#i will admit. most of those two hours was spent trying to figure out my word count akjfghlk

[mitsuyeaah]

Ever since I remember myself, my dad would come in our room at night with a flashlight, looking to kill mosquitoes. That's also why the white walls of our room had little bloodstains on them :)

Maybe, reader waking up accidentally to tr boys (I'll leave it to you who) trying to kill mosquitoes in the middle of the night? :>

LATE NIGHT SHENANIGANS

syn: you waking up to them trying to kill mosquitoes in the middle of the night.

TR ft. KAZUTORA, MIKEY

cw: none, just pure fluff, my men being a lil silly in the middle of the night <3 pet names (my love, baby)

a/n: hehe of course i chose your pookies!!!

₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ KAZUTORA HANEMIYA

— would definitely try to be quiet when doing it but fails because he flails too much and accidentally knocks over the lamp resting on the bedside table (thank god it’s not broken, though). kazutora would be very apologetic afterwards though for waking you up, and most likely cuddles you back to sleep before going back to killing mosquitos.

crash! the loud sound of the lamp hitting the carpeted floor jolts your body awake. with your heart racing, and head spinning from sleepiness, you looked around the dark room to see a figure putting the knocked over lamp back on the bedside table. “kazu..?” you croaked, confused as to what he was doing at this ungodly hour. he must’ve not heard you since he walked at the foot of the bed and started.. flailing his arms?

the scene in front of you was confusing. it also didn’t help how you just woke up from your sleep, and it took a lot slower for things to process in your brain. you pinched yourself a couple of times, making sure you weren’t in some kind of weird realistic dream but no, you were awake—not fully though. you watched in confusion as kazutora looked like he was chasing something. he was so focused and determined to catch whatever he had his eyes on.

when you called out his name, this time a little louder, his gaze shot over to you—clearly startled that you were awake. “did i wake you up? i’m so sorry.” he quickly walked over to your side of the bed to give your forehead a chaste kiss, smoothing the wrinkles of confusion between your knitted brows. “my love, what are you doing? it’s 2 am..” you let out a sigh of content as he tucked you back under the covers, stroking your hair.

“i was.. i was just killing mosquitoes. they’re a bothersome.” he sheepishly admitted, a hand shyly rubbing his nape. thank god it was dark in the room because he could feel his face turning a deep shade of crimson red from embarrassment of being caught in such a silly act. you looked into his citrine eyes before letting out a snort, “you’re so cute, kazu.. d’you want me to help you kill them?”

with that, kazutora was instantly reminded with one of the reasons of why he loved you so much. you never questioned his weird antics, you always matched his energy as questionable as it seemed. best believe, the two of you spent a good 10 minutes laughing and trying to catch those damned flies.

₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ MANJIRO ‘MIKEY’ SANO

— tries to be quiet but resorts to trying to catch them between his hands, so he’d have to ‘clap’ which then wakes you up and may or may not be apologetic when he does accidentally wake you up. definitely starts getting frustrated because he can’t catch them (he’s kinda short) and you just lie there and laugh at him.

clap! clap! clap! you let out a groan, your sleep suddenly being interrupted by a loud constant noise. “manjiro.. can you go look at what’s making that sound..” you mumbled as you turned to your side, trying to catch the slumber you had just a few minutes ago. manjiro didn’t respond, and the constant clapping noise was still there. groaning, you sat up from the bed and rubbed your eyes to see what was causing the annoying noise.

once your vision cleared, you were met with the view of manjiro on the other side of the bed, clapping his hands in the air as he seemed to be trying to catch something. you blinked several times, trying to convince yourself if that really was manjiro or some kind of hallucination you were seeing from the lack of sleep you had. “‘jiro..? what—what are you doing, baby?” your tone was a mix of confusion but at the same time amusement, it was such a funny sight to see him clapping his hands in the air during the middle of the night.

manjiro turned to you, “killing mosquitoes.” he let out a sigh before going back to what he was doing earlier. you watched as his head followed a mosquito, his onyx eyes locked on the target with full concentration before jumping off the ground a bit and clapping his hands together. he looked at his palms and let out a frustrated groan, by his reaction, you assumed he so successful at catching the little insect.

it was a funny sight to see him so frustrated and worked up over not being able to kill it—you couldn’t help but laugh at him. you lied back in bed, your body fully turned to him as you laughed at the man in front of you. manjiro furrowed his brows, bottom lip jutting out in a pout as he asked you what was funny, “you! you should see the way you jumped and clapped your hands.. hilarious.” you wiped an imaginary tear off the corner of your eyes and smiled up at him.

you could see the gears turning inside his head as he stood there, unmoving. “okay, i guess i do look a little silly but i just have to get rid of them because they’re so annoying.” he grumbled . you watched manjiro as he continued to try and catch the flies while you laughed at his awkward figure while trying to do so. if it were any other person laughing at him, he would’ve gotten angry but it was you, and he was completely fine with that. he liked it when you laughed anyway, even if it meant making a fool out of himself.

© mitsuyeaah

#kazutora hanemiya #sano manjiro #kazutora headcanons #mikey headcanon #kazutora imagines #mikey imagines #kazutora fluff #mikey fluff #kazutora x y/n #mikey x y/n #kazutora x reader #mikey x reader #kazutora x you #mikey x you #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers #tokrev fluff #tokrev imagines #tokrev headcanons #tokrev x reader #tokrev x you #tokrev x y/n

[hard-core-super-star]

get her back! [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x reader

summary: you and hailee try to get your relationship back on track while shooting the sunkissing music video. it’s easier said than done though, especially since the line between love and hate blurs more and more every day.

warnings: still a chaotic mix of angst and fluff; stubborn idiots finally admit their feelings but keep arguing because it's easier than figuring out how to make things work; mentions of crappy PR stunts; R being lowkey petty + hailee being absolutely clueless why; some metaphors get repetitive but it's part of the plot, i promise

wordcount: 1.6k

a/n: this is part two to one step forward, three steps back. slightly inspired by both get him back! and logical by olivia rodrigo because guts has taken over my life in the best of ways. thank you for all the love and the requests for a part two, i see you and i am eternally grateful to all of you. i love writing about these stubborn idiots and i can only hope you enjoy reading about them just as much <3

* * * * * * *

Working with Hailee and being in love with her are two very different things that should definitely not mix. Not just because it’s incredibly unprofessional but also because it’s way too easy to pretend like you’re mad at each other because of the work you’re doing and not the messy way you’re handling being back in each other’s lives.

It’s immature and stupid and somehow not surprising at all considering the way you two act around each other. You both know what you want and yet neither of you wants to be the first one to take that leap. Which just leaves you with moments like these. 

“You know what your problem is?” Hailee asks, her eyes narrowed and filled with a certain fire you can’t quite explain.

You’ve been on set for the SunKissing music video for about an hour and you’re both already at each other’s throats. The entire week has been filled with random arguments, borderline ridiculous complaints, and total radio silence on Hailee’s part about your relationship. Radio silence that should make working with her easier just like all the times before.

Instead, it’s just become the newest reason for you to push her away again. And okay, maybe you’re still pissed about the countless articles you’ve had to read about a supposed ‘love triangle’ because, for some reason, Hailee’s PR team insists on keeping the QB story running. Everyone knows it’s faker than the brunette’s heterosexuality and yet you’re still here.

Fighting for her attention like always.

You force yourself to push those thoughts away and focus back on the conversation at hand.

“You."

“No. You don’t know how to let yourself be happy.” It suddenly dawns on you that you’re not arguing about the music video choreography anymore. “You can take it out on me and on the job and on whatever else you want to make yourself feel better but don’t act like everything's always my fault. You’re the one who said you’d give me a chance and yet you’ve spent the entire week looking for reasons to push me away.”

She's right.

You both know that. 

Of course, she's right. Because at the very top of the list of reasons why Hailee Steinfeld is the most infuriating person you've ever met is the fact that she knows you. 

She understands you in ways you never thought anyone would. And it's just as terrifying as it is wonderful. 

It's exactly that mix of feelings that makes you react in the only way you know how. 

You lash out at her despite the voice in your head that tells you to suck it up and apologize before you take things too far. “So, if it’s not your fault then whose is it? I’m not the one ignoring your existence the second you leave or letting people write articles based on ridiculous lies.”

She groans, the sound so out-of-character for her it almost makes you forget about your complaints. Almost but not quite.

“Putting up with stupid rumors is part of the job, y/n. It’s nothing new so why does it bother you so much?”

The question is valid. Or at least it would be if you hadn’t made your feelings explicitly clear the day you agreed to help her with the music video. You’ve worked with her for years, most of which have been spent straddling the line between friendship and relationship, but this time was supposed to be different. 

In a way it was different. You couldn’t deny how you felt about Hailee anymore and you couldn’t act like it didn’t bother you how clueless she was still acting about it.

You swallow back your cutting remarks and instead mumble out the only thing you can think of. “You know why.”

She stares at you for a few seconds, her eyes seem to almost look through you as if she's trying to figure you out. You don’t know what she’s looking for since your feelings aren’t exactly a secret anymore. 

The silence lasts a second too long and you decide to walk away before you make things worse. It’s a move you learned from the brunette herself and one that’s driven you down this dead-end road you can’t seem to escape from.

For a second it seems like she’s going to let you go without a fight but then you feel her grip your wrist. Her hold on you is surprisingly soft like she’s wordlessly begging you to stay despite how much better it would be for both of you if you just walked away now.

Unfortunately for the logical part of your brain, you’re never able to say no to those stupidly soft hands and ridiculously warm eyes.

You turn around to face her again, trying to act like the close proximity isn’t making your mind swim with bad ideas. You’re definitely the worst actress out of the two of you but at least the brunette doesn’t comment on it.

“You’re a jerk,” you whisper, your voice lacking the usual bite it carries when you’re trying to piss Hailee off.

“I literally haven’t said anything yet.” The subtle smile on her face makes your heart skip multiple beats in the span of a few seconds.

You wait a bit before you respond, distracting yourself by shrugging her hand off your wrist so you can hold onto it instead. Hailee doesn’t rush you, seemingly understanding the storm of feelings in your head better than you do.

“I know.” You tilt your head down to avoid those brown eyes you fell for all those years ago. “That’s the problem. All you have to do is look at me and I forget all the reasons why I’m mad at you…why dating you would never work.”

“I don’t think your feelings for me are the problem, y/n.” 

You’re well aware of the way she’s redirecting the conversation back to the dumb argument you were having mere moments ago but you don’t fight against it. All you want is answers and if it takes you tearing down your walls for her so be it.

“Why? Because I’m the problem?”

“No.” Her voice is so quiet you have to force yourself to fully focus or risk missing out on her vulnerability. “It’s because I messed up so badly that you feel like you can’t trust me again.”

She’s right.

Again.

You wish you could say you were surprised.

Your silence speaks volumes, at least to her, and it’s not long before you feel her free hand nudging your face. You lean into her touch and let her tilt your head up until your eyes meet again. You don’t want to ruin the moment but the need to be witty outweighs your need for honesty. “Is this supposed to be an apology?”

The question earns you a chuckle and the sound is more than enough to ease some of the tension that’s gathered inside of your chest. “Something like that.”

She leans forward the slightest bit, giving you the chance to put space between the two of you if you want. You appreciate the gesture, and all the sweet parts of her it represents, but you’re tired of running. Tired of tiptoeing around a truth so obvious it’s painful to deny.

You lean in the rest of the way and gently press your lips against her.

It’s not exactly fear that holds you back. You’re trying to show her you want more than the fleeting moments of passion and the heated arguments. You want the real thing. Even if it means you’ll get hurt even worse in the process. Anything is better than the months you’ve spent ignoring her existence.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles against your lips. “I’m an idiot and an asshole but I really, really, want to be with you. For real this time.”

You lean back just enough to properly look into her eyes again. “Hailee-”

“I know, I know.” She silences your worries with another sweet kiss. “I thought it would be easier if we took our time with this but it was just an excuse. I don’t think I know how to be with you if we’re not arguing about something stupid all the time.”

“That’s because you’re immature,” you reply with the tiniest of smirks on your face. “And an idiot. And annoying in all the best ways.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

This time you're the one who laughs. It's insane how quickly you can go from total sincerity to playful jabs at each other. If you're being honest though, that's exactly why you love her. Because neither of you has to hold back around the other, even when it's infuriating.

“It’s supposed to be me telling you I’m okay with taking things at your pace. As long as you stop acting like we’re just friends.”

“You don’t want to be my friend? I’m heartbroken, baby.”

“I’m going to leave if you don’t stop.”

“Okay, okay. I’m kidding. But what do you want to be? Just so we’re on the same page ‘cause-”

You roll your eyes and shut her up with your lips. You have a feeling that’s exactly what she wanted you to do but you’re not about to complain. Especially when it results in her wrapping her arms around you and pulling you close.

You don't have all the answers you wanted, and there's still a lot the two of you have to figure out, but one thing is obvious. You're in this together. No matter how much you annoy the other or how scary it is to be completely honest after years of lies.

She's with you. For real, for real.

#hailee steinfeld x reader #hailee steinfeld x female reader #hailee steinfeld x you #hailee steinfeld x y/n #hailee steinfeld fic #hailee steinfeld fluff #hailee steinfeld imagine #hailee steinfeld fanfiction #hailee steinfeld #hawkeye #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #wlw #wlw fic #writing #if you made it this far: stream guts by olivia rodrigo

[margumis]

For requests... how about

Megumi introduces reader to his friends and Gojo. He is making a big deal about it bc he knows how they can be and that they will probably embarrass him and make reader who is an introvert too uncomfortable.

But like in a fluffy, funny way

- simpdox (its a side blog so I have to ask in anon but tag me if/when you wrote it! Plss)

a/n: okay so I was trying to figure out what kind of setting to do for this, and I was conflicted about reader being from the Kyoto school but I just found out they're about 6 hours apart! so, reader is a regular Tokyo civilian. Ending kinda sucks in my opinion but I literally could not figure out the right way to end it.

here you go @simpdox ! <3

You were seated shot-gun next to your boyfriend of three months as he drove the two of you to a small outdoor lunch place you hadn't tried before to meet his two close friends. Truthfully you were excited, Megumi on the other hand was... worried to say the least.

Nobara and Yuuji could be overbearing, loud, annoying, overwhelming, and idiots to say the least, and you, well you are quieter, overwhelmed easily most times, and too kind to admit the latter to those overwhelming you. Megumi didn't want to ever make you feel those uncomfortable feelings so he kept putting off you meeting Yuuji, Nobara, and especially Gojo.

Ideally you could meet them each one at a time, or maybe never meet Gojo. Yet it didn't workout like that.

"You know we really don't have to go today, I could tell them you don't feel good and I can take you home"

"Meg. I am excited to meet your friends and you aren't changing my mind"

"I just want you to be comfortable and they're really loud and talk way too much, and I can barely handle it sometimes so why would I put that on y-"

"Baby, I understand where you're coming from, but I don't mind people like that, sometimes it's just nerve racking trying to make a good first impression"

"You'll be great, considering they like me, you basically already passed"

You both laughed and you changed the topic to avoid the anxiety building in your chest. You spent the short remainder of the ride mentally rehearsing every scenario and every outcome.

When you arrived it was hard to miss where the two were seated.

"FUSHIGURO WE'RE OVER HERE!!!" Yuuji yelled from ten feet away as if you two couldn't see his pink spikes from a mile away.

Nobara was the first to jump up and greet you. "Oh my god" "You're y/n" "You're so beautiful" She was immediately embracing you and taking you in. "Your jeans, they fit so well where did you get them? Are they tailored?" You were racking your brain, why didn't I think about this possibility. "Uh, I think they're thrifted, just a lucky find" you spouted out hoping you told her the truth, "I can check the brand for you?". Nobara smiled at you, "You could do me one better, and one day me and you go shopping together".

You paused mentally, she was making plans with you so soon, how could she know if you liked you already? Was she just saying things? God she seems like the kind of girl who already has a million pairs of perfect jeans. All you could do was smile and tell her that it sounded great, while your mind was ticking away at whether or not she already thought you were cool.

