes, pressed her lips together. "But you just, you can't, okay? They said that part of the city is already overrun and it's a  hospital . The amount of people in there,  dying  people . . . it's a death trap."

Yumiko looked away, knowing she was right but unwilling to face it. It was her  mother .

For a spiteful moment, she wondered whether Magna really did  'get it'. As far as she knew, the other woman hadn't visited her own mother since she was a child. Yumiko didn't even know if she was still alive - or if Magna knew for that matter.

"Look, I . . . " Magna shook her head. "If I thought that it could work, that we'd be able to help, hell even be able to get  in  there, I would drive you myself."

"You don't have a license." She wasn 't sure why she said it, why out of all the things Magna was saying,  that  had stuck out the most. But it was the only thing she had the means to protest.

Magna huffed. "Fine, I'd let you drive but that-that's not the point. Miko, we don't even know how to kill these things. I stabbed that guy in the neck and he barely even flinched. The dead are eating people, I can't . . ." She shook her head, lost for words. "I can't protect you from that."

Yumiko cursed the way those words made her stomach flip -  not  the time. Her phone felt heavy in her pocket, useless, and her mind was a violent hellscape, tossing up image after image of all the situations that could be keeping her mother from answering but . . .

Fuck it.

She was right.

The world shook for a moment, shaky legs almost falling out from under her as she allowed herself to sink down onto the floor, hiding her head in her hands.  She was right . The darkness made everything still and she could imagine for a moment that this wasn't really happening, that it was just some big nightmare, that-

People were fucking  eating  people, for god's sakes.  Dead  people. How  could  this be real?

There was a pause, the sound of shuffling, and she felt a stiff form settle down beside her. Hesitantly, an arm came around her, too lose, too distant, but there. "I'm sorry."

Yumiko shook her head, forgetting entirely Magna's discomfort when it came to any kind of physical intimacy - hell, any kind of intimacy in general - and allowed herself to collapse. Falling into her, she buried her head in the other woman's chest, hands coming up to latch onto the fabric of her shirt, desperate for something, anything to hold onto.

Magna flinched and her body became like a rock, rebelling at every place of contact between them.

Remembering herself, Yumiko moved to withdraw, "Shit, sorry, I-" but the arm around her tightened, keeping her in place. Slowly, she felt the muscles against her force themselves to relax as that arm found a surer purchase, pulling her closer. After a moment, she felt the slight weight of a chin coming to rest on her head, a hand coming up to find one of hers. Disentangling Yumiko 's almost rabid hold, they wrapped around her and squeezed, held tight and this-

This was better.

"Stay."

She did.

. . .

"I am your friend. a soul for your soul. a place for your life. home. know this. sun or water. here or away. we are a lighthouse. we leave. and we stay."

― Nayyirah Waheed

. . .

Magna knew that Miko's upbringing had been a fair bit more stable than hers. Parents divorced at nine, yes, but that was terribly common wasn't it? (and neither of them had tried to shoot the other.) She'd graduated at the top of her class, whilst Magna had been kicked out of three schools for fighting before her aunt and uncle had given up and stopped sending her. It wasn't a huge loss. The only classes she'd been doing well in were art and P.E. And whilst she had missed those it was a relief to get away from the taunting students and judgmental teachers.

Considering her criminal record that kept her from working at anything other than a seedy truck stop with its overly handsy customers, that had probably worked out for the best. Good grades wouldn't have been of any help to her by then.

She still laughed sometimes at the memory of Miko popping by on her shifts, how out of place she'd looked, sitting on a rickety stool behind the counter whilst Magna tended customers, still dressed in a suit from work that never seemed to wrinkle.

The pair of them had garnered more than a few looks.

But Miko had been at ease with it, picking at her fries - the only food on the menu that would probably pass a health inspection - making small talk, interjecting with the occasional complaint about Jerry, the company vulture, who kept trying to steal her clients. Magna had been confused by the attention, wary even. She'd wondered if the lawyer checked up on all her former clients like this, or if she was just a special case. She hadn't asked - she hadn't wanted to know the answer, to face the inevitable 'yes'.