Yuuji who greeted Megumi first, finally turned and him and Nobara swapped greeting positions.

"You're y/n!!!"

"You're Itadori!"

"Does Fushiguro ever talk about me? No. Better question? You really like him right? He really likes you and has been talking about you for like six months. Head over heels. Puppy love, he's never talked about someone so much. I feel like a proud dad".

You blushed at Yuuji's statements, "Really he's been talking about me before we were even together?"

"Wait what? He's talked about you like he already put a ring on it since the first the first time he mentioned you"

Megumi who was still by your side seemed a little peeved at the leak of information and was the first to suggest you all sit down at the table they had gotten for you all.

You all continued talking, Nobara and Yuuji asking an array of "get to know you questions" and Megumi sat there holding your hand firmly to remind you he was there.

It truly wasn't bad. They were both incredibly kind to you, they even took an interest to ask you about what you ordered, they would've gotten to know your whole family history if it was socially acceptable.

The afternoon was filled with laughter, eating, Yuuji seeing if he could chug a glass of pink lemonade, Nobara shamelessly cheering him on, and Megumi watching in slight disgust, slight amazement. It was nice, especially when you and Megumi caught moments to have your own conversations when the other two went off on their own bickerings.

"I like your friends honey"

"They like you too, you doing okay?"

"Yeah I'm actually good"

Megumi took the brief moment of false privacy to kiss your forehead when Nobara and Yuuji yelled,

"WHOA PDA POLICE" "GET A ROOM" "THIS IS SICKENING"

They both busted out laughing at their antics and Yuuji reassured you they were only joking and that "He's so proud to watch his son fall in love".

"You know it's super rude to be on your phone while getting lunch with people"

"I'm just texting Gojo"

Megumi's feelings of relief were completely washed away, "What about"

"Oh well I sent him a picture of my food and then he got sad no one invited him to lunch so I sent him the address".

All Megumi could do was push his face into his palms and pray.

"Speak of the devil", Nobara exclaimed as a freakishly tall white haired man made his way toward your table.

You whispered to Megumi, "How the hell did he get here so fast??"

And before you knew it he was stealing a chair from another table and making room for himself at the end of the table. "Where you guys talking about me?" A sly grin adorning his features as he pushed his sunglasses down to inspect you. "I don't know you, right?"

"That's Megumi's girlfriend Gojo sensei!" Yuuji chirped.

The man looked like he was going to have a stroke right then as he processed the news, and then wiped a faux tear from his eyes mentioning something about Megumi growing up too fast as he whipped out his cellphone to take an off-guard picture of the two of you.

"Delete that please" Megumi looked defeated by the situation, and you were still confused by who the hell this guy was.

"I'm being rude aren't I? I'm Satoru Gojo, I'm these three's teacher and Megumi's amazing adoptive father"

"That's not how I'd put it"

"Oh he loves me don't let his attitude fool you! Here look at these!". Gojo then showed you an array of pictures of Megumi as a child, in all of which he looked extremely displeased with the man behind the camera. By now Megumi's face was turning red with embarrassment as he watched you giggle at every single picture of him in Gojo's arsenal.

"God Fushiguro you've always been this grouchy?", Nobara asked.

"He's my little grouchy boy that's what I like to call him"

"You've never once called me that"

"His memory must be slipping" Gojo swatted his hand in front of his face and leaned back and sighed, "Well I gotta go, I totally left work just for this"

Before you knew it he was gone and you were confused and pondering why he never even asked your name. Megumi on the other hand was paying his half of the check and preparing to get the hell out of here.

"They were nice you know"

He was still visibly a bit irritated with the Gojo situation as he started the car, but he was glad you were okay at the end of it.

"I got Nobara's number, we might go out one day I think"

He smiled at that, knowing you quickly left a lasting impression on his friends and he admired you for how easily you could do that, and recalled how easily you had the same effect on him.

#jujutsu kaisen megumi #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x reader #yuuji itadori #nobara kugisaki #gojo saturo #megumi fluff #megumi headcanons #megumi x reader

[shadowbriar]

Fred Weasley - Outgrown

Pairing : (F/M) || Fred Weasley x Reader Word Count : 2.9k Warning : Arguments. Fred being a dick. Prompts : “I’d ask but judging by the look on your eyes, I can already tell that you’ve closed our chapter.” Notes : I’m sorry it took forever for me to post it. It’s a rather challenging request, I have to admit. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

Time is a thorny thing to understand. One minute she’d wish to freeze it, pack it in a box and keep it under her bed to visit every once in a while. The other time she wished it would pass faster than the beat of her heart, unable to stand and watch as the situation unpacks right before her eyes. But most of the time, she wished that she could go back and relive the moments where things felt perfectly in place.

She’s spent every ticking of the clock each night to figure out when things started to crumble. When was the last time his hands felt perfect in hers? When was the last time his words sent blissful jolts to her spine? When was the last time his smile and laughter fueled her heart with delight? But those questions slowly turn into what. What happened? What made them strain this way? What did she do? What did he do?

His side of the bed has long been cold. As cold as the forced smiles he mercifully showed her in the mornings. There were never giggles and playful teasing by the kitchen anymore, no cuddles on the weekends as they watch some muggle movies they try so hard to understand. It was as if every blissful memory they had was a mere imagination. 

And now she has her eyes glued on him, hands busy trying to refill the stock of Nosebleed Nougat. The sight of him flirting with a customer no longer hurts her, only made her wonder more on what exactly happened between them. He was leaning on the wall, hands folded to his chest as he made the girl giggles and blushes. She wonders if he told her the same compliments and jokes he once did to her back in their school year.

“Excuse me, Miss?” Someone called, tapping on her shoulder lightly “I can’t seem to find the Bruise Removal Paste. Could you please show me where it’s stored?”

She smiles, putting away the box of Nosebleed Nougat, “Of course, Sir. Please follow me.”

Walking the young gentleman to the other aisle, she warmly shows the new placed stock of said paste. The man took his time to look for the right product, as there were plenty of varieties to choose from. She studies him quietly, reckoning that he’s not much older than her.

He takes two different kinds of pastes and shows it to her, “Which do you suppose would be best for quidditch bruises?”

“Either would work just fine.” She answers and takes one of the potions from the shelf “But if you want the fastest result I suggest you get one of these potions, too. Guaranteed healings within the hour.”

The man takes the potion on her hand and blushes when their skin makes contact.

She notices the flustered gesture the man made and quickly takes a step back, not wanting to give any wrong impressions. Clearing her throat, she flashes a faint smile, “Would that be all, Sir?”

“Unless you sell bludgers and other quidditch equipment too now, then I suppose that would be all.”

“Right,” She says with a smile “Let me help you check out, then.”

She walks to the cashier with the man trailing her from behind. She quickly scans his shopping bag, noticing the nervous gesture the man was radiating. His eyes were glued on her, she could tell. It wasn’t that he was making her uncomfortable, he was kind really, yet getting the attention of another man than Fred felt like a very strange thing to feel.

“Love, I think George called for you.” Fred says, appearing out of nowhere as he slides a hand to her waist “I can continue this gentleman’s purchase. Why don’t you go and see what it is that George needs.”

She raised an eyebrow, knowing full well that George was still in his lunch break, “That’s alright, I’m about to finish. I’ll see what George needs right after.”

“Love,” Fred calls once more, this time with a firm tone as if he’s trying to maintain his anger “I think it would be best if you go and see him now.”

She stares at Fred with an irritated look before turning to the customer and flashes him an apologetic smile. She walked away from the cashier, letting Fred to continue the purchase. This would be the very first time she’s ever seen him get jealous. Sure the man was trying to hit on her, but she was only showing mere hospitality as what other shopkeepers would do. She wasn’t the one flirting and whispering rubbish to the customers just so they would giggle and buy one of their love potions.

The change in Fred’s attitude baffles her. It was as if he’d turned into a completely different person. Someone he knows for certain that she wouldn’t like, let alone love. As if he adopted all the traits she hates in a guy and dumped it as his new personality.

Exactly what happened to him?

—-

She turns off the stove as the kettle whistles, pouring the hot water to the teapot as she waits for the teabags to seep in. It has been a long day, physically and emotionally draining her. Fred had never asked her to come and help with the joke shop during the weekends, but with her tight schedule at the Ministry and him being so occupied with running and inventing new products, she really didn’t have much choice on the ways they could spend their time with.

At first helping at the joke shop was fun. George would always sulk and make commentaries on how their romantic display wouldn’t be good for business, making them rub their romance harder on his face. Yet for the past few months, her presence has been neglected as nothing but a mere extra hand. Even George was starting to show his concern about their relationship, something she always brushes off with white lies.

The closing of the front door was heard as Fred walked in, hand busy trying to set loose his tie. His hair was dishevelled, looking tired and stressed as he’s always been for the past few weeks. She wasn’t sure what it is that’s frustrating him as the shop seems to be skyrocketing. Perhaps another thing is occupying his mind.

“Would you like some tea?” She asks, making her presence known “I just brewed some.”

Fred shakes his head, “No, I’m alright.”

She nods, not uttering another word.

He proceeds to get inside their room, perhaps about to get a hot shower to wash away his tiredness. She taps her fingers on her mug, thinking of the stark contrast of the condition of their relationship now to how it once was. There were no kisses, no pet names called, and certainly no “I love you”s echoing through the flat each time he returns from work. It was as if there was nothing of their relationship left.

Before she could take a sip of her tea, Fred came back out of the bedroom, brows furrows and hands folded in front of his chest, “What were you doing?”

She knits her brows, “What do you mean?”

“Earlier, at the shop.” He says, tone laced with accusation “You were flirting with that man.”

“I was not.”

“Yes, you were, and don’t deny it because I saw it with my own eyes.” Fred hisses, taking steps closer to the kitchen table now “You were acting all shy, blushing and all as you talk to that man. What, is he your new boyfriend now?”

“What- Are you drunk, right now? You’re talking nonsense!” She argues, feeling anger boiling up her veins from the accusation “I was just being nice. Isn’t that what shopkeepers are supposed to do? Being nice?”

Fred chuckles mockingly, “You were much more than being nice, Love. You’re practically begging for him to take you home.”

Her jaw dropped, surprised and hurt from his commentary. A hint of regret was visible on his face right after he uttered the words but it’s obvious that his head was red raw. Fred was angry and jealous. A combination she has never seen before.

“I’m not going to fight you over nonsense like this.” She says short, trying her best to keep a cold head and walks away from her seat.

“Yeah? Go on and walk away. See if I have any care for whatever this is we have.”

“You know what, fine, let’s talk!” She yells back “You don’t get to act all jealous and be angry at me when you’ve been such a flirt yourself, alright! You want to talk about today? Sure, let’s talk about today. You don’t get to stand there and act all saintlike when you’ve flirted with girls all day, Fred Weasley. The only reason you stopped was because your ego was hurt that someone actually tried to come and talk to me.”

Fred’s face was red, “I was not flirting with anyone.”

“Yeah? Then what do you call whispering rubbish to some random girls and making them blush on the corners of the shop?”

“The same thing you said to me earlier, I was just being nice to a customer.”

“Don’t give me that bull, Fred. You know there’s a stark difference between our customer care.” She spat, eyes starting to get glassy "Those girls were flirting with you and you entertain them still. How is it that I helped a man checkout their bag and I'm suddenly the villain?"

A tear fell from her eyes, making Fred to wince a little at the severity of their fight right now.

"I'm only doing my job. Unlike you who happen to be more engrossed in humouring our customers than to actually make them pay for our products." She continues, wiping her tears away with her jumper sleeve “You know, Fred. I try so hard to make it work for us, to have as much time as possible around you. I spend my weekends at the shop, hoping to be closer with my boyfriend yet all I’ve been getting is the sight of him being comfortable with strangers.”

"Nobody asked you to work here, alright. Nobody asked for your help!" Fred yells, his volume getting louder and louder “Maybe if you would just stop being so clingy and live your own god damn life, I wouldn’t have to try so hard to flee out of your grasp.”

She gasps at Fred’s venomous words. His sentences felt like blaring thunder, deafening her eardrums and making her head ring in pain. Her tears are now flowing hard, soaking her cheeks. Never had Fred raised his words before, let alone spat the words that felt like whips to her trembling heart.

Her loud sob seems to have awakened him from his rage. Facial features softened as he tried to reach her hands, “Love, I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

She didn’t let him finish his words. She walks fast to their bedroom, taking her wand and her purse. She can’t be with him right now. She needs to be alone.

“Love, what are you doing?” Fred asks, his tone laced with fear as he watches her pack a few of her clothes “Where are you going?”

She didn’t answer. The only noise echoing in their room was her little sniffles, still trying her best to stop the tears from flowing. Her fingertips were shaking from the heartbreak but she had to continue, she needed to get out of that place before more hurtful words spilled and heard. There’s only so much a girl could take in one night.

Before she could walk past him, Fred took her hand and looked at her with pleading eyes, “Where are you going?”

“I swear to Merlin Fred, if you don’t let me go now we both are going to suffer and regret the night for the rest of our lives.” She says with a voice cracking in sadness “Let me go.”

With reluctance he finally let go of her hands. He watches as she leaves their flat, front door closing ever so slowly and blocking his sight of her. The silence of the apartment now becomes haunting, the sound of his heart beating fast inside his chest seems to be the only thing gripping him to reality.

What has he done?

—-

She takes a deep breath as she opens the front door, taking a step inside the flat she once called home. Everything was slightly out of place. Shoes scattered on the floor, dirty dishes by the sink, and laundry piled up by the corner. It looks like he hasn’t got the time to take care of himself.

It’s been a few weeks since she left. She hasn’t heard a word nor seen him since. A part of her was grateful that he’s giving her the time and space to retreat yet a bigger part of her is still hurt over the fact that Fred might not even care about her at all. Perhaps her absence was something he rejoices. He did say that she was being too clingy.

Now she walks to what once was their bedroom and finds her suitcase. She flicks her wand, making her clothes to find their spot in the luggage. She walks to the bedside table and packs her other belongings. Makeup, jewelleries, and other trinkets that were hers are now placed into her other bag. Packing up her possessions clean as if they were never there in the first place.

Before her things were neatly tucked into her bags, she could hear the front door being opened and closed. She lets out a sharp breath, not expecting him to have returned that early. Fred has never come back to his flat during his lunch break, so why would he be here now?

“Love?” 

She heard his voice echoing, noticing that someone was inside the flat. His footsteps were followed not long after, appearing by the bedroom door. The smile that was growing on his face turns into a tight line within seconds as he sees her packing her belongings. He takes a gulp from the fear washing over him.

“Fred,” She calls softly, tone unsure on how to address the situation “You’re home early.”

He nods lightly, not saying a word and looking like he’s trying to digest the situation happening before his eyes.

“Would you like some tea?”

She wanted to facepalm herself. Tea? Is that the best she could come up with?

Fred smiles lightly, nodding, “Sure.”

And so she walks to the kitchen, Fred following from behind like a lost puppy. She could see from the short glimpse of him that he too has been miserable. He doesn’t dress as neat and scholarly as he loved to dress for the shop. He was only wearing a shirt that looks like it hasn’t been ironed, an unmatched tie and a coat that she knew was his least favourite. She wonders if George nags him for not following their agreed upon twinning dress code.

The wait for the kettle to boil seems to be forever. She didn’t dare to turn and look at Fred, afraid that she might break the fortress she so hard tried to build over the last few days. She didn’t even expect to see him in person today. What exactly could she do but to look away from him?

“I’d ask but judging by the look on your eyes, I can already tell that you’ve closed our chapter.” 

She lets out a pitiful chuckle, looking down to her palms, “Haven’t you been the one that closed it first, Fred?”

Fred didn’t answer. She could hear his shuddering exhale, seemingly accepting the farewell that’s bound to happen any second now. She wanted to go and hug him, tell him that everything will be alright and that this storm will pass with ease, but moving her feet felt like an impossible task to do. She too needed an assurance.

“I’m sorry.” He says weakly, voice trembling as he tries his best to not cry “I hope you can forgive me one day.”

She turns to face him, fighting her tears, “What happened with us, Fred?”

“I don’t know.” He says sadly, eyes glued on her “Perhaps we’ve outgrown each other.”