A part of her had wanted to scare her off, had hated the way she got instantly on edge as soon as she saw Miko's form enter in the door, the way she felt even worse when she watched her leave out it. But another, more secret part, had been starved for company; the kind that didn't make her want to punch someone, anyway. So she'd held her tongue, and slowly let down her defenses.

Until one night, a trucker had gone to bite a chunk out of Miko's face.

It had been her turn to work the truck stop diner connected to the store, and Yumiko had been leaning against the counter, nursing a cup of too-sweet hot chocolate and conversing with her between customers. She'd just glanced down at her phone after hearing a ping and Magna had looked up at the sound, glimpsed the man lumbering closer, closer - too close.

She'd never been so glad of the quick reflexes life had beaten into her, because in that moment she hadn't needed to think. She'd shoved Miko back, a little too forcefully since she ended up hitting the ground with a smack that made Magna wince - but it was enough.

Her hand had been grabbing the knife from beneath the bench before she even registered, her arm jolting with the shock of sinking it into flesh that gave way too easily as she leapt across the counter, blood spattering against her face in a terrible sort of deja vu, her stomach turning - fuck fuck fuck - but he didn't fall, didn't scream; and then she'd grabbed Miko, tugged her up and ran, ears howling with the sound of all hell breaking loose around them. The police sirens in her head hadn't been real, she'd known they weren't, they couldn't be, not this soon, but her heart pounded in her chest from more than just adrenaline and fuck-

She'd done it again.

And just when she was finally starting to get used to freedom.

She hadn't realized until later that night, hauled up in her apartment - it had been closest and neither of them had really wanted to be alone after that - and watching the actual End of Days unfold on international television, that it had been the first time they'd touched. Magna had always kept a certain level of distance and Miko had never tried to cross it. Not until later that night, when Magna had reached out to stop her from leaving, when she'd collapsed into her arms with an ease that made Magna want to run out the door instead . . . and later when Miko grabbed her hand as she was heading to bed. It was just a moment, just a brief squeeze accompanied by a weak but grateful smile - but Magna had felt her heart try to escape her chest at that smile, at that touch . . .

It had just been a push. Barely anything compared to getting someone out of jail at least twelve years - though more likely an entire lifetime - earlier than expected. Especially when she still hadn't known that the person she'd been fighting so hard to free wasn't nearly as innocent as she'd assumed.

Somehow, the most surprising event of the night, was that Magna hadn't minded the touch, hadn't pulled away. More shocking, she'd missed it when it was gone; had felt empty each time Miko left her grasp, yearning to reach out and-

And that was when Magna had known she was screwed.

Miko told her that she'd known the same thing sometime around the third day of planning their trial strategy.

Thirteen years later and they were still pretty screwed.

. . .

"I've spent much too long in the space between staying and letting go."

- Perry Poetry

 . . .

A/N: So this story has turned out to be a lot more Magna-centric then intended and that's not because I love Yumiko any less, I just find it easier to get inside the heads of characters like Magna. I'm used to writing somewhat dysfunctional people with more than a bit of trauma (probably cos I have a bit of trauma of my own lol). You know, the loveable walking disasters of the world. She might come off a bit ooc in this and that's partly because I'm still familiarizing myself with writing her and because she's a tad bit fragile after everything that's happened, which i think we all saw in last episode - Miko is also feeling pretty fragile for the same reason. Speaking of which. What. The. Fuck. It makes zero sense to me that these two would make up but still not get back together and I'm gonna sue the writers for torture if this keeps going on. So I had to write a fix-it fic. And I also felt like there was a lot these two still needed to talk about that I'm not entirely confident the show will ever address so voila a fic was made.

Also, just gonna note going forth that Magna’s own feelings about herself aren’t necessarily a reflection of my own feelings about her character. Girl’s got some insecurities to sort through. Likewise, her judgments - good and bad - about Yumiko aren’t necessarily true, either, for the same reason. It’s one of the causes for conflict in their relationship.