She nods, letting out a sigh.

“I still love you.” Fred confessed genuinely, his features softened “I just don’t know why I haven’t shown it the way I should have. There’s just so many things I have to do, so many things I have to think about, and I’m sorry that you have to be the one I put least in my priority.”

“I love you too, Fred.” She sighs, coming closer to him and resting her hand to his cheek “But perhaps it’s time for us to figure things out on our own. Maybe one day, when we’ve found what we’re looking for, if the universe permits, we will cross paths again and love each other better.”

A tear finally left his eyes. Fred begins to sob, nodding at the mutual agreement of their parting. He pulled her close, resting his face into the crook of her neck. He would miss her embrace, her comforting scent and the warmth of her words that he once called home. Never had he imagined a time when he would have to say goodbye to her, where he has to live in a reality where she’s not by his side. Yet the milk’s spoiled and hurtful words have been uttered. Now all that is left for Fred to do is find the good in goodbye.

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley scenario #fred weasley angst #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x oc

[iamsherlocked1479]

Something more

Pairing: Dr Strange x f!Reader

Summary: y/n is a student getting ready for a christmas party at kamar-taj and a certain sourcer takes a special interest in her.

Word count: 2.8K words

Genre: meeting at a party, smut, aingst/18+

Warnings: NSFW, eating out, sexual content, swearing

A/N: well I haven't written smut in a while so i wanted to, thought i'd male it festive as its the festive season. Enjoy!

The halls to the sanctum had been decorated perfectly, you didn’t know what made it perfect but it just was. How the sourcers had made an over five hundred year old temple look like the modern christmas winter wonderland it had become must have been, well, sorcery. The walls were dimly lit by thousands of tiny Christmas lights and the snow was pushed neatly into piles with tiny snowmen guarding the paths. Kamar-taj itself has become the perfect winter destination, and for a young apprentice it would be the perfect party to end the year. 

Your breath escaped into the cold air as you leant out your chamber window admiring the work of the masters. You turned to examine the dress you had picked out specifically to wear tonight, the theme was obviously christmas and while you were not always the most Christmassy dresser during the season you finally settled on a bright scarlett dress that made the oceanic sapphires of your eyes really pop. You weren’t willing to openly admit it but you were hoping the dress would help you get laid, it had been six full months since you had any intimate contact with anyone. Well technically it was five years and eight months but you could discount the five years of being blipped and two months of realising literally anyone close to you had either moved away or sadly passed.

That's exactly what led you here, you bumped into Master Wong on the way out of the cemetery after spending two hours crying over the loss of your mother, which of course was expected. You remember exactly how he responded to a teary eyed girl smacking right into him and his less amused friend, who also happened to be a respected master (but that information will be discussed later), he wasn’t angry or offended like his accomplice. He was quite the opposite, forgiving and welcoming, offering you a place in kamar-taj to learn the ways of mystic arts. Of course at first you insisted you’d be fine and didn’t need to be part of any cults on the other side of the world, but after a rough night of heavy drinking and a questionable looking one night stand curiosity got the better of you and here you are six months later hoping an expensive dress will get you laid. 

But by the looks of it, it was exactly what it was designed for. When women look at it, they imagine how it will make their figure look or boobs pop. But this dress, this was the kind of dress that caught the attention of men who would spend the whole night calculating how easy it would be to get off. If it was the kind of dress that would allow them to slip their hand between your thighs or if it would allow them quick access to the goods in the bathroom. And yes, yes it did all of those things and that's exactly why your touched deprived ass decided to pick that dress, hopefully it didn’t attract the attention of the elders.

You spent a couple hours showering and preparing your makeup while waiting for your two friends to knock on your door and when they did their eyes widened.

“Oh my god y/n that dress is stunning look what it does for your figure!” they both gasped 

“Well that's kind of the idea.” you say awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck. You follow the snowmen down the path to where the sounds of laughter and fancy versions of Christmas music echoed from the warmly lit courtyard. The large wooden doors were pulled open by magic revealing small fires neatly placed everywhere trying to regain some heat. Most people were huddled in small groups discussing the year or plans they had made for the holidays. Instinctively you and your friends went to the boys of your group who were already there, grabbing a glass of champagne from one of the passing servers. You saw the effect of your dress working, Thomas, one of your close friends eyed you constantly as the group laughed. Maybe he would be tonight's main course, without expecting you had already drained your first drink. 

“Excuse me.” you wave your hand at the passing servant who completely blanks you as she heads straight for Wong who was busy hugging someone who awkwardly hugged back. You follow the servant towards them who continues to blank you as you try to stop them.

“Strange! I wasn’t expecting you this evening.” Wong cheered. He pulled back revealing Master Strange, protector of the New York sanctum who looked like a child whose mother had forced him to appear at the family dinner.

“Excuse me” you mutter again to the servant who still paid no attention to you.

“Well I knew if i didn’t come tonight i would be forced to come to the new years eve party.” he paused while taking a drink from his cup. “Excuse me, madam, will you please give the young lady her drink so she can stop circling us.” he asked the server who stood confused looking around for who he was talking about. “For god's sake, allow me.” he tutted and grabbed a champagne glass and began heading in your direction, you froze, panicking, you didn't want to interrupt them, you just wanted a drink. He held out the glass to you and smiled “what's a girl gotta do to get a drink around here huh.” he smiled. You took the drink cautiously and then said the worst possible thing could have happened.

“You're welcome” you say taking the drink from his hand, what the hell was that? walk away, walk away now. You turned and swifty made your escape keeping your eyes locked on your friend Lauren who witnessed the whole thing, she found it quite the comedy show. You hide your face in her shoulder as she laughed

“Oh my god , there goes my chances of shadowing one of the most experienced members of the mystic arts.” you say drowning in your own shame.

“Hey at least your dress is working.” she points out the way that Strange’s eyes had not left your figure since your embarrassing encounter.

“Yeah but he’s at least ten years older than me.” You watched him closely.

“Older men have experience.” she nudged you playfully and you both laughed. 

The evening progressed rather smoothly, with the servants finally focusing on others so your supply of champagne was never low. Your eyes would occasionally drift over to the more experienced sourcers who’s laughter echoed through the courtyard and every time it did, Stange’s eyes would somehow find their way to you and your scarlet dress. You wondered what it would be like for him to fuck you, he looked like the kind of man who knew what he was doing and would definitely waste no time in removing your dress. But maybe that's what he put out to the world, perhaps he was the complete opposite, and would spend his time exploring every inch of your body, either way you would be happy to find out. Like Lauren said he would for sure have the experience of an older man.

By now your taste for champagne had grown weak and you yearned for something with more of a kick, your eyes averted to the bar and most importantly the stools, your shoes were devouring your feet and you could only take so much. You slump down into the stool and let out a subtle sigh of relief.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asked, placing a glass down he had been polishing.

“I think she’ll have water.” a deep husky voice answered for you, you turned to see master Strange leaning on the bar next to you smiling softly at the bartender who looked at you for a reply.

“I’m sorry what gives you the right” You say mildly offended

“I just watched you down four champagnes in one hour” he smirked.

“And what's stopping me from going to get another one now?” you both look at the server who stood in the doorway at the opposite side of the room.

“Absolutely nothing.” he did the same annoying smirk again before nodding his head to the door “go on.”

“That's besides the point why do you get to stop me?” you ask insulted, he gently grabbed your arm and pulled himself closer to your ear and spoke softly.

“Because when I ask you to come home with me so I can take that dress off you, I’d like you to be conscious so I don't feel guilty.” His tone released a swarm of butterflies into your gut and your mouth grew dry. You call over the bartender

“Two waters please.” The bartender nodded and placed two water glasses in front of the two of you and left you to your conversation.

“So I guess my friend was correct, you have been staring at me all night.” You take a small sip of the cold water whilst watching Strange run his long dexterous fingers around the rim of his glass wiping the condensation forming at the sides.

“I also wanted to apologise for being so rude when we met a few months ago, I was the guy who seemed more than irritated when you bumped into us ( I told you we’d get to that.)” You hadn’t listened to a word he said. Your sole focus was imaging what his fingers could do and why he had such large scars running down them. “Like i said, i’m sorry” he rubbed your shoulder gently snapping you out of your trance.

“No worries, I'm sorry the laughter of strangers is completely throwing me off.” you laugh swallowing the last of your drink.

“Then let's get some air.” He held out his hand and you gladly took it.The cold air hit you both sharply causing him to act in the most gentlemanly way. “You must be cold in that dress, here.” He removed his jacket revealing how well his white shirt fitted around his unexpected muscular frame, fitting perfectly around his tall stature. In that moment you took in Master Strange his grey stripes that highlighted each side of his hairline and how his goatee was neatly trimmed. You wandered if when and if he went down on you you would feel the roughness of his head between you.

“Thank you” you finally answer. You head to the balcony where it's quiet, “It’s beautiful” You were right the full moon casted its bright light over the crowded city of Tibet, the usually busy daytime was tamed and quiet during the night.

“I used to come up here to practise my spells” He said, eyeing the view. You look at him curiously trying to imagine what he was like, surely a master this experience caught on almost instantly. He noticed you staring and did the same smiling smugly.

“What?” you ask

“Nothing, just admiring the view. God my coat looks amazing on you, it really completes the look. A perfect addition on my part.” He brushed your shoulders, wiping off the snow that was begging to fall softly around you. Your eyes locked on his soft pink lips, wondering how they’d taste. An unexpected force brought you together, lips locking as his tongue entered your mouth. Your eyes closed as he pulled you in wrapping his arms around your body, you felt a sudden wave of warmth. You opened your eyes to the sight of the warm  quiet aura of the New York sanctum, unlike the rest of the sanctums it hadn’t been decorated with christmas decorations. It was just the same old sanctum and something about that felt calm and organised.

“So I assume you’re not the festive kind of man Strange?” you aks chuckling slightly

“I find holidays and parties distract people from their work.” He said walking to the fireplace and lighting it with ease. “And it's Stephen by the way, I figured if you wanted to spend the night you might as well know my name. That is if you want to.” he sat comfortably in an armchair crossing his leg securely over the other.

“If i didn’t then i would have got another champagne, and i think you should know that my name is y/n.” you smile flirtatiously and slide his jacket off your shoulders. You throw it towards him and he jumps regaining consciousness after watching you glide into the chair opposite him. “So tell me Stephen do you often bring women home after eyeing them all evening?” you circulate your fingers on the arm of the chair smiling at his face watching them glide over the seams.

“Quite the opposite, I only came because I have to show my face every year at least once or they start to think I'm dead. And if i didn't come to this one i think Wong would have brought the party to me.” he laughed

“I wouldn't have minded it.” you got up and walked over to him and pulled him up. Your mouths locked once again, only this time he ran his arms up to the zip of your dress, you followed his actions and began working on each button of his silk white shirt. He pulled away and opened a portal to his room and you both pushed each other to the bed laughing and joking. You step out of your dress and lay down on the bed watching him undress and thats when you realised you where about to make love for the first time, of course you’d fucked before but that was just your body. Now it was so much more you wanted this to be with your heart, your heart had never been involved with the other men before. You could only hope that he was putting more than his body into this as well. All of your thoughts disappeared when he began his work on you he started at you lips before moving down to your neck sucking on the sweet spot allowing a small moan to escape from your lips, his own purrs sent a ripple down your spine as he moved down you your breasts, the bristles of his goatee tickled you nipples,he moved across them but quickly moving down your abdomen to the centrepiece of you body. His eyes darkened with lust as he removed your black panties

“My, Myn y/n. Look at how wet you are for me already” he growled before diving in between your folds twirling his tongue around your delicate clit. He began to light a fuse within you drawing you closer and to a climax.

“Oh fuck Stephen keep doing that, i’m going to cum.” you moan. He pulled away with a devilish smile.

“I don't want you to cum until my cock is deep inside you.” He pulled off his trousers revealing his neatly groomed thick cock that slapped fully erect onto his abdomen. He grabbed you ankles and pulled you to the edge of the bed where he stepped off and plunged himself deep into you. His cock filled every one of your walls until he was balls deep within you, the answer to the question you asked yourself earlier was slowly being revealed he fucked you hard with passion unlike you had ever felt before and it was amazing. He wrapped his arms around your thighs somehow managing to increase the pleasure into a whole new level.

“F-fuck, fuck me Stephen Strange.” You could feel your walls tightening around him as your breathing became irregular and the spark ignited again.

“Oh fuck darling I love the way your pussy tightens around my cock when you cum.” he fucked you through your orgasm moaning along with you. His pace began to grow irregular until he became close to his own climax. He stuttered and pulled himself from you and released hot white ropes onto your stomach slouching over you. He summoned up a cloth and wiped his mess of you and laid next to your paralysed self, exhausted from the events that had unfolded. “I’m not done with you yet, I want you to stay. I want to taste you again.” moved his hand reaching out to stroke your head that you had placed on his stomach. 

“If you insist” you smile and sit over his face and grip the head board as he begins his feast. His goatee brushed against your folds causing you to bite down tightly with your teeth on the oak headboard of his bed. The pair of you moaned and fucked for the next few hours stopping breifly to eat. 

By morning you lay in his arms watching the rise and fall of his chest, the warmth from his body awakened something you hadn't felt since before Thanos. It was a sense of safety and belonging, you had already made your mark in his life, the bite marks of his headboard were a clear example, but the way he held you in his arms was a clear sign that this wouldn’t just end up being a one night stand.

It was something more.

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

Tag list: @pinkcrystal44 @summer-is-0v3r @lady-rose-moon

#dr strange x you #dr strange x reader #dr strange smut #dr stephen strange #marvel fanfic rec #marvel smut #benedict cumberbatch x female!reader #benedict cumberbatch #Spotify

[deliciousbasementtrash]

Hopes and Dreams

Artist credit:  201224 by exellero on ArtStation.

Summary: you are a new Goddess: Hope. You were made for one of the Endless siblings if not all of them, and humanity. You must figure out which sibling you were made for. But what if they don’t want you?

In this chapter, you have a existential crisis under the stars. You also provide some inspiration to Dream. 

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x F!Goddess Reader, Dream x OC Reader  

Warning: Dream being Dream

Word Count: 2185

Note: This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be

Masterlist Series Link

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four 

Part Five: Under the Dancing Stars 

It was not difficult to establish my routine in the Dreaming. In the mornings I would have tea with Merv and Lucienne. They would discuss with me matters in the Dreaming that needed tending to. In the afternoon I would tend to the needs they discussed. Often when I tended to those needs the residents of the Dreaming would flock to me. They would tell me about their day, and slowly they would ask me to share my gift with them. I always found it so interesting that Dreams and Nightmares use so much Hope and Pain in their work. It was a wonder to me how they haven’t burnt out in the centuries before. 

In the evenings I would tend to the humans. Sometimes with Dream, sometimes with Death. Dream was always so diligent. We were on a strictly timed schedule and had to get through a set amount of dreamers in a night. It was work that kept me and my mind busy. 

So busy that I hadn’t realized that I spent four years in the Dreaming until Death brought it up. She joked about Dream and her sharing custody of me and switching every thirty years, and Dream only had twenty-six left with me. 

Four years. 

That number replayed in my mind as I lay in Fiddler’s Green. The grass was warm against my skin, and the night air smelled of lilac and jasmine. I stared up at the starred sky and thought about how much I have done with my existence. More so about all that I had not done. Humans had such a short amount of time to accomplish the things they wished. The very things I felt them Hope for, Dream for. I felt the Pain they felt when their Hopes and Dreams did not come true. Or worse, they did come true, but they were lost soon after. I was the driving force behind those emotions. 

My thoughts turned in my head. 

Was it cruel of me to put Hope in peoples’ hearts and minds? Would they be better off without Hope in the first place so that they did not feel the Pain that came with it? 

Their lives are so short… do they have time for Hopes and Dreams? 

I felt a person lay down next to me; I did not turn my eyes away from the stars. 

“Cori, I am not in the mood to be bullied at present,” I say, my eyes still not moving. 

“What troubles you, Little Goddess?” That voice. The voice that I could listen to for hours on end. The very voice that seemed to calm my soul, ignite it, and challenge it,  all at once. 

I broke my prolonged stare with the sky and found myself inches apart from the King of Dreams. I looked at his hair, his eyes, his lips, his neck. Slowly I trailed my eyes upward. 

“I feel as though I am not doing enough for the humans… or that I am doing too much to them,” my eyes found a spot on Dream’s coat. I did not like admitting such things while he looked me in the eye. 

“Doing too much to them? You are their Goddess; you exist to manage their Hope and Pain,” he said as he crossed his arms and folded them behind his head. It was the most relaxed I had ever seen Dream. 

I nodded, trying to convince myself that his words rang true. 

“Do you think their lives would be easier if Gods and Goddess and the Endless did not interfere with them? What would happen if we all let go? Would the humans fall? Or do we think they would collapse because we are self-entitled creatures filled with pride, and we cannot fathom a world where humans were self-maintained? A world where we are not needed.” 

Dream, to my absolute shock, laughed. The sound was low and smooth. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion and annoyance. 

He shook his head, his hand reached out to my face. Ever-so-lightly he traced the wrinkle between my brows.

“I do not know, Artemea. Maybe they would thrive, maybe they would fall. But what I know is Hopes and Dreams are the foundation of mankind. Without us, there is no love, no art, no innovation. We are good for mankind. Do not doubt that. Even Pain and Nightmares have their purpose,” his hand slowly withdrew from my face, and he rested it at his side.

Our pinkies lightly touched. 

Neither of us acknowledged it, and neither of us moved away. 

“Sometimes it’s hard not to hurt for them. Maybe that is my penance for the Pain I must deliver,” I said, my eyes now locked with Dream’s. The sheer otherworldliness of them took my breath away. 

Dream’s hand at his chest curled into a fist, “Your work does not deserve penance, Artemea. You are doing what you are made to do, and you are doing it well. A creature as kind as yourself should not feel such guilt for your function.”

You are doing it well

The words sunk into me; hitting far deeper than I would have thought they would. 

I roughly nodded at Dream, my voice failing me. 

“You should rest, Goddess.” Just as I was about to say I wasn’t tired, “I know of your exhaustion. I know you do not sleep well. So, rest, little Goddess, for there is much to do tomorrow.”

I fell asleep on the soft land of the Fiddler’s Green, the night sky above me, and the King of Dreams at my side. 

The next morning I wondered if it was a dream. I woke up alone, with no evidence of the King ever being there in the first place. 

I stood up and rolled my shoulders. I was late for my morning tea. 

The rest of the day went without a hiccup and fell into my established routine. 

                                                Six years later 

“Morpheus, you need a break,” I said, pacing the throne room. Dream looked at me as though I told him he needed to turn my skin blue. I shook my head, “In order for you to be fully present in your duties you need to take some time for yourself.”

Dream ran a hand down his face and groaned, “You sound like Death.”

“Death is a very brilliant woman. Come on, Dream! I know how you have been struggling with inspiration; I have the perfect night planned. All you need to do is say yes,” I said, letting my power bleed into the room. I wanted Dream to know how much I hoped for him to just agree. 

“I can give you three hours, no more, no less,” he said, slowly walking down the staircase that led to his throne. 

I smiled, bright and large, “Perfect.”

Without warning, I grabbed him by the hip and transported us into the human realm. When we landed I snapped my fingers, and with it, our clothing changed. Human fashion changed so frequently that I had to verify earlier in the day what would be appropriate attire for the ballet in Italy in the year 1841. 

I wore a large corseted dress with a bell-shaped skirt. The color was a soft pink and it had embellished flowers along the bodice and the hem of the skirt. My wings hidden from human eyes. Dream wore a fine tuxedo with high-waisted trousers and slightly heeled loafers. I looked at him and giggled. 

Dream rolled his eyes, “You are a rude thing, Goddess.”

Despite his words, he linked his elbow to mine and began leading us away from the humans. 

“I am not laughing at you, I promise! It’s just so different seeing you like…”

His eyebrow rose, as he stared at me from the corner of his eye, waiting for me to finish my thought. 

“Two hours and fifty minutes,” was all he said when he realized I wasn’t going to finish my statement. 

I lightly pinched his forearm, “Just see, Dream. Soon you will not be counting down the minutes.”

“Two hours and forty-nine minutes,” he said, no emotion in his tone. 

I rolled my eyes and ushered us inside and to our seats. I had managed to get us a few rows away from the front of the stage, directly in the middle. 

I twisted my head around and saw all the humans around me. I felt each of their Hopes in the back of my mind. 

Dream was stiff as a board next to me. He was uncomfortable being so close to this many humans. And I’m sure he was not favoring the clothing I had given him. 

I opened my mouth to apologize for his uncomfortable state, but the sound of a violin cut my thoughts. 

The violin was a soft, warm sound. A cello joined the violin, it deepened the music, making it richer and more vibrant. It was like the instruments were playing a game of tag. One would build and build, and the other would come rushing in to create a masterful harmony. They alternated, creating this building crescendo that stalled the breath in my lungs.

At the highest point, at the climax of the music, every instrument remaining in the orchestra masterfully entered all at once. It created this booming, powerful sound that echoed in the theater. Each instrument blended perfectly. Every sound that came was utter bliss and joy. 

Then the dancers came out. Two women, walking on the very tips of their toes. It didn’t look like they were taking steps; it looked like they were gliding, like they were floating across the stage. It made me wonder how elegant they would be if they had an eternity to practice their craft. 

I finally broke my stare of the women, to see how Dream was enjoying himself. He sat with his arms crossed, and his back straight. But his eyes did not leave the stage. He was in awe of them. 

I leaned forward to the shell of his ear, and whispered, “Give me your hand.”

Dream looked at me, a wrinkle between his brows and a light color to his cheeks, but he gave me his hand. 

I held his hand in mine. It was calloused and large, but he was gentle, almost hesitant. I ran my thumb along his knuckles. I saw Dream shiver, and I had to bite back a smile. 

I closed my eyes and let every human around me in. I only let their current awe and hope fill my chest. I felt how each human was so utterly impressed and entranced by the art before them. Music and dance were a form of Hope in themselves. I felt the musicians' Hope and love for their craft. I felt the dancers’ determination to get each movement right, and the joy they felt when they knew it was going well. Art was a beautiful thing. I took those feelings in and I reflected them in my own power. I held Dream’s hand tighter and took a shaky breath.

I opened my eyes and Morpheus was staring at me, the outside of his eyes dark, the inner bright as a star. I looked at him and saw the reflection of my eyes in his. My own had a golden glow;  I saw the gold of my eye in the darkness of his. 

I smiled and slowly let the humans’ beautiful feelings about what they were seeing funnel into Dream. I looked down at our entwined hands, and mine had started to glow just as bright as my eyes. Dream quickly covered it in a veil of his own shadow, hiding us from the eyes of the humans. 

But I continued to funnel the feelings into Dream. I let him feel just how much Hopes and Dreams affected people. I let him feel the best of what humankind has to offer. 

I watched the women dance and I was in a trance. The beauty in their movements and their emotions nearly blinded me. 

“Isn’t it so beautiful?” I asked him with tears in my eyes. I took a steadying breath and looked back at Morpheus. 

He was not looking at the dancers or the musicians. He was looking at me.

“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, his voice rough. 

My lips parted; I was unsure of what to say. Dream tracked the movement, and blinked slowly at me. 

My lips curved upward, “It is good for you to experience humans like this every once and a while, Dream. In order to better serve them, you must in turn serve yourself.”

“You sound like you wish to be my keeper, little Goddess,” Dream whispered. 

“Perhaps not your keeper, perhaps I wish to be your friend,” I whispered back, the words soft. 

“I have no desire for friends,” Dream said, suddenly harsh. 

I shook my head and leaned closer, “Oh, King of Dreams, you cannot lie to me. I see your Hope and Pain just as clear as anyone else.” 

Dream’s lips curled into a sneer, “Zero.”

And without warning, Dream vanished. Leaving me alone. 

Taglist:

@pearlstiare @justviktormlolm​ @firerusher​ @musicconversedance​ @oo0lady-mad0oo​ @munsonmunster​ @roxytheimmortal​

#the sandman #netflix the sandman #neil gaiman #dream x fem!reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless #dream x goddess #dream the endless #morpheus x reader #morpheus x original character #morpheus #sandman x reader #sandman x oc #netflix sandman #hope

[calzone-d]

Quality Time (Jason Sudeikis x Fem!Reader)

pairing: Jason Sudeikis x Fem!Reader, Mom!Reader (ish?)

word count: 3k

warnings: injuries, hospital (not angsty), olivia slander (if you don’t like it just go ahead and skip this one 😄)

summary: When Jason gets injured, you spend some quality time with the kids.

a/n: hi babies! thanks for being patient with me while I was kinda quiet over the holidays. this is RPF and has a tad of Olivia slander so if you’re not into those things, this one isn’t for you! otherwise, enjoy!

Masterlist

————-

It was around lunchtime when you got the call. Daisy and Otis were settled at the kitchen table, happily eating the spaghetti you’d made them, and the three of you were throwing around suggestions of what to do with your weekend together.

Daisy wanted to go to the zoo, and Otis was pushing to go to the trampoline park. You hadn’t heard from Jason in about six hours, which was a little unusual since he wasn’t filming anymore, but you figured he’d just gotten carried away figuring out upcoming press with the rest of the Ted Lasso cast.

The kids carried on trying to compromise on weekend plans when your phone rang, looking at the ID you were relieved to see Jason’s name. You stepped away from the table to answer the call.

“Hey honey, what’s up?”

“Okay, don’t freak out-“

“What?”, how could you not freak out at that statement?

“So I’m in the hospital-“

“What? Are you okay? What happened?”, your mind immediately went to the worst.

The sound of him chuckling only confused you more.

“I’m fine, sweetheart. Just a little accident.”

“A car accident?”

Jason’s laugh filled your ears again, “No, no. Brett and I were editing, and we ordered a pizza. When it got here I jumped up to grab it, but I wasn’t paying attention and tripped over the edge of his couch. The way I landed on my ankle kind of broke it-“

“Kind of?”, you chuckled. Now that you knew it wasn’t too serious, you relaxed a bit.

“No, it’s kind of fucked up”, he admitted. “They’re wanting to do surgery on it tomorrow morning, and put a pin or two in there I think. I’ll be here for a day or two. I know it was our weekend off, and the kids are here, and-“

“Jas, it’s fine.”, this wouldn’t be the first time you had to watch the kids alone. There were many nights Olivia didn’t show to get the kids for her weekends, and Jason had to be somewhere for work. You’ve been in the kids’ lives since they were both born, having been best friends with Jason during your time on SNL. For the past year, though, you weren’t just the ”fun aunt” anymore. Your rekindled relationship with Jason meant that you spent most of your time with him. You’d taken on a bit more of a “mom” role to them, and there were no complaints from either side. You loved them like they were your own, and they loved how involved you were. Whenever Olivia wasn’t present, you always were, and they had started to catch on to that.

“I just feel bad, I know they really wanted to go out this weekend.”

“And they still can, you know I have no problem taking them out.”

“Are you sure? There might be paps there or something.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time, love. I promise I don’t mind, I love seeing them happy. I think they’ve come to an agreement on a day at the zoo.”

He fondly chuckled at your love for his children, “You know they love you right? You mean the world to them. To me, too.”

Your cheeks reddened at his sentiment, “I know, Jas. You guys are my world, too. Can we come see you? I know they’re going to be worried sick when I tell them.”

“Yeah, can you also bring a bag for me too?”

“I can do that. I’ll call you when we’re on our way, I love you.”

“I love you too, bye honey.”

You ended the call and walked back into the kitchen. Daisy was cackling at something Otis had said, and he proudly laughed along with her. Thankfully they had both finished their lunches, so you could go ahead and make your way to the hospital. You took a seat across from them and tried to find the best way to break the news.

“Alright, my loves. So we’ve had a change of plans”

They both looked at you.

“Your dad a little accident and hurt his foot, so he had to go to the hospital and get it all fixed up-“

Daisy interrupted you with a worried pout before you could continue, “Is he okay?”

“He’s just fine Daisy girl, but he’s got to spend the night there because they want to do surgery on it, just to make sure it heals faster.”

Otis’ expression was one of worry, and the way his brows furrowed was a perfect replica of his father’s.

“We’re gonna go see him, and then we can go to the zoo? How does that sound?”

They both slowly nodded, and Daisy spoke again, “But can we make sure he’s okay first?”

“That’s exactly what we’re gonna do. You two get dressed and I’m going to get some stuff together for Dad. Let’s try to leave in fifteen minutes, okay?”

Daisy and Otis both nodded before running off to their rooms. You went to you and Jason’s bedroom to get a bag ready for him. After a few minutes, Daisy came in and climbed on the bed next to the bag you were packing.

“Can you make sure we take this bracelet for dad?”, she showed you a new beaded bracelet she had made for Jason. It had blue and yellow beads with star beads on both ends.

“Wow, Daisy! That’s a good one, he’s going to love it!”, the little girl smiled proudly as you took the bracelet from her. She has developed a habit of making bracelets for you all, and you wore each one like it was made of gold.

“Let’s put it right here in his bag, and we’ll make sure he gets it before we leave.”, you opened a small zipper pocket on the side of his bag, and Daisy slipped it inside before zipping it back up.

She seemed to be dressed, wearing a lilac tutu over her leggings and some light-up converse. As you put the last few things you knew Jason would want in his bag, she remained quiet and picked at the bedspread. A tiny pout had settled on her face. You zipped up the duffel bag, and sat down next to her.

“What’s wrong, love bug?”

When she looked up at you, a few tears had gathered in her eyes. “I just want Dad to be okay.”

She climbed into your lap and wrapped herself around you before you could respond. Her tiny hands gripped at the back of your sweater and she let her head fall against your shoulder. When you wrapped your arms around you, she relaxed even more against you. Gently, you rocked her and rubbed circles on her back.

“He’s going to be just fine, sweet girl. I promise. He’ll be home in a few days, and in the meantime we can still have fun! After we go visit Dad we can go to the zoo and see the lions! It’s kind of cloudy, so I’m sure they’ll be out walking around today.”

She seemed to perk up at the mention of her favorite animal.

“Do you think the baby lions will be there?”

“Ooh, maybe! And we can get matching lion shirts!”

Daisy pulled away from you and gave you a toothy smile, “Can we wear them when Dad gets home?”

“Of course we can! Let‘s go round up your brother and head over to the hospital, okay?”, she nodded and hopped off your lap.

Daisy insisted on carrying his favorite blanket and holding it in her lap during the car ride there. Both kids were very adamant about holding your hand once you entered the hospital, you figured the new unfamiliar environment was probably a bit scary for them. Balancing the duffel bag on one shoulder and a hand holding both of yours wasn’t the easiest thing, but you wanted to make sure the kids felt as comfortable as possible.

When you arrived at the door of Jason’s room, the radiologists were inside taking X-rays, and asked you to wait in the hall until they were finished. While you waited, you felt Daisy poke at your side. She looked up at you with your arms outstretched, clearly wanting to be held, with a scared look on her face.

The last thing you wanted was for either of them to feel even more uneasy, so you maneuvered the bag on your shoulder and lifted her up onto your hip. Immediately, she wrapped her arms around your neck and buried her face into your shoulder. Otis stood close by, keeping a hand on the duffel bag as if he were afraid you’d get lost.

Otis looked up at you and asked, “Are you gonna stay with us, y/n?”

“Of course, hun. Where would I go?”

He shrugged and leaned into your side. Otis was a very touchy kid, he always loved hugs and insisted on being close to you. This only intensified as he grew more attached to you, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. He was such a sweet kid, and you loved the relationship you had with him; he’d even called you “Mom” a few times over the last couple months, not that you minded. As things with Olivia got worse, you made it very clear you weren’t trying to be any sort of replacement for the kids, and that they could call you whatever they wanted and felt comfortable with.

You’d always been close with Otis, ever since he was a toddler. Especially after Daisy was born, and Olivia took on more of the “girl mom” role. When you and Jason got back together, he was arguably one of the most excited people. He loved seeing his dad happy, and fed off the positive energy Jason radiated when he was around you.