So there are probably two ways to look at how these two might have noticed they had feelings for each other: a) these two idiots have been in love for 13 years and were both too chicken and oblivious to do do anything about it, or b) their love developed slowly from the bonds of friendship over a very long time. I like both options but I decided to go with the former for this fic.

The series titles is from the song You by Keaton Henson. If you're familiar with the song - my Lost Girl buddies will be - don't worry nobody is going to die! that line just really fits them so much, and it's also about accepting the fact that you might lose the one you love but that doesn't mean you should be afraid of loving them or living your life.

. . .

OK, just gonna do a little shameless self-promotion, hope you don't mind :)

I made a yumagna vid so if you haven't seen it already and you're interested it's here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=grzrpr0QZEE (I'm gonna do more so if you want to stay in the loop subscribe to my youtube channel. I'll probs end up doing a short one for Unsteady because of this fic but I'm holding out till we get a yumagna hug)

I have an insta for yumagna called @yumagnas.home . my multifandom one is @bonnielextra (lots of awesome women that i make edits for just fyi) and my personal one is @cissyalice. Hit me up so I can follow some more yumagna stans!

My twitter is @bonnielextra and @welcometocaritas (for my edits). Currently just a lot of crying about yumagna on the first one.

And my tumblr is welcometocaritas. Obviously no pressure to look at any of these but I just thought I'd put them in just case :)

#yumagna #magniko #the walking dead #nadia hilker #eleanor matsuura #yumagna edit #yumagna fanfic #magna twd #yumiko #yumiko twd #mypost #My posts #myfic #my fic #my edit #myedit

[hmjoneswrites]

How it Started:

I sat down to write first novel without any intention of writing a novel. My head was plagued with suicidal thoughts and postpartum obsessions that made it hard to sleep at night. So I wrote. I wrote a fictional character dealing with the same shit show I was going through–being a mother to a newborn and having a brain that doesn’t work.

It turned into more than that. It turned into a fantasy-like book, unsurprisingly (because I read mostly fantasy books and have since I was six). It turned into a tale about body image, love, marriage, lust and motherhood meshed with the dark magic of a place that was a physical representation of a pain that would not stop.

When I read it back, it made me cry because it was powerful even to my own critical eyes. I knew, then, it was a book. It was a book I was ashamed of. Not because it wasn’t good. I’m actually still quite proud of how good my first novel turned out being, but because it was uncomfortably honest. It was honest in a way I was not being with those around me when I said I was fine. It was honest in a way I hadn’t been for a long time.

It was what I wanted people to know but was too ashamed to say, and it was also a little more than that-sexy, funny, strange and dark. It was a book about something important that was also kinda fun to read. For the first time in a long time I was proud of myself. I didn’t feel like a failure.

I felt like an author.

Writing a Book Does Not an Author Make:

But I wasn’t an author.  No one had read the book but me. I was terrified that someone would; at the same time, I was terrified that someone wouldn’t. Again, it was pretty freaking honest, which is scary. At the same time, I thought it was something other mothers might actually like to read, might relate to. I was attending MOPS at the time and saw women, every week, struggling with the same stuff I was going through. Most of them hid it or tried to.

I decided to try to publish the book. I queried 70 agents and 50 publishers in between caring for an infant and toddler and talking myself out of suicide. I did not know, at the time, that I was bipolar, but I knew I was not normal. I never felt normal. Putting myself out there was hard. Being rejected was harder. Don’t listen to people who say you’ll get used to being rejected. You don’t. It always sucks. You just pretend it doesn’t as you go along. It hurt every time I got back a rejection. Silence hurt just as much.

Here’s a thing you should know about me, though. Rejection has never stopped me. I started watching youtube videos, reading ebook manuals, playing with designs for a cover, reading about how to format pictures and play with free editing software. I became a student of publishing. I self-published Monochrome in 2013, two years after writing it and querying it.