The three of you stood in silence until the radiologist rolled the x-ray machine out of the room. As soon as they were out, you all went in, and Jason broke into a smile at the sight of his three favorite people.

“Hey guys!”

Daisy looked at him, but stayed silent in your arms. Otis climbed up on the bed next to him, and immediately started catching up with his dad. As they talked, you held Daisy close, and let her have a moment to observe the situation. During a break in his conversation with Otis, Jason looked over to the two of you.

“What’s wrong, Daisy? Do you want to come sit with me?”

You looked down at her, and she looked back up at you. She turned back to him and murmured, “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

Jason’s brows furrowed, “Oh honey, I promise I’m okay. Look, they’ve even given me a cool cast until I can have my surgery tomorrow.”

He pulled up the blanket to reveal a lime green cast covering his ankle and foot. It caught Daisy’s attention, and she was sold as soon as he said, “I also have a sharpie, do you want to draw some pictures on my cast?”

As soon as she nodded, you put her down. Her little hands tentatively took the sharpie from her dad, and she asked if he had any requests for his cast art.

“Pick an animal, Dad!”

“Oooh, can I get a giraffe?”

She giggled at his request, “With a long neck?”

“Yeah! Make it go all the way to the top, Dais!”

“You’re silly Dad!”, she laughed but started drawing anyway.

You sat the duffel bag on the couch by the window and started unloading it. “Okay, I’ve got you some pajamas, your phone charger, toothbrush, toothpaste-“

“Honey, I can go through all that later. Come sit.”, he pointed to the chair that was right at the bedside.

Reluctantly, you sat down beside him and grabbed his hand. The familiar warmth of his hand in yours calmed your nerves, and his thumb began rubbing circles into the back of your hand. Daisy and Otis talked about giraffes as she worked on his drawing, and Jason leaned over to rest his head against your shoulder. You pressed a soft kiss to his messy hair, and looked down to meet his eyes, “Feeling okay?”

“Much better now that I’ve seen you guys, missed you lots.”, he murmured as he looked over towards the kids. You both caught up as Daisy finished her drawing, and when she was done, she crawled up the bed and over into your lap.

“Wow Dais, that looks so good!”

Daisy smiled at her dad and leaned up to whisper in your ear, “Can I give him the bracelet now?”

“Oh of course! Go get it, honey.”

She scrambled off your lap and raced to the duffel bag, going straight for the pocket she put the bracelet in earlier.

Otis made a funny joke about Jason being clumsy, and as Daisy fished out the bracelet the two of them laughed together. The older he got, he was taking on more and more of his dad’s humor.

You helped Daisy back up on the bed when she returned with the bracelet, and Jason’s face lit up at her gift.

“Dad, it's for you! It’s a feel-better bracelet!”, her little smile showed how proud of herself she was.

“That’s so thoughtful of you, honey! Thank you so much! Want to put it on for me?”, the girl nodded and slipped the bracelet onto her dad’s wrist.

“Fits perfect! How did you know I wanted a blue and yellow bracelet?”, he poked his fingers into her side and she shrugged at him while giggling.

Jason moved to where they could both snuggle into his sides, and stretched an arm behind Daisy’s head to softly rub his fingers against your arm. Daisy wiggled around so that she faced you, and reached an arm over to grab at your hand, “Love you, y/n”.

Her sentiment was whispered, but it was one of the most clear things you’d ever heard. It wasn’t the first time one of them told you they loved you, but every time they said it, your heart bursted at the seams. You leaned towards her to brush her hair out of her forehead and place a warm kiss against it, “I love you, Dais”.

The girl hummed contently before snuggling back up into Jason’s side.

After they’d spent enough time with Jason to know he was okay, they started to get restless in the small room.

“How do you guys feel about heading over to the zoo?”

Both kids squealed in excitement at your suggestion, and very quickly voiced their agreement. Jason sent you all off with hugs and kisses, and the kids were noticeably calmer on the ride back to the house. They talked about which animals they were most excited to see, and took turns making funny animal noises.

They sat together on the couch while you loaded a backpack with snacks and drinks. When everyone was ready you made your way to the zoo.

As soon as you stepped inside the zoo, both kids were on cloud nine. They loved seeing all the animals, and posing for pictures for their dad. In the bigger crowds, they both insisted on holding one of your hands, and would point out all the tiny details of the animals to you.

“Y/n, look at the penguins little feet!”

“The peacock has really pretty feathers y/n, look how blue they are!”

They wanted a selfie with you in front of every exhibit. Luckily there weren’t many people that seemed to recognize you. A few people recognized you from SNL and some of your later projects, but they were polite enough to ask for a picture before just taking one of you and the kids.

By the end of the day, they were exhausted. Otis picked out a sweatshirt in the gift shop and Daisy went with a lion shirt that matched one of the adult ones they had. You got them both a banana popsicle and loaded up the car.

The ride home was silent, and both kids were asleep within ten minutes. When you got home, you woke them up and offered to cook tacos for dinner. You could tell they were fighting sleep but they insisted on staying awake for your tacos.

Jason facetimed you after you got home, and both kids were excited to tell them about their day at the zoo. He talked to them while you made dinner, and would ask them to pan the camera to you every few minutes to catch up with you, too. He stayed on the phone while you all ate, but as soon as you finished the kids were tired and wanted to go to bed.

“Sleep good, guys. Y/n, call me back later, okay? I love you all so so much.”

You hung up and went to take the kids to bed. Otis wanted to shower while you read Daisy a book. As soon as you were done, she was out like a light. You tucked her in, then went across the hall to tuck Otis in.

After you cleaned up the kitchen, you got ready for bed and gave Jason a call back.

“Hey, hot stuff. How was the zoo day?”

You laughed at his greeting, “It was great, Jas. We all had a really good time”

“I could tell by the pictures. Thanks for taking them, y/n, seriously. They love you so much, I do too.”

“You guys are my family, honey. I love you all so much more than you know. How are you feeling? How’s the foot?”

“It’s good, they’re talking about doing my surgery as outpatient tomorrow and letting me come home after I wake up.”

“We’d all love that, we miss you.”

“I miss you guys. This bed sucks and I have no one to entertain me”, you both shared a laugh.

“Plus, how am I supposed to sleep without you?”

“You sleep without me all the time, Jas.”

“Okay yeah, but it sucks.”

The two of you caught up some more before your eyelids got heavier. Jason insisted on staying on the phone until you fell asleep, and his voice made the transition even easier.

“Sleep good, sweetheart. I love you.”

“Love you too, Jas”

Thanks for reading!

#jason sudeikis rpf #rpf #jason sudeikis #jason sudeikis x reader #mom!reader #dad!jason #my writing

[clusterbuck]

hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle

[2.4k, E, a shitpost brought to life]

no you made a shitpost about anal fingering as a hiccup cure and then wrote a 2k+ fic about it and titled it with a line from howl by allen ginsberg

It starts with the hiccups. 

Which—Eddie has spent more time than he cares to admit imagining this. He’s sensed the energy buzzing between him and Buck, and he’s pretty certain it’s only a question of when, not if. 

He’s visualised all the different ways it might happen—slowly drifting closer together after a tipsy evening on the couch, something dramatic and life-affirming in the wake of a dangerous call, heated and frantic when the tension becomes too much—but he’s never imagined hiccups. 

But here they are. 

Eddie’s had the hiccups for going on two days now, and it’s starting to get to him. 

Well, it started to get to him two hours into their shift. Now it’s driving him up the wall. 

He’s spent most of the shift trying every possible remedy the rest of the 118 can come up with. Chimney tells him to drink from the wrong side of the glass, and Hen waits until he’s bent over trying not to get water up his nose to say “Nah, man, that’s a myth.”

Eddie splutters, and the water goes up his nose. “You couldn’t have—hic!—said that a minute ago?”

“I wanted to see if you could do it,” Hen shrugs. “Anyway, what you need to do is eat a spoonful of sugar.”

“And that—hic!—works?” Eddie asks. 

“More than that water nonsense,” Hen says. 

It doesn’t work. 

“You need to breathe into a paper bag,” Bobby says, brandishing what looks like a leftover brown lunch bag. “It’s, uh, something to do with oxygen.”

Eddie breathes into the paper bag. It doesn’t help. 

Ravi spends half the shift following him around and trying to scare him. He starts by jumping out from behind corners, and escalates to trying to fake an emergency call from Christopher's school. 

Eddie just raises his eyebrows. “Has anyone ever—hic!—told you that you’re not a good actor?”

It doesn’t help. 

 Buck googles lists of hiccup remedies and Eddie tries them one by one, but by the time their shift ends he’s still hiccuping. 

“It’s not working,” Eddie groans, dropping his head into his hands with a miserable hic! “I’m going to be like this forever.”

“you know hiccups just go away on their own, right?” Buck asks. “Well. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” Eddie asks. “I don’t—hic!—like the sound of that.” 

“Well, the longest recorded hiccups went on for sixty-eight years,” Buck says. “But hey, even those eventually stopped.”

“I can’t do this for sixty-eight years, Buck,” Eddie says. “It’s barely—hic!—been sixty-eight hours and I’m about to tear my windpipe out. Bare—hic!—hands.”

“Okay, okay,” Buck says. “We’ll keep looking.”

“Follow me home?” Eddie asks. 

“You got it.”

They pull up to an empty house. Christopher’s at school, and Eddie’s glad if only because he’s started following every hiccup with a four-letter word he doesn’t want his son to pick up. 

“Still going?” Buck asks, climbing out of his jeep. 

Eddie hiccups in response. 

They enter the house and sprawl out on the couch. Eddie spreads himself out, taking far more space than he needs, and after a few moments of trying to get him to move Buck just flops on top of him, settling his head on Eddie’s stomach. 

Eddie hiccups, and Buck’s head jolts with the motion. 

“Okay,” Buck says, “I’m going to find a new list. There’s gotta be something we haven’t tried yet.��

 Buck’s quiet as he scrolls through his phone, the only sound in the room Eddie’s occasional hiccups and the soft swears that follow. Eddie stares at Buck’s head pillowed on his stomach, at the blonde hair drying into soft curls, and fights the urge to touch him. to run his hand through Buck’s golden hair, to trace a path from his temple down the curve of his cheekbone. 

He fights the urge, because they’re not there yet. They’re not—every day they inch a little closer, every day another barrier breaks down, but they haven’t quite crossed the line yet. 

Eddie’s spent the past several months trying to figure out how to do it, but none of his plans seem good enough. He might, he thinks, be in his head about it a little. 

But in his defence, he only gets one chance to tell the love of his life how he feels. He thinks he’s allowed to be a little dramatic about it. 

Except all of his dramatic plans go out the window when Buck makes a noise and slams his phone down against his chest like he’s just gotten a raunchy pop-up ad in a room full of disapproving old people. 

“What?” Eddie asks, bumping his foot against Buck’s leg. 

“Uh—nothing,” Buck says, in the most suspicious tone Eddie’s ever heard come out of Buck’s mouth. 

Eddie hiccups. 

“It’s—” Buck starts, and abruptly closes his mouth. 

“Buck,” Eddie practically whines, and hiccups again. 

“It’s—” Buck tries again, and swallows. “Uh, this article I found suggests—”

Eddie hiccups. “Just tell me,” he groans. “Come on, how bad could it be? Hic!”

“Rectal massage,” Buck says, the words tripping over each other like he just wants to get them out as fast as possible. “Apparently, there was a guy who stopped hiccuping after rectal massage. And this is in, like, Healthline, so it’s probably legit—”

Eddie squeaks. Later, he will deny such a sound ever leaving his mouth, but he definitely squeaks. And then he bursts out laughing, because—

“I swear to god, that’s what it says,” Buck says, trying to shove his phone in Eddie’s face. 

“No, I believe you,” Eddie says, gasping amidst the laughter and the hiccups. “I believe you, just—hic!—imagine if I’d known—hic!—that all I had to do was get the fucking—hic!—hiccups?”

 Buck lowers his phone again, slowly this time, and shifts in Eddie’s lap until he’s squinting up at Eddie. “When you say all you had to do…”

“Sit up,” Eddie says. 

 Buck frowns up at him, and Eddie pokes at his shoulder. “I mean it, Buck. Come on, sit up.”

“Why?” Buck asks, but he’s already scrambling up until he’s sitting next to Eddie on the couch. 

“Because I’m—hic!—not about to break my back doing this,” Eddie says and leans in, his fingertips feathering along Buck’s jawline just as their lips meet. 

 Buck surges against him immediately, and it’s just like Eddie had known it would be. Like the dam has finally broken, and everything they’ve been holding back for months—years—can finally come rushing through. 

Eddie loses himself in kissing Buck for all of two minutes before he hiccups again, this time directly into Buck’s mouth. Against his lips, he feels Buck’s curving into a grin. 

“Does this mean you want to try?” Buck asks. 

“God, yes,” Eddie breathes. “For the—hic!—hiccups, but also because I’m—hic!—stupidly in love with you and I want you to fuck me,” he says. “Just, you know. So we’re—hic!—clear.” 

“I can work with that,” Buck says. his lips trail a path up the curve of Eddie’s jaw, and when he lands at Eddie’s ear it sends a shiver running through him. “So we’re clear,” Buck murmurs, lips brushing the shell of Eddie’s ear, “I’m in love with you, too.”

“Good,” Eddie says, half-gasp, and hiccups again. “Now will you please—hic!—fuck these hiccups out of me?” 

 Buck’s still laughing as he clambers off the sofa and holds out a hand, pulling Eddie up with him. “Hi,” he whispers as Eddie comes face to face with him, and despite the hiccups and the abject ridiculousness of the past several minutes, Eddie finds himself smiling. 

“Hi,” he whispers back, suppressing a hiccup and leaning in to press his mouth against Buck’s, soft and slow and gentle. Buck sways against him, and for a moment Eddie is able to forget the unconventional way they found their way here and just enjoy the fact that they did. 

Then he hiccups into Buck’s mouth again. 

“Okay, okay,” Buck says, trying and failing not to laugh. “Bedroom?”

Eddie lets Buck pull him along and into the bedroom like it’s not his house. He hesitates for a moment once they get into the bedroom and close the door, unsure how to continue this slightly surreal situation, but Buck practically tackles him onto the bed, lips finding his as soon as they’re close enough again. 

“You know,” Buck says, just barely pulling back, so Eddie feels his lips move against his cheek. “Normally, I wouldn’t put out like this on the first date. But there’s extenuating circumstances.”

Eddie opens his mouth to ask, but a hiccup comes out instead. 

“Yeah, that,” Buck agrees, then he grins. “Also, I really want to fuck you.”

“Works for me,” Eddie breathes. 

“Lube?” Buck asks, and Eddie fumbles in his bedside table until his hand closes around a bottle he can pretty much recognise by touch alone. 

 Buck makes quick work of their clothing, and when his shirt comes off Eddie can’t help but reach for Buck and pull him close, to press his lips wherever he can reach as his hands skim across Buck’s broad back, tracing the outlines of his muscles and counting his vertebrae one by one. Buck lets him get away with it, sinking into lazy, indulgent kisses, until Eddie hiccups three times in quick succession. 

“Okay,” Buck murmurs. “Let’s take care of that first, yeah?”

He sits up, dragging his fingertips slowly down Eddie’s chest. Eddie’s only in his boxers now, and the outline of his cock twitches when Buck’s fingers pass his nipples, as they trace the waistband of his underwear. Buck trails a finger down the cloth-covered length of him and Eddie’s hips jerk, seeking friction. 

 Buck pulls his boxers off and Eddie watches the way his cock springs out, the way Buck’s gaze is immediately drawn to it. Buck wraps a hand around him and Eddie lets out a choked-off gasp, transitioning into a hiccup halfway through. 

“Right,” Buck says. “Eyes on the prize.”

 Buck’s hands move to Eddie’s legs, his large palms smoothing along Eddie’s inner thighs. He takes a moment just to touch Eddie, hands moving back and forth and slowly getting closer to the crease of his thigh. He nudges, careful, guiding Eddie to part his legs. 