It was met with a thunderous silence so loud it broke my heart and my will to do much besides feel sorry for myself. I put so much into writing it, editing it, learning to format, and setting it up to be available and even some of my best friends have still not read it. It was isolating, infuriating, and, yes, made the sanity I’d stored up, the hope I’d attached to it, dissipate like a deflating balloon.

I wrote a book, but no one would read it. I didn’t feel like an author. I felt like a fraud. And I felt betrayed for a reason I couldn’t put my finger on-like I created something for the world and no one wanted it. A bit grandiose and big-headed, I’ll admit, but my feelings were what they were and I won’t be ashamed of them now, or I’ll pretend not to be.

The Beautiful and Terrifying Reader:

Gradually, people picked it up-my sisters, my mother, my friends, at first. I particularly remember my older sister saying, “It’s so good, Hannah. And I’m so glad I liked it because I was really worried about reading your book and not liking it. But I LOVE it, so I don’t have to lie to you.”

That was both funny and the exact thing I needed to hear to get past the terrifying silence. I slowly crept out from under my embarrassment shell. I started putting the book up for awards. It won the Book Readers Appreciation Medallion in 2013. In 2015, Gravity by Booktrope (a then large Indie who has since gone out of publishing) picked it up. It became a National Indie Excellence Award Finalist in 2015, and started gaining a better readership, thanks, in large part, to the community of my Gravity imprint following. I met the wonderful Rachel Thompson, who is an inspiring author herself, helped me learn how to reach more readers. I felt competent, and, yes, I felt like an author, for the first time.

I’m still pretty bad at doing the things I need to do to reach readers-blogs, newsletters, ads, utilizing social media, etc. And you really should be good at these things to reach out, if you’re indie or self or even traditionally published. Books don’t just hop into reader’s hands, they are marketed there. And I still suck at it. But I sort of do it and I sort of have a following, six years after I started.

After Gravity by Booktrope closed its doors, the amazing Julie Anderson from Feminine Collective took Monochrome on because she loved the book and believed in it. I’d like to take a minute to thank Julie for all the effort she puts into it, into me. She and Feminine Collective support me in a way I’m still not comfortable doing myself. I continually downplay my work, my efforts (which are tiring and literally keep me up at night).

Still Crazy After All These Years

I’ve now published and self-published over 10 books in the last 6 years, and it still drives me crazy. I just finished #nanowrimo for the 5th year in a row and won with a book I’m actually sort of proud of, which, by the way, is terrifying. It means I’ll hope to be read, again, and I might not be.

I am still sitting on three novels that are mostly done that I just don’t like for this or that reason. They could be put out there to read, but they won’t be because I dislike inane things about them. I am still not brave enough to let everything go. And I’m a Gryffindor to the extreme, so that’s saying something. It still scares me to let a book go because I’m afraid it will be met with silence. And silence, indifference, is scarier, to me, than a bad review, a negative comment. I say negative stuff about my own work all the time. You can’t break my heart by not liking what I wrote. But I’m driven nuts by apathy, and I’m already a bipolar, so the drive is fairly short.

I recently wrote and published the prequel to Monochrome, Fade to Blue, because my handful of fans wanted more from Ishmael, one of the main characters, and from me. It has been met with the silence that deafens me, and, yes, that breaks my heart. Some of the fans who were gunning for it, loved it, read it and made my day. I specifically let go of Fade not because I thought it was ready but because I thought people wanted it. But maybe that is not the right approach.

Gryffindors Don’t Quit

Here’s the thing: I love writing. I like creating stories and I do it whether I write them down or not. I have no shortage of ideas for my next book. I do not suffer from writer’s block (stop throwing things at me).

I DO want people to read the things I create, but I equally enjoy the process of making them. And readership was not, when I began, my goal. I have many friends who’ve given up trying to get their work out there, and I get it. It’s a very embarrassing and somewhat disappointing process.

I’ve recently been gearing myself up to release two books this year. I’ve been trying to be better about not sitting on my work and tearing it apart. To do so, I know I need to let some of my perfectionism go.

The other thing I’m going to try, in the coming years, is writing and writing some more, without the end result being readership. I know that’s backwards. Why spend months perfecting a single novel/story only to not be upset if it gets no readers? Because I DO love writing them. I will do my best to make sure people know of them, but I will not obsess. I will be happy when people get to experience my worlds, but I will not fret if my reviews don’t pour in. I will write for the love of writing because that’s where I started.

And I was happy when I started. I was happy just to write and create, and release some of my crazy in a fun to read format.

I hope readers eventually find me, but, in terms of a career, this has been a short one, a blip compared to the lives of other authors. Gryffindors don’t quit. They keep trying no matter how risky and stupid. And I am Gryffindor to the extreme.

H.M. Jones is the author of many only slightly read books. She has a facebook, a twitter and an author page. She sometimes checks them and writes about geeky things. She’s a college instructor, a mother, and, yes, an author. Her website needs to be updated. She has a newsletter that she sucks at updating.

    Some of H.M.’s Books:

One Writer’s Journey: Gryffindors Don’t Quit How it Started: I sat down to write first novel without any intention of writing a novel.

[wyrmsandrocs]

all the ocean asks!! u can skip any that r uncomf

pearl: if you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go and why?- Hm, i really want to do a trip to see the historical stuff on the US east coast, I’d also really like to go see ruins in Rome and Greece. Aside from historical interests I just…really want to be in Oregon right now

sails: describe your perfect partner. - Someone I love who loves me too

lighthouse: how much makeup do you wear? - I usually do white or black winged eyeliner, silver + whatever my colour for the day is eyeshadow, lots and lots of mascara, and some lipstick, usually non natural colours like purple, green, or just like pastel pink. Even if i decide to forgo my eye makeup im usually wearing lipstick

shells: would you prefer to be a vampire or a werewolf? - tbh a vampire cause then I would have eternity to figure out who Agent 355 was

mermaid: most embarrassing moment? - Hoo boi okay sO. One time many years ago I was a 10 year old girl on quotev. I really really liked one direction. I clicked something I probably shouldn’t have seen because of quotevs lack of an sfw/nsfw rating system. I read a lot of these because I was confused as to what they were. Instead of forgetting all about them and deleting my account like a sane person, I sent them to my best friend at the time to get /her/ to read them. Instead of asking questions abt why the hell i was reading this shit, she found way worse and kinky ones. I was horrified. I didn’t know how to delete my web history. My dad almost found the links like 20 times

turquoise: weirdest dream you’ve ever had? - The dream where my subconscious tried to tell me i was gayyyyy. It was, again, years ago, and I thought I was straight. I had just made up my first ocs cause I was doin NaNoWriMo for the first time (spoiler alert, I made it to 50,000) and i had this dream where I met and then fell in love with my oc who was super pretty and i refused to believe I was a lesbian i just chalked it up to my sleeping brain being weird

waves: favourite season and why? - Autumn and Winter are my faves because there’s rain.

breakers: would you ever consider getting married? - Yes, definitely, but gdi why isn’t poly marriage legal yet

seafoam: describe your ideal summer vacation. - Ignore summer all together and continue school where it’s rainy

rain: if it were possible, what exotic animal would you keep as a pet? - Omg a Fennec they are my favourite little animals they are so cute. My first original story that i actually wrote down and still have was about Fennecs

sunlight: least favourite song? - The Sans version of Stronger than you

marine: would you ever consider plastic surgery? - Probably not i’m ot the hugest fan of surgery at all

sea glass: what do you consider to be your best physical feature? - Man I really love my eyes i have sectoral heterochromia so my eyes are green with stripes of deep brown.

storm: do you like piercings and tattoos? Why or why not? - I really do like them, but i probably wouldnt get any more piercings than I have, I have two on each ear, but I wear a fake nose ring cause it’s pretty. I dont love the idea of getting a tattoo cause owww im a wimp also needles are not good.