It’s—strange, to lie there, on his back with his leaking cock resting on his stomach and his legs spread wide. it’s strange, but he doesn’t feel exposed like he might have expected. There’s just a burgeoning sense of anticipation, an awareness of Buck’s every limb that only grows as Buck’s hands return to his inner thighs and move to cup his ass. There’s an ache growing within him, like if Buck doesn’t touch him soon he’ll break apart, even with Buck’s hands still on him. 

 Buck brushes a finger between Eddie’s cheeks, and Eddie lets out a sound best described as somewhere between a sigh and a whimper. 

“Yeah?” Buck asks and does it again. 

“Buck—” Eddie starts and gets cut off by a hiccup, but he thinks maybe his tone was enough to convey it. 

“Yeah, baby,” Buck murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

Eddie hears the cap of the lube bottle, and the next time Buck touches him his fingers are cool and slippery. Buck takes his time, but Eddie’s gasping from the moment Buck touches him and only gets more incoherent the further Buck gets.

 Buck’s fingers circle Eddie’s rim and Eddie swears, biting off a moan with a gritted-out fuck. Buck slips a single finger inside of him, and Eddie’s hiccups disappear almost immediately but he doesn’t notice, all of his attention fixed on the waves of pleasure radiating through him, escaping his mouth in a chant of “Oh god, Buck, shit, shit, oh my god—”

He’s barely aware of the bed shifting beside him but then Buck’s there, stretched out next to him with one hand still between his legs. Buck’s lips land on his cheek, his neck, his collarbone, his chest, scraping by his nipples and back up to Eddie’s mouth to swallow the litany of profanity spilling out of him. 

Eddie thinks Buck might have added a finger but he can’t be sure, can’t be sure of anything except the fact that Buck is the only thing that exists in the universe right now. Just him and Buck on his bed, on the blue quilted covers that Buck called boring once but which Eddie likes because if he squints he can pretend they’re the same blue as Buck’s eyes. 

 Buck’s fingers curl, and they brush up against something inside him that blurs the edge of his vision and sends shockwaves through him. Eddie moans, louder than he has all day, and he can’t see Buck but when he speaks Eddie hears the grin in his voice. 

“Yeah?” Buck murmurs. “Think you can come just like this?”

“Fuck,” Eddie says, and it’s not a response but it’s the only word he can find. He feels like he’s floating, like Buck’s hand is the only thing keeping him here, like all that’s left of him is the white-hot pleasure crashing over him in waves. 

 Buck curls his fingers again and Eddie tumbles over the edge; his release rips through him and he collapses back against the bed, limp. For several long moments, his ragged breathing is the only sound in the room. 

“So,” Buck eventually says. “Did it work?” 

Eddie’s still catching his breath, but he reaches for Buck and tugs him in, pressing their mouths together. “You tell me,” he murmurs some minutes later, entirely uninterrupted by hiccups. 

“Good to know,” Buck grins, then switches to a frown so fast Eddie almost gets whiplash. “We need to come up with a different story to tell at work.”

Eddie snorts. “Yeah, I don’t think they want to hear this version.”

“Sucks for them,” Buck says. “I happen to think it’s a great version.”

“You’re biased,” Eddie points out. 

“Lies and slander,” Buck says, and Eddie’s still laughing when he kisses Buck again. 

“Hey, so,” Eddie says a minute later. “I know you don’t have the hiccups, but can I—I want to—”

 Buck grins at him. “Hic.”

#911fic #buddie #buddie fic #shush emma #emma writes

[martianbugsbunny]

If You Are Gilgamesh And Did Those Things (An Espionage Husbands Fic)

*eating diagonal-cut toast* Remember what I was saying about how that chunk from the Epic of Gilgamesh gives Espionage Husbands? Well, I decided to take the dialogue from that chunk and use it in a fic. I also used this fic as an excuse to try and figure out Fury's character a bit more, because I will admit he's sort of difficult to write, but I think I'm managing alright. Join me in my sadnesses, won't you?

There wasn’t a body, but there was a grave.

Actually, it was Fury’s.

It was a week after Talos’s death, and Fury had had the second name carved on the headstone, right above his own name, just hours ago. Their names should be blazed across the stone together, as they should also be burned into the history books—if their parts in this war were remembered at all. After life united, death united, even if their mortal bodies couldn't moulder and rot in the same place, was the only way Fury could think of it without falling apart.

....Besides, Fury had all the memories the two of them had made together, and the love they had shared was still treating brokenly in his chest, so when he eventually was interred beneath that stone himself, he would bring the most important parts of Talos to their shared grave at last.

Still, Fury hadn’t been the same since he left Talos’s body, still bleeding, on that battleground. Since that soft, strong presence had vanished from his side. He hadn’t eaten much, and the face that met him in the mirror looked like every moment was spent reliving the one where he’d watched Talos die. He couldn’t seem to get the stunned pain out of his eyes.

Sonya stood beside him at the gravesite. Fury wasn’t sure what she was doing there; he had visited her for intel and she had followed him.

“The Nick Fury I knew back in the day wouldn’t take it so hard,” Sonya said. “He was a lot tougher. Less emotional. He was the man who was a thorn in Drakov’s side, who battled Hydra, who took on the world and won. If you are Fury and did those things, why are you so thin, and your face half-crazed?”

Fury was tough. And while a large part of that toughness was having strong emotions to bolster his stubborn resolve, he had, over time, become a sort of legendary figure, and nobody believed that legends could bleed from their hearts. (Although, if anyone cared to remember that Fury had disobeyed direct orders during the Battle of New York; that he had been a man of enough faith to bring the Avengers Initiative to fruition; that alone should’ve been proof that his heart was not cold.)

He knew Sonya personally liked to believe him emotionless because she couldn’t understand being able to do the things Fury had done with an active heart. She certainly would never see the kind of emotion in him that had allowed him to fall in love with a former enemy.

“I have grieved—is it so impossible to believe?” he asked, exhausted. “My friend who went through everything with me is dead!”

All the things Sonya had listed, he and Talos had done together. Talos fed him the intel, got his own men in covert positions, made sure Fury would be going in informed and prepared so he wouldn’t be taken down. Talos was the half of Fury that nobody saw, the part that lived in shadows and stole others’ faces and never returned to the same apartment twice. Everything Fury had lived through since 1995, he had lived through with Talos secretly by his side.

“No-one grieves that much,” she said. “Your friend is gone; forget him. No-one remembers him. He is dead.”

Then she turned and left, and Fury sank to his knees on the grass.

Nobody probably did remember Talos. He was a Skrull—he had died in his Skrull flesh—and he was easy to overlook. He had fought for humanity…or for Fury, at least, and yet he could be written off as simply another one of the fallen enemy.

“Talos.” Fury ran his fingers over the freshly-carved letters. “Talos,” Fury called out. “Help me. They do not know you as I know you.”

#talos #nick fury #espionage husbands #nick fury x talos #talos x nick fury #secret invasion #sonya falsworth #source: the epic of gilgamesh #sad fic #sad author too lol #I want the green space dad back #but while I'm smad about it I might as well use that for a fic right? #et voila #angst without a happy ending #(a very rare trope for me that's how much marvel has destroyed me) #martianbugsbunny writes fic

[denimbex1986]

'Like countless moviegoers around the world, I’m a major fan of Christopher Nolan’s “Oppenheimer.” But like many of those who saw it, I wasn’t alone in having qualifications about the last part of the movie. For me, the first two hours of “Oppenheimer” were electrifying. I felt the kind of full-scale mind/soul immersion that’s the definition of what we look for when we go to the movies. But in the last hour, I experienced a certain falling-off quality. I was still involved, but less involved. As the film kept returning to the 1954 hearing that resulted in Oppenheimer losing his security clearance, with Oppenheimer in the hot seat being hectored by a team of interrogators led by Jason Clarke’s special counsel to the AEC, I thought, “Why are we still at this damn hearing?” I asked because I didn’t know.

Now I do. A month or so after “Oppenheimer” opened, I went back and saw it again, and this time my qualifications evaporated. I was just as electrified as I’d been by the first two hours ­— only now that sensation didn’t end. The feeling of immersion lasted all three hours, right to the final shot. I’m a bit embarrassed to say this, since it means admitting that I didn’t get the film right the first time; as much as I raved about it in my Variety review, I would now rewrite the last part of that piece. But I’m even more fascinated by why I missed a crucial element of the movie.

“Oppenheimer” presents its title character as a totemic figure, a daring, mysterious, endlessly complicated renaissance genius who rose to his moment by envisioning and overseeing the creation of the atomic bomb. Cillian Murphy, in his mesmerizing performance, endows Oppenheimer with an all-knowing aristocratic dandy swagger. He makes him a singularly charismatic figure, a wizardly idealist who conjures up an awesome power and then grapples with the consequences of his actions. And since it feels as if Oppenheimer, at that hearing, is being persecuted (to a large extent for his earlier Communist ties), it was hard to watch it without feeling like I was on his side.

The movie, however, is not on his side. Not really. In the last hour, it’s deeply critical of Oppenheimer — as critical, I would say, as any major Hollywood biopic has ever been of its subject. And this is the road I didn’t fully let myself travel down the first time I saw “Oppenheimer.” The last hour was trying to me because I was fighting what the movie was.

I can say, with some surprise, that the final hour of “Oppenheimer” is now my favorite part of the movie. It’s the most morally dramatic and hypnotic — the true inquiry into who Oppenheimer was, and why he’s a hero who will always have an oversize asterisk next to his name.

The first time out, I thought I was watching a drama about the creation of the A-bomb. But as captivating as all that is — the science-lab frenzy, the race against the clock, the thorny politics of life in the makeshift city that was set up in the Los Alamos desert — the process by which Oppenheimer and his fellow brainiacs transformed nuclear fission into a weapon capable of delivering a nuclear apocalypse is not exactly the stuff of spoiler alerts. They gathered; they devoted themselves; they wondered if they were going to set the global atmosphere on fire; they triumphed.

Since “Oppenheimer” is a movie with a built-in big bang, I spent a lot of that first viewing anticipating what the Trinity Test would look and feel like. I still think it’s the one disappointing aspect of the film. Nolan fragments the bomb detonation (glaring light, rising hellfire), and in doing so he somehow fails to channel its viscerally terrifying and unprecedented largeness. That kind of threw me off.

Was the building of the atomic bomb justified? “Oppenheimer” says that it absolutely was. The Nazis were working on their own bomb, and Oppenheimer, who was Jewish, very much saw his mission as an attempt to save civilization by winning a weapons race that, had the Nazis won it, might have resulted in a level of devastation beyond the unthinkable.

But was the dropping of the atomic bomb justified? Given that the Nazis had been defeated before the decision was made (by President Truman) to drop the weapon on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, a powerful case could be made that it was not. Should Nolan have depicted the effects of the bomb on the Japanese, as Spike Lee suggested this week? I think that would have made “Oppenheimer” a very different movie, and not necessarily a better one. I’m not here to rehash that debate, but I’ll point out that Nolan’s film features Oppenheimer, speaking to a roomful of his Manhattan Project colleagues, cutting to a kind of cosmic justification for dropping the bomb. He says, in essence, that it will act as an inoculation, forever scaring off the human race from using the bomb by demonstrating its deathly horror.

Perhaps he was right. But this was still Oppenheimer’s Faustian bargain. He convinced himself that dropping the bomb was justified, maybe even necessary, but in doing so he was also acting out of an elaborate and convoluted self-interest. On some level he’d invented a new toy and desperately wanted to use it. Though it wasn’t his decision to use it, he distanced himself from the horror of that decision.

The rest of the movie is about how the horror comes crawling back. I certainly saw elements of that the first time. But I what I missed, in my kneejerk-old-school-liberal way, is that the 1954 hearing runs on and on not because the film is trying to demonstrate that Oppenheimer was “persecuted.” As much as the Communist associations he had in the ’30s come into play, the point is not to depict the hearing as a McCarthyite smear (even though, in fact, it kind of was).

No, the startling thing about the last hour of “Oppenheimer” is that it features two characters who seem to exist almost entirely to prosecute and torment our hero, and in both cases what they say about him is right. “Oppenheimer” shows us how J. Robert Oppenheimer was not so much a victim of history, or of an oppressive U.S. government, as he was a defensive narcissist crusader who spent his final years using the trigger of his guilt to cover himself in a kind of grand delusion.

Robert Downey Jr.’s performance as Lewis Strauss, the former head of the AEC who becomes Oppenheimer’s antagonist, is a stupendous outpouring of extemporaneous verbal energy (the actor is even more commanding without his irony than he is with it). But because Strauss is the person who stabbed Oppenheimer in the back, I assumed, the first time I saw the movie, that Nolan figured he needed some sort of villain, and that the virulent, hawkish Strauss was it. Strauss certainly had petty personal motives; the film returns several times to the Congressional hearing in which Oppenheimer publicly humiliated him with a flippant comment about radioisotopes. Yet the reason that Strauss, in certain ways, comes close to dominating the film’s last hour isn’t simply because we’re watching a bureaucrat take his vengeance. It’s because Strauss is the one who understands, and articulates, a crucial element of the film’s verdict on Oppenheimer: that he was a brilliant and self-glorifying celebrity who forged a mythology around himself, one that extended into his very crusade against the weapon he’d created.

Oppenheimer was the scientist who let the nuclear genie out of the bottle, but after the war he devoted his life to essentially saying, “Let’s try to put it back in.” Never realizing that this was hypocritical and unreal. In public, he’d mocked Strauss, and it was Strauss’s sleazy double dealing that was on trial during his own 1959 Senate confirmation hearing for Secretary of Commerce — the other hearing that’s featured in the movie.

But the reason that Strauss is in the movie, and the reason Downey should win the Oscar for best supporting actor for his performance, is the fantastic fervor with which he rakes Oppenheimer over the coals. Just because Strauss is rather scurrilous doesn’t mean that he’s wrong; he’s the one who has Oppenheimer’s number. And so does Jason Clarke’s Roger Robb, the AEC attorney who, in one of the film’s most cathartic moments, gives a speech in the 1954 hearing that excoriates Oppenheimer for the hypocrisy of his position on the hydrogen bomb: his denunciation of it as a monstrously overscaled weapon — but talk about the wrong messenger! Oppenheimer’s A-bomb was already an obscenely overscaled monster.

Christopher Nolan, in that inquiring last hour, has written all this into the movie, not because he wants to damn J. Robert Oppenheimer but because he wants to take the full measure of a 20th-century visionary who charged into the creation of the atomic bomb as if it were the science project of a lifetime — which it was ­— but had the luxury of not fully thinking through the implications of his actions. By the time he thought them through, he’d turned his criticism of America’s nuclear policy into a grandly repressed apology. He used the nuclear debate, and even his own martyrdom, to justify himself. But the way the movie portrays this doesn’t make it an attack on Oppenheimer. It makes “Oppenheimer” a piece of history that’s also a human exploration of the most exhilarating honesty.'

#Oppenheimer #Christopher Nolan #Lewis Strauss #Robert Downey Jr. #Oscars #Cillian Murphy #Trinity test #President Truman #Jason Clarke #Roger Robb

[crazyexdirkfriend]

Hiiii

I was wondering if you had any advice on writing fics? I find myself struggling with structure/timeline(?) the most

Hi! Thanks for asking! Hmm I'm not sure what tips I have for you exactly, but I'll try and explain my process.

I have two approaches myself when I write fic:

I plan meticulously. I know exactly every scene and every chapter that will be in the fic. I do an outline, I explain it, and then I write it-- sometimes in order, generally depending on what bit I want to write when to keep myself motivated. Examples of this approach: Can Town Communication Manual, Okay Cupid!, calvariæ

I come up with a concept, theme, plot premise. And then I write whatever I want, whenever I want to, and when I have a solid chunk written I start figuring out how that's all supposed to flow together and tidy it up, write the intermittent parts etc. Examples of this approach: we were something, perpetuity, eschewal

Two alternatives to those: Now and then I write a fic in one sitting, such as lunar calendar, let it linger, or vote now on your phones. And now and then something theoretically has a chapter plan or structure but I go so loosey goosey off script that it ends up not mattering at all, such as shag emotionally devastate etc. or two short hours etc.

I will admit, most of my approaches use 2. BUT. I can use 2. because I spent about 4-5 years writing only using approach 1 and can generally eyeball what something is supposed to look like. Am I always right? No. But generally I think my pacing works for what I want it for.

BUT you want advice, not me being like eh? I throw darts at a board and sometimes they stick?

Okay! So here are my guides.

One, look at a three act structure. I ganked this one from the internet.

This is how a typical movie or book or, yes, fanfiction is set up. How this works is v easy to explain for multichapters or longfics with numbers in my opinion. Take a ten chapter standard long fic.

Chapters 1-2 should introduce your characters and premise, and involve your inciting incident- ie, what idea is dropped into the narrative that is going to make the rest of this plot roll out.

Chapters 3-4 should get your ball rolling. The plot should be happening, characters should be introduced, your quest should be underway.

Chapter 5 (and maybe one before or after) is where stakes should be getting high, the action is rising, the tension is occuring. Things are starting to get into action.

Chapter 6 or 7 should have a new plot point or a twist in the tale. Something goes very wrong or very right. A battle results in a huge victory and our hero is cocky. Or they lose a football game and it's a huge blow. Some wedge comes between our favourite ship- and they're going to need to confront it. This is often where a couple hook up for the first time in romances- that can be done well, it's often cliche, but hey fanfiction in general is. Here you can also have the calm before the storm too- things can be going wrong, but they can also be going well! Too well.

Chapter 8 is your conflict climax, the culmination of what you've been building up to. This is often where your ship will realise they have a seemingly irreconcilable difference, or they'll have a dispute that leads to a breakdown. An earlier betrayal can be revealed! In non romances, your hero can realise they've been fighting for a lie, they can be taken off the football team for something, their friends can abandon them. You know this part in a movie- it's where the music builds and you start to feel sick with stress. Or at least I do.

Chapter 9 is your resolution, your falling action. If you're going to fix things, this is where you do it. This is your resolution climax-- if your protagonist is going to, hm, chase their love interest through an airport to propose or confess their undying love or apologise for all their misdeeds, this is where they do it.

Chapter 10 is your quiet end, your new beginning: your epilogue if you will. Or, since this is fanfiction, this is often where you stick the sex scene but I often find that can be tonally jarring. Up to you!

Now you may be thinking: JEEZ that's awfully rigid. Well that's for math structure nerds like me who need to get their pacing down. That is to be taken not as gospel, but as a very basic "yes this is proven to work, if needs be" structure guide. It's the structure you'll find in classic films such as Legally Blonde 2001 or Music and Lyrics 2007 (warning: music and lyrics is not a classic film). But structures ARE made to be played with and broken. But to do that you need to understand the basic structure first, and then play with it. If you don't, you'll end up with like 7 climaxes like Outbreak 1995

One shots often don't have this kind of structure. There is no conflict in perpetuity for example. There's no real resolution in shag emotionally devastate etc. That's fine! I am a big big big BIG believer that writing form is a specific skill: not every novel writer can write poetry, not every poet can write plays etc. And fanfiction allows writers to use prose in a way that doesn't work in stand-alone fiction.

Which brings us to point two: meat and candy

Ganking this from Hussie himself because it does genuinely mean something. If we take meat to be plot, form, action, and candy to mean character, relationships, dialogue, then we know that any good story has BOTH. Fanfiction can sometimes get away with being all candy (fluff fic, aus, etc) and movies often get away with being all meat (can you remember the characters in various action films?). But generally speaking? You need that balance. Without candy, I don't care about your characters enough to give a shit if one of them dies in the meat. Without meat, there are no stakes, no tension, just some characters having meaningless banter that goes nowhere.

So with structure, you need both. You need a plot that's engaging and you need enough tension, twists, stakes in that to keep readers interested. But you also need to pad that out with periods of rest for your characters to speak to each other, show us things about themselves, and show their every day lives. We'll care more when we see what's being snatched away from them.

Ideally, you interweave this. Casual conversations will drop little tidbits in that foreshadow something that will happen later in the plot. Action sequences will have little interactions that tell us something about character relationships ie. one character protecting another.

Third point, read more of what you want to write. Look, ideally we'd all broaden our horizons and watch and read loads of things from different forms and genres and we'd all be great at media literacy. But let's face it: maybe you should watch Citizen Kane, but it's probably not going to help you write your fanfiction. What WILL? Reading fanfiction.

But also. You want to write experimental prose fic? Great! Read poetry. Read experimental prose flash fiction. Watch short films at your local LGBT film festival that absolutely bewilder you. You want to write long form ship fic? Great! Read romance chick lit. Watch rom coms. How are these structured? What styles do they use? How do they show love or growing affection? Then GANK IT. I'm stealing the entire "she can't order a sandwich" bit from When Harry Met Sally as we speak.

This also works for my math friends. You love a particular long fic? Want to structure yours that well? Gank it. Copy and past a chapter and see how long it is and aim fo that word count. That fic has 3 scenes per chapter? Aim for 2-4 yourself. 6? Aim for 5-7. How many chapters does it take for the oh oh moment to occur? How many times does the main couple speak per chapter? When does their inciting incident occur? Gank. It. You can't steal a chapter structure so reference it all you want.

And all of that is to say: if you struggle with structure, you need an outline. Check the fic you want to be most like and reference how long it is, how many chapters etc. Then make a bullet point list of each chapter, then fit your plot into it. Then expand it. Expand it some more. Put every detail you need to remember into this outline. Mine are generally 1/8th of the piece's total length. Then sit on it for a week and come back to it. Make sure you're following some act template, or your approximation of it for what you're writing. Make sure each chapter has plot progression and character introspection, meat and candy.

Bonus Round!!! Some random tips

If you struggle with description (LIKE ME) write dialogue first. It's just like rping with yourself and it can help keep your character voices solid.

Try to start and end chapters on engaging notes. One liners, cliff hangers, something to keep people waiting without pissing them off. True cliffhangers (near deaths, accidents etc) are often cliche, but can be done well. But leave a reader something to chew on, something to comment on, something to hypothesise about. Or even just a line you think fucks.

Can't think of a structure? Write now, figure it out later. One shots often don't need a strict structure, like I said-- sometimes you have the luxury of writing off pure vibes if your themes and characterisation are solid.

Refer back to canon. Call back to canon in text if you have to. But it's always good to have notes for what you're trying to do thematically-- would facets of your character's character interfere with your pacing? ie. yeah okay maybe the couple sleeps together at the chapter 7 point in fanfiction a lot, but if you're writing a character who would never do that, or a character who would have done that 5 chapters ago, then consider if that takes precedence over structure or if there's a reason for this point.

Having a solid chapter plan allows for foreshadowing, even for minor things in dialogue. And this is so so so so so so so fun please don't deprive yourself of this. I am literally kicking my legs writing Okay Cupid! right now. I think there are like 7 incidents of foreshadowing in chapter one alone. I love when a plan comes together.

If you want more writing/storycraft tips and theories: Save the Cat- Blake Snyder (Scriptwriting based) The general go to book for film structure, definitely solved major holes in my script-writing Into the Woods- John Yorke (Storycraft) A classic On Writing- Stephen King (Novel) Worth a read, solved a big character quandary for my personal work

Also I follow a number of writing tumblr blogs that frequently put tips on my dash: you might find these useful too, so I recommend having a scour!

x x x x x Research semiotic theory, such as Barthes (Death of the Author, Mythologies) or Chandler (Semiotics: The Basics). Also look at intertextuality and cross-border, cross-media analysis (Such as Henry Jenkins). This is if you're feeling adventurous and want to look at thematic structure in Homestuck and apply this to your work. You can write very good fic without ever considering this, so this is an if you're interested not a you must.

Anyway that was obscenely long because I do NOT know how to structure a neat ask response, but I hope this is all of some use to you! Good luck with your fic writing, and if you've any more questions shoot them my way!

[arathergrimreaper]

Damn job wants a diversity statement on top of a resume and cover letter.

If I were braver, this would be the one I send with my app:

I must admit, most of my diverse experiences in life come from being a diverse person forced to squeeze myself into a comfortable, digestible little box for others every day. Not to say work hasn’t given me things to think about and improve upon, but what I bring to every job comes directly from what life has been like for me and the friends I have made. 

My data analyst job? I already knew how high those numbers of high-risk pregnancies would be before my first day. As well as the disparity in healthcare between races, genders, and people with disabilities and no money. Not even because of that fancy degree on my resume either, but because of reading people’s direct experiences with it online and in books and hearing them say it to my face. To say nothing of how I have been treated as a patient by doctors my whole life as a noticeably biracial, chubby, femme-presenting person. I never needed data on a chart to tell me life is grossly unfair, not because of divine providence, but because of money to be made by people who don’t care how they have to make it. Yet, corporations and organizations only ever want to hear about The Charts. Water is wet and we all know that. It’s not a trade secret.  The facts and figures as they look in little white boxes with a green border is all you want because “that’s just the way it is”.  I support diversity…because I’m tired of “the way it is”. 

“Diversity statement” sounds like an unfunny joke at best and an indictment of professionalism at worst. Why are we adding yet another barrier to getting a job in this “golden land of opportunity”? It’s almost like employers don’t actually want to hire anyone but they want the cookie points of pretending they’re sleuthing really hard for simply the best candidate in the world for a position that most people probably only fill for about a year or two. Newsflash: The majority of my generation are never going to be decades-long workers. We can’t afford to be. Prices are going up all the time and we always have to look forward, because if we don’t, we witness the burning of Sodom and Gomorrah and are turned into the saltiest, deadest professionals to ever waste four years of our lives. That’s not touching on the student loan payments starting back up that many of us still can’t afford despite three years of deferment. And I have to write some silly statement outlining exactly the steps I’m taking to diversify—let me tell you something, every breath I take on this unforgiving rock is how I further diversity. Every day I chose to get up and keep going despite everything telling me to quit, is how I further diversity. That includes this smarmy performative excuse of an assignment to make me feel like I’m not worthy of anything if I don’t grovel for it. You people should be ashamed, frankly. 

I’ve spent three hours writing and researching what a “diversity statement” even is supposed to be. Funnily enough, there is no true definition I can look to and apply as a data analyst just trying to get a slightly better position so I can have a slightly better quality of life. I write ‘funny’, but it’s really more insulting than anything. Diversity is already here. And will continue to grow no matter what we do. We just don’t appreciate it or stand up for it or want it for anything more than to say we put out the flames when all we did was yell “FIRE!”.

#anya says shit #work bs #job hunting sucks

[tales-of-the-alchemist]

What Happened to Project Obsidian? Late Update

Hello dear followers of this blog and the former Project Obsidian members. As of right now, I found out I am the only person who has access to this account (unfortunately not the main Project Obsidian Blog). I figure it is time to post an update even if its two years late and I have long since moved on from this fandom. 

Who I am isn’t important. All you need to know is that I was very heavily involved within the project and my leaving this project helped to cause it to completely end. I won’t post names here, but for those who know, know exactly who I am talking about and the exact details. Heck, some people can even guess who I am just by these words alone.

It’s a long story that I will post below. The most important part is that I will update this blog with concepts and pages that never made it out to the public. I’ll try to credit whoever did it (though I do apologize if I forget who made them as its been two years and not everything was documented nor credited properly).

What Happened to Project Obsidian? Well, here is the story.

I was a heavily involved member in the Project Obsidian community and was even the “leaders” in the project. It was a position dropped on me suddenly just because I was just doing things that the group should already be doing. 

The project only started up as a thing between friends but quickly grew and spread. The problem was there was so much focus on promoting but not enough on the creative side. I was actually one of the first appointed group leaders and I was deeply upset that the project had yet to start. I was technically the first in line to get the project started anyways and with no direction or help from the higher ups, I decided to take things into my own hands. 

I gave out my team assignments and encouraged others to get involved and pitch their own ideas. I documented these ideas (those who remember this document know that I spent months updating this document constantly). This started to get everyone to actually begin to work on the comic which was exciting at the time. But... I was the one to kick start the project, not the leadership. I’m not trying to brag rather I am trying to state how much of this should of been a red flag at the start... and how I really should of left before this started. 

Because you see...the main problem with Project Obsidian is that one person wanted not the community involvement. Honestly, I do believe the person wanted to present only their set of ideas and using the excuse of it as a project to only set forth their ideas and everyone has to help bring their ideas to life. As a result, many creators never got proper credit and the person “in charge” was too involved in everything yet nothing at the same time.

I was the one who actually ran the meetings. I was the one checking up progress on everything. I was the one organizing. I did so many things yet I had no clue what my own job was actually supposed to be. I spent so many hours on this project that it hurts. 

This project has always been flawed with leadership and even I admit I messed up as well. I do try with best intentions even if I fail and I hurt others. I am sorry for whoever I had hurt during those times. 

I’d say probably one of the most major incidents in the project that really began to the driving wedge was the debate about Varian and the 7 Kingdoms (Vat7K). I am personally never a big fan of the possible spin off, but I do not hate it and I am glad others are able to create content. However, the person in charge didn’t like Vat7K at all. There was a rule within the server that banned posting any OCs that didnt belong to yourself or anyone in the server... which truthfully was just a rule to exclude Vat7K content. (I was foolish and never realized that was the case til it was too late). They wanted to ban 7K entirely and the rest of the leadership including myself didn’t want that. We wanted to encourage others to create content. (The person in charge also did gave a rather terrible comment to another person for posting that content). So, the person in charge gave us a compromise.... essentially they wanted us to blackmail the people who created Vat7K and send hateful emails to them saying they ruined the fandom and other horrible things. It still makes my stomach churn even writing it to this today. I’ll just say the compromise we made wasn’t much better and I was so tired with no sleep and always arguing and yelling that we made a stupid compromise and tried to get opinions from the server. Either way, I do admit I didn’t help despite my best attempts (though I do thank everyone who seemed to realize that I was just trying my best to have a peaceful and civil discussion and resolution. And everyone who checked up on me as a result). This marked the project with a bad stain and many people did leave. 

There were many more smaller incidents that honestly drove many of us up the walls. Too much harsh “critiques” which really was just outright mean, too much involvement where there shouldnt be (and didn’t allow the team leads to do their jobs), not enough guidedance from the people who should be doing their jobs (aka leadership), they didn’t want to credit people for concepts (a thing that i fought so hard about and was so mad about), etc. I was so overworked and tired to compensate for people not doing their jobs and the jobs they continued to pile on me.

This eventually cumulated to where one admin had left the server. Honestly, I do not remember what was quite the reason anymore. But the next part I do remember clearly. I basically was asking (for the millionth time) what is everyone doing and what not. The leader basically said I did nothing for the project and I was livid. For those who know me, I spent so much of my time dedicated to the project and my sleep schedule was nonexistent. I helped whoever I could and always tried my best even if I fallen short several times. I had easily over 30 things I did during the Project... most of it I did at the same time. Heck, I was even doing something for the project at the time we were having that discussion too.  

So, I quit. I cried, I wept. Months of work and my own life that I put into this project was now gone. It was a relief yet I was so upset too. I truly did love the project hoping it to become the project it should of been. 

It quickly became a shitstorm to put it lightly as the other leaders followed suit leaving and tired of the controlling behavior from the person in charge. We were never allowed to voice our own opinions and was constantly fought back. It was terrible. 

We tried to compromise and stating that we come back if the person in charge stepped back and gave the server ownership role to someone else. They would still be allowed to be involved in the project despite the many rules they broken that they set themself. They refused. So, we all left PO permanently.

To make sure the other group leaders weren’t surprised, we notified them ahead of time and already left a link to another project we started. (this is an entirely different story and reasons why I also left that project and the stuff that went down in there) 

PO quickly began to decline and fall out of favor. With that person only running the show, they tried to make it seem like everything was alright... but they were posting personal information about others about reasons why they weren’t participating or to compensate heavily for the many people who left. 

I still got dms about this which I did try to fix or notify them on ways to fix it. 

We even got accusations that we were spreading rumors about PO and how bad it is. (We never did and frankly discouraged any discourse about PO in the server. In fact, I was in another TTS server where they openly stated how they didn’t like PO and admitted to telling others not to join PO. This was by former members of PO- not anyone currently involved in the project or the other project ironically.) 