boardwalk: who is your favourite fictional couple? - I really love Wylan and Jesper from Six of Crows, also lotsa ships from other stuff but right now I’m loving my children, Aria and Sitara. My smol gay witch daughters

coral: if you had to describe your personality as a food, what would you be and why? - Super dark chocolate that gives you a headache but is also really great. I’m known for giving people headaches lmao not really. Idk why it just seems right, like I may seem sweet and nice but i am actually like the most bitter person. Or sea salt caramel. I am like super salty and bitter save me lmao

nymph: old-fashioned or modern decor? - buddy old fashioned decor is the shit 

seawater: scariest movie you’ve ever watched? - Okay it’s really stupid but Dot and the Red Kangaroo scared the /fuck/ out of me as a little kid the bunyip song was terrifying. I don’t really watch scary movies tho

siren: in a fantasy setting, would you be a warrior, rogue or mage? - Maaaaaage

tempest: your favourite Pokemon? - Eevee or Vaporeon. I also really love Vulpix

tropic: what is your least favourite thing about your appearance? - I’m p self conscious abt being not a small person height or weight wise. I used to always want to be a lot smaller so that I could just kind of disappear but recently i’ve just decided that if people are gonna notice me, they are gonna notice that i’m beautiful. It’s actually really helped my confidence which is kinda weird but i’m really glad for it

aquamarine: describe your dream date. - Staying at home watching musicals and drinking hot coco in the middle of a storm

brine: gold or silver? - Silver

tidal: what is a colour that best describes your personality? - I actually really like pinks and reds and how quickly a pink can merge to a more red colour. They both stand for love, but red is also anger

azure: what is something that you do that makes you happy? - Writing honestly. Also like i really enjoy school and learning about history and languages

fog: describe where you think you’ll be in five years. - Hopefully well into college by then, I’m still in highschool but I’m gonna add college english in the fall.

coastline: what is your favourite flower? - Violets. I really like the smell of jasmine or orange blossoms

shallows: what is your typical Starbucks order? - Venti Java Chip Frappuccino idk how to spell that tho

voyage: what are your favourite names? - I really like names related to the sea like Mara

shipwreck: do you have an OC? If so, describe them. - Okay I’m gonna tell ya abt Aria and Sitara.  Aria is a Hellenic polytheist who leans toward tarot and sigils rather than actual spell work. She’s pan and loves her gf v v much. Her parents were shit and she had to leave home as soon as she could. Her parents gave her the name Megan but she really hated it so she gos by Aria. She doesn’t really know all of her parents lineage but her mother was of middle eastern descent way back in the family that no one really remembers. She doesnt want to find out and prefers looking to the future. Sitara is an atheist and has a more traditional path. Shes bi and attractd to nb peeps and women but not men, she’s also polyam which shes v v happy her gf accepts. Her parents were better but they fell out of contact a while ago. Despite not believing in Aria’s deities, she lets her worship on her own and doesnt bother her. They met in an art store, both needing to get red ribbon for a love spell. Bonus: Aria means song and Sitara means poem

cerulean: do you believe in true love? - I do, but not just the romantic kind. I think that true platonic love is also super important.

shoreline: if you could become fluent in another language, which would you pick and why? - French because I’m trying to learn it rn and it’s a royal pain. Eventually I want to learn all the Latin based languages

tsunami: describe a dream outfit of yours. - Someday I’m gonna get cute heeled boots and wear them with tights and a skirt and like a flowy long sleeve black shirt I have and do all purple makeup this will happen someday

riptide: are you introverted or extroverted? Are you happy with this? - I’m somewhere in the middle. I love talking to my friends and like that but its also really nice to just shut down skype and tumblr and read a book, yknow?

hurricane: describe a strange habit of yours. - I tend to carefully chack all the walls and corners of a room while I’m entering it, like just look around and check for anything weird, even if I’ve been there a lot. This happens with places that feel specific ways tho, like they just have suspicious energy.

Ty so much for asking, friend! ^u^

#brook #shirt ip aa