Then, one day... the discord server of Project Obsidian was deleted suddenly. It disappear. The person in charge had enough and deleted it without warning. 

All that remains is the folders of concepts that never got posted.

So, after ensuring nobody else has access to this blog (aka they left/quit this blog), I have sole custody of it as of right now. I still have access to many of the concepts because the person in charge couldnt delete them.

To which, I want to post all of the wonderful content made by the various of people involved with the project. I hope to credit those who were invovled, though I already know those who do not wish to be credited or be involved at all with the project anymore, hence I will credit them in a different way (aka I’ll give them a unique anonymous credit so you know it was made by one person but not another). 

It will be over a period of time but thank you to everyone who was a wonderful member of the community and for supporting this project. I will be opening the ask box and submission boxes if you have content you wanted to post when you were part of the project. Or if you want to have questions answered and I will possibly answer them as long as I can stay anonymous.

[palpipeen]

Caf Delivery Service: Caf Orders

So I got asked over on AO3 what caf Fox likes, so I figured I would list everyone's favorite orders. This includes Reader's order, as well as my OC (Reader's Boss) and the orders of a few of the unnamed Corrie Guard. Enjoy!

Putting this under a cut even if there is no NSFW Rating, Minors DNI!

Marshall Commander CC-1010 Fox:

So if Fox's vocoder was actually on, his order would have been the largest size Blond Roast with two pumps of sweetener syrup, room enough for 'milk' and three shots of espresso on the side. Which he then pours into a tumbler and nurses that over the course of the next hour. Is it more caffeine than anyone of his BMI/stress level should be consuming? Like four times the amount, but he's still kicking. (And twitching. And not sleeping.)

What he's actually getting is Reader's favorite drink, but it's usually slightly different. Partially because Reader gets bored of the same thing, and has been trying to test if Fox has been able to notice the differences.

He has, but he likes Reader enough that until the events of Caf Delivery, he hasn't said anything

Typically his drink is some variation of the following: largest sized Hoth Brew Caf with sweet cream, light ice, six pumps of sweet syrup and dairy-free milk. Lately Reader has been putting a type of spicy-sweet syrup for hers and Fox's.

Fox's personal order is just something that keeps him awake for his shifts, and then some. There's a bit of sweetness so the bitterness doesn't overwhelm him - but only just a little. It's like a kick in the teeth once it kicks in that keeps kicking, and some of the medics are shocked he's been able to last this long with the caf he drinks. His heart really should have stopped by now, or he should have passed out more...

The drink Reader gets for him has a LOT of caffeine too - but not nearly as much as what Fox would prefer. It's usually the perfect blend of flavors. Bitter, sweet, rich, creamy, spiced. A person has to savor it to really figure out what's in it, and Fox has spent plenty of time trying to do that. More than he'd like to admit.

Reader:

As said above, the caf Reader gives to Fox is the same as her own.

Reader changes her order up frequently and has seasonal drinks she likes, but hasn't been the delivery person for the Coruscant Guard long enough to expose Fox to that.

Typically Reader likes a lot of flavor - caf helps her stay awake, sure, but she also just likes to enjoy caf for a long time. Each day is slightly different, so each flavor is slightly different.

Right now her favorite is something that makes her think of Fox more than she'd like to admit. It's cold and a lot bitter, but there are the smooth undertones of sweet and creamy there, too. But there's also plenty of kick - that spice makes her think of how unpredictable Fox can be.

It also keeps her awake at night, just like thinking about Fox does.

But that's not all she likes. Really what she likes is what you - the reader - likes. This is just Flavor of the Month for Reader.

Commander Thorn:

Thorn is kinda basic ngl, but really he's just happy to be able to get something other than what the Republic deigns to give the GAR

Thorn usually also gets the largest size but he likes a Medium Roast, iced, with room for milk too. Only he actually puts milk in his and isn't a complete fucking freak like Fox.

He usually munches on the ice during debriefs, which medics get onto him for during dental exams bc they advance the severity of cavities

Oh he also asks for a dozen packets of a specific kind of sugar that are imports from Naboo. It's fancy sugar that usually doesn't melt all the way bc his caf is iced, which is again fine with him. He'll just chew on it since it's those big fat granules of sugar.

Thorn's caf is a staple at most cafes, and serves as the backbone of most cafes since it's usually everyone's go-to in places like Coruscant. But he likes things a certain way - something that will give him a diversion from the humdrum monotony, something sweet he can really sink his teeth into.

Sergeant Hound

Black caf, if he has to get caf every time. Biggest size they have, piping hot, and he'll down it all in one long go, the hotter the better. He likes to make eye contact with whoever is the most uncomfortable with it. (Usually that's Thorn. Poor Thorn.)

When he's able to get something else, Hound likes tea.

Hound also really likes the fruit infusion drinks, like a lot. It's about the text-sure.

The biggest size puppaccino they have. He halves it with Grizzer. No I am not kidding, this man loves this massif so much but also, mm whipped cream.

(aside: Syd was the one to introduce Grizzer to puppaccinos and gets ass mad at Hound if he doesn't bring Grizzer around AT LEAST once every few weeks to give him one)

Croissant Trooper

Precious lad doesn't always get a specific order, but when he does, it's a caramel frappe with basically half whipped cream

Now and then he spices things up and gets just the regular amount but then complains that it's not the same (it isn't, he's valid)

It might be basic but he's got a sweet tooth a mile wide

Blue Eyed Corrie Trooper

No one is sure where he learned this from, but Blue gets one of the most complicated orders ever and everyone is so endeared by him that they don't mind it

Blue gets the following:

Iced blond roast with ice on the side, three pumps of strawberry syrup, four pumps dark chocolate syrup, sour berry infusions, matcha powder, protein powder, soy milk on the side, and leave room for milk.

He swears by it but no one's been brave enough to try it

Bonus:

Syd

Hoth Brew Caf all the time all the way, babeyyyyy. Syd's worked in this cafe for far too long to not get some of the strongest shit this place can offer - they can barely function through a shift without the largest size there is.

They also have to brew it themself bc 'no one else gets the flavor balance right' - sometimes they let Reader do it, though.

Reader and Syd usually like a lot of the same flavor profiles, but Syd goes fucking ham with it. Sometimes they have to keep their mixture of syrups and sweeteners in a separate cup and just mix them on the fly.

Caf does not have the intended effect with Syd about half the time. Most of the time it just gives them ~spicy anxiety~ but others, they have literally taken a nap on their break after having some crazy high caffeine content caf.

(it's the untreated ADHD babes)

#Commander Fox x Reader #Barista!Reader #Clone Trooper Headcanons #Syd #I might do more of these for the other major clone characters

[thewidowsghost]

The Sky's the Limit - Chapter 14

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Previously:

"Are you okay?" Ward asks as Skye fails to hack through a firewall. He reaches over, resting a hand on Skye's wrist.

"How can you tell, superspy?" Skye questions.

"Staying unnaturally still to keep from fidgeting," Ward begins, "maintaining eye contact to give the impression of confidence. What's wrong?" he asks.

Skye leans forward with a sigh. "The last this I was in this booth, I was sitting across from Mike Peterson - a good man, and now he's a murderer. And we are FBI's most wanted. It's just," Skye scoffs, "like any moment, somehting could go horribly wrong."

Ward softens. "Relax. You're doing great.

"Hiding what I'm thinking and feeling, it doesn't come as easy for me as it does for you."

"Well," Ward shifts slightly, "it comes with experience."

"Yeah, I guess it does," Skye sighs.

Two police officers walk into the diner, sitting down at the counter.

3rd Person POV

"How much longer?" Ward questions as a waitress sets down another mug of coffee in front of Skye.

"Half-hour," Skye says automatically.

"You said that a half-an-hour ago," Ward replies, looking slightly miffed.

"Weren't you the one who told me to relax?" Skye asks a little louder, effectively getting one of the officer's attention.

"Those cops over there keep looking at us," Ward murmurs.

"They're just checking out the waitress," Skye says, smiling slightly. "They don't know you're pretending to be someone you're not."

"Yeah, all right," Ward chuckles, taking a sip from his coffee mug. "Who am I pretending to be?" Ward wonders aloud.

"My impatient boyfriend," Skye says, smiling on the outside but internally cringing.

"I like that cover," Ward admits.

A police car drives past outside, drawing Ward's attention to it for a moment, but Skye leans forward, trying to catch the HYDRA agent's attention.

"What's the longest you've been undercover?" Skye asks. "Like, deep undercover?"

"Uh . . . " Ward turns to face Skye, "sixteen months?" he guesses.

"When was that?" Skye questions, looking mildly interested.

"Mm, about five years outside of the academy," Ward recalls. "I posed as a Russian attache at the embassy in Warsaw."

"That's got to be so hard, living a double life like that -" Skye says aloud. "Getting close to people, only to turn on them." Skye scoffs. "I don't know how Garrett did it."

"Garrett?" Ward questions.

"Think about all that time he spent as your S.O. -" Skye tells him. "Getting to know you, being your mentor - only to lie to your face, betray you like that."

"It was, uh, difficult to accept," Ward says and Skye raises her eyebrows. "But thankfully that's over."

"Because you took care of him," Skye says.

Ward shifts uncomfortably. "Can we not have this conversation right now?" he questions.

"If you had one more moment before you shot him in the back of the head so heroically," Skye leans forward slightly, "if he was sitting right here, and you could say anything you want, would would you say?"

"Skye," Ward says warning.

"Would you say he's disgusting? That he's a disgusting, backstabbing traitor? Or to rot in hell?"

"What are you doing?" Ward asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I'm just trying to have an honest conversation for once," Skye says harshly, leaning back in her seat.

. . .

Ward shoves Skye to the ground, his eyes blazing with anger.

Skye looks up from the ground, hearing a person struggling. Skye's eyes widen with horror.

The figure struggling in Deathlok's arms is bloody, her face littered with cuts and gashes. Blood from said cuts and gashes drips down onto her cheeks and down onto the floor.

The figure lifts her head, and her eyes brighten when they fall onto Skye.

Suddenly, all the breath leaves (Y/n)'s chest and the collapses to the floor, grabbing at her chest. She wheezes, trying to fill her lungs with air.

"What - what - what did you do to her?" Skye asks, straining against the handcuffs keeping her against the staircase.

"I stopped her heart," Deathlok replies.

"Her heart . . . " Skye echoes, pulling against her cuffs again, her eyes widening with terror.

"Isn't beating," Deathlok replies. "She's having a heart attack. I can restart it or not. It's your choice."

"Skye," (Y/n) wheezes, her hands grabbing weakly at her own chest.

"Garrett doesn't think you're gonna let her die," Deathlok tells the brunette.

Skye stares at (Y/n)'s body, which had begun to still. "Okay, okay stop!"

"Where do you unlock the drive?" Deathlok asks.

"Bring her back!" Skye yells.

"Where?" Deathlok demands.

"Thirty-five thousand feet. It's not based on longitude and latitude. It's elevation."

"You're lying," Deathlok says.

"I'm not," Skye cries. "You! I - I put the password in and I - I start the hack. And once we reach altitude, it unlocks. Now bring her back!"

There is a whirring noise, and (Y/n) wheezes, greedily gulping in air.

Ward picks (Y/n)'s limp body up, as though she was a ragdoll, taking her to the cage.

Skye follows (Y/n)'s body with her eyes, having to stop watching her when Deathlok grabs the handcuffs, breaking them, and pulling Skye over to her laptop.

"Put the password in," Deathlok demands. "No tricks."

. . .

The BUS begins moving down the tarmac but it is stopped by a smaller plane.

"Maria Hill to SHIELD 616," Maria Hill's voice comes through the BUS's COMMs. "You have thirty seconds to stand down and surrender." Ward rolls his eyes. "I repeat, stand down and surrender." There is a silence. "You gonna answer me Ward, or do I have to come over there?"

"Maria Hill," Ward says through gritted teeth. "I kind of hoped you went down with the Triskelion," Ward tells the former deputy director of SHIELD.

"And I hoped you weren't the duplicitous lowlife you turned out to be, but here we are," Hill replies.

"Gotta be honest with you, Hill," Ward says, "I'm having a pretty bad day, so if I were you, I'd get the hell out of my way."

"Mmm, give up Skye and (Y/n), and we'll talk about it," Hill tells Ward.

"Yeah, that's not happening," Ward answers.

"You know, I never liked you, Ward, not since our first sit-down, but I never figured you for John Garrett's lapdog."

"Well, a lot of us lost respect for Fury when he picked you as his second. If he needed eye candy around, he could have at least picked Romanoff."

"Nastyiest thing I've ever heard," Natasha Romanoff replies, hovering over her girlfriend's shoulder.

"That's funny," Maria Hill says into the COMMs. "I'll tell her you said that."

"And she wouldn't like that," Natasha grumbles.

"Now hand Skye and (Y/n) over," Maria says into the COMMs, "or I'll have a squad of F-16s knock you on your ass."

"Even if you had that kind of pull anymore, which you don't, Coulson would never let you do it. He would never sacrifice Skye or (Y/n) like that. But you know Garrett would," Ward nods slightly. "So don't try and follow us."

"This doesn't have to go down like this, Ward," Maria tells the HYDRA agent. "You don't owe Garrett anything."

"You're wrong," Ward says, the engine revs and the BUS begins to roll down the tarmac.

Word Count: 1297 words

[bellascarousel]

All right, so today and tomorrow on Bella Talks Writing, I'm going to talk about the two fics I'm currently working on. (Nothing I've started has been back-burnered. But, these are the two that I have been actively writing on for the past several days). Today, that's going to be Let's Run Away Together.

What if Kate hadn't run away after that night in the gazebo? What if Anthony realized and admitted his true feelings a bit sooner?

After a few hours of passion, Anthony realizes that he cannot let Kate slip away from him. And he is through sacrificing everything for everyone else. It's time he and Kate both learned to live their own lives and go after what they wanted. One trip to Gretna Green later and the ton has a whole lot to talk about.

Pretty sure this was from another Twitter prompt. Anthony proposes the night in the gazebo and Kate accepts. For various reasons, they decide to elope. Lady Danbury actually becomes their biggest ally in this. I've gotten them through the wedding and the wedding night, so far. And then went back and showed some of what has been going on while they were gone.

I am personally loving how supportive Lady Danbury and the Bridgertons are. The Bridgertons are bending over backwards to find ways to welcome Kate and make her feel wanted. It's kind of adorable. Meanwhile, Kate and Anthony spent a large portion of the four day journey to Gretna Green having some much needed very long talks. (Though, I did not write most of those talks, due to planning on including them in another fic, and not wanting to be redundant.)

Right now, I'm having trouble writing the next chapter. I have an idea of some of what I want to have happen in it, but the transitions are kicking my ass, and I'm not sure I like what I have written of some of the more emotional scenes. So, me being me, I skipped ahead, and actually have a rather large chunk of the chapter after that written.

Kate's reaction to the Bridgertons being so sweet and welcoming is... not what they expected. The poor girl is seriously overwhelmed. And Violet and Anthony have started some much needed talks of their own about their relationship.

I have plans for this. I know where it's going. There are some rather interesting discussions between Lord and Lady Bridgerton and the Sharmas coming up. Anthony is not at all happy with his in-laws, and isn't afraid to tell them that. I have a conversation between Edwina and Queen Charlotte planned for during the first ball they attend, when Edwina finally really notices Kate. The start of her coming around is going to be quite beautiful, if I do say so myself.

But, now I also need a bit of help, LOL. I'm thinking of having at least Hyacinth and Gregory take to calling Kate "Didi". But, that begs the question of what Kate would call Benedict, Colin, and Gregory as term of endearment? What would she and Anthony call each other? And what will she ask to have Auggie call her? I know absolutely nothing of her native language, and trying to find this is giving me a migraine.

Anyway, the next chapter will be up as soon as I can figure out how to actually work the darn thing. And the one after that will probably not be much later, since it's already much closer to being written. You can find it here

#Bella Talks Writing #Let's Run Away Together #kathony #kanthony #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma