#i’ll find a way to make it work i can’t delete more shit

[jaeyunverse]

i am STUCK i wrote a hella long scene for the jeno fic and idk where it’s going but i don’t wanna delete either BUT IT MAKES NO SENSE BUT MY EFFORTS..

#i’ll find a way to make it work i can’t delete more shit #i actually need to add more shit bc there are more downsides of having a hot best friend than perks 😂😂😂😂 bitchlessness is showing. #also i thiiink i might be able to release before december first week lesgooo

[suuuupernovaaa]

Accident

Timothee accidentally posts a picture of you, blowing your cover.

The panic sets in like ice flowing through your veins. A tingling at your fingertips shoots straight into your heart. Your eyes are wide, your palms are sweaty. It takes you a few seconds to open up FaceTime and dial his number.

He answers right away.

“Timothee, what did you do?” you ask, your voice low in case he isn’t alone. Your boyfriend is never alone.

The smile he had upon answering fades into something dark. “What?” he asks.

“Instagram,” you reply. “Look at your instagram story.”

When he disappears, you do too, going back to the story. It’s a picture of you perched on a stone wall, looking down the side of a mountain Timothee and you had just hiked. You hadn’t even known he’d just taken it. Your hair was stuck to your neck with sweat, and only part of your face is visible over your shoulder, as you turn to look at him.

His hand is on your shoulder, gripping tightly, possessively, and a hint of a smile plays at the half of your face that’s visible.

You’re wearing one of his t-shirts, an old, plain black one, and the sunset ahead of you makes the picture look like art.

Maybe no one will assume, or wonder. Timothee isn’t even really in it. Just hand.

“Shit, Y/N,” he says, and you swipe back to FaceTime. “Should I delete it?”

“Um… no. Well, maybe. I think people will talk more if you delete it. Maybe just leave it?”

It’s not like he tagged you. You’re not in his following list, because no one is. You’re a total unknown.

“Okay,” he says, the panic in his voice subsiding. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “You don’t have to be sorry. It was an accident. And you can’t hide me forever.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re hiding you. I’m protecting you.”

A soft smile crosses your lips. “I know.”

He winks. “I gotta go, but I’ll have management keep an eye on things online. Call me after work?”

You nod and he blows you a kiss before hanging up.

—

Boy, were you wrong. You’ve been wrong about some things in your life, but never something this big.

They’ve found your instagram, Facebook, and LinkedIn within two hours. You’re getting dozens of requests by the minute, and you’ve never been more grateful to have your socials private before.

The workday passes in a blur of buzzing on your phone. Most of it is follow requests on instagram, but the rest is your friends and family sending you articles about Timothee Chalamet’s ‘mystery girl revealed’.

Timothee Chalamet & the Lawyer from NYC

Timothee Chalamet’s Secret Lover

Timmy’s girlfriend: we talked to her childhood best friend!

It’s endless and you start requesting they stop sending all the nonsense your way. Your mom calls to ask if you’re okay, and your actual best friend reminds you that you knew this day would come, and she’s here for you.

The comments on his latest instagram post are hard to look away from.

user he’s dating that sweaty beast?

user she looks happy!

user who the hell is she???

user FAT GIRLFRIEDN??

reply to user fuck off with your misspelled fatphobia

Eventually, you put your phone on DND to finish your day. The subway ride home is uneventful, and as soon as you set foot in your modest apartment, you call Timothee.

“Well,” he says as an answer, “now I might have to say sorry.”

Despite the stress of the day, you have to laugh. “Maybe. But, this was going to happen anyway. Though one article called me a ‘social climbing hussy’ and I didn’t love that.”

You throw your bag onto the kitchen table and put your boyfriend on speaker phone so you can find something to order for dinner. This day calls for Thai, or maybe Indian.

“Don’t read that shit, Y/N,” he huffs. “None of it matters. I’m like, really sorry people are going to bother you now. But I’m not sorry that everyone is going to find out how in love and happy I am.”

Your cheeks heat, even though he can’t see you. It hasn’t even been a year, but Timothee is already the most special and wonderful thing in your life, and it’s no wonder when he says things like that.

“I wish you were here,” you sigh.

“Me too. Only a few more days.”

—

You stashed your phone in your room to charge, and to avoid, and turned on the TV. Sitting cross-legged in front of your coffee table in your most comfortable pajamas, you’re about to dig in to the most delicious spread of Indian cuisine when the door buzzes.

Could they have found your address?

You get up and press the speaker. “Let me in! You’re not answering your phone!”

Your heart skips a beat and you’re unable to even respond as you hit the button that unlocks the front door. You stand frozen in shock until three loud knocks sound at the door.

Once it’s open, there he stands, and he’s not empty handed. He’s got what looks to be two dozen beautifully arranged roses along with a giant bag full of what you assume is chocolate and candy.

You grab him by the collar and pull him to you, wrapping your arms around his neck. It’s been weeks since you’ve seen him, and the scent of him erases every bad thing that’s happened in the past 12 hours.

It’s worth it, your mind whispers.

He sets the flowers and gifts down on the kitchen counter. “I did something, and I don’t know if you’re going to like it, but let me explain,” he says, a wincing smile on his lips.

You bring his face to yours for a quick kiss. “I don’t care. I’m so glad you’re here.”

He takes out his phone and hands it to you. It’s unlocked already, and instagram is open.

He’s made a new post, and your heart flutters.

It’s a picture from a few months ago, taken at a friend’s house. You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, and Timothee stands between your legs, both of you laughing, his hands in your hair and yours on his hips. You hadn’t even known your friend had taken it at the time, but it’s been his phone background ever since, he loves it so much.

The caption is simple. “Happy.”

Your reaction surprises you as tears gather in your eyes. “They’re going to really come after me now.”

“I know. And I am sorry. But, Y/N, I know privacy is important to us both… but sometimes, I just want to talk about how happy I am. I think we can find a balance.”

He wipes a tear from your eye.

“I’m proud to be yours, Timothee,” you reply, and his smile stretches ear to ear. “Really, really proud. I love you. I just want to be careful, okay?”

He kisses your nose, then each cheek, and pulls you into a tight embrace. “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect this, Y/N,” he whispers, and you squeeze him tight.

You’ll navigate this together.

#timothee chalamet fic #timothee x reader #timothee Chalamet #Timothee imagine

[morallyinept]

A full transcribe of FRANCISCO 'CATFISH' MORALES' dialogue/lines from the film TRIPLE FRONTIER

Includes full dialogue, and dialogue from any deleted/additional scenes available.

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to read the dialogue. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

☝🏻Dialogue has been fully transcribed by myself using reference to original scripts (if available), audio subtitles and using my own two ears. Therefore, mistakes can be made, however I have tried to be as fully accurate as I can. If you spot an obvious mistake, please kindly let me know. Where audio is not clear, I have marked with *inaudible* Scenes are separated for ease of reference.

FULL SCRIPT DIALOGUE:

(In Spanish) Hey! Everyday you’re uglier.

(In Spanish) Good to see you.

I don’t know man. I got the new baby now. And my lady isn’t into me doing this kinda shit any more. 

What happened to that bullshit about going back to your mother's homeland and empowering the people to police themselves? Anyway, I lost my licence. I can’t even fly right now. 

Yeah, I don’t think so. 

__________________

I didn’t mean to call your shit bullshit. 

I got busted. It’s not a big deal. Actually, it’s a big deal. 

Technically it’s a suspension. I’m still under review. 

Well, what about you, what are you gonna do? 

__________________

Yeah, Benny! 

When is it? 

Okay. 

__________________

Pope. Pope, I have kids over here. Does he have kids living in here with him? ‘Cause that's gonna make things whole lot more complicated and is not what I signed up for.

Why?

Why is she doing this? 

Man I almost forgot why I got out of this business. Shit gets so dark so quick. 

Benny. I got two guys on motorbikes coming your way. 

__________________

You were gonna piss yourself. 

Thanks.

__________________

(In Spanish) What were you thinking?  

Bullshit, you can’t help yourself. 

There were two vans in the courtyard. But if the family uses those vans to go to church, then we got nothing. So we need another van. Can your girl work that out? 

We don’t know that. 

__________________

Never spend your money until it’s your pocket, Benjamin!

How original. 

__________________

Actually, I think Mark Twain said that.

Seven getting in the van.

One guard secured in kitchen 

Your girl gave us up, Pope. We gotta get the fuck out of here. 

__________________

Like a serious fuck up. 

He’s gone, man. 

Careful. 

Guys! I got another wall over here!

It’s everywhere. It’s the whole fucking house. 

Okay. I'll get these last ones loaded down there, and you call out when you’re ready to light it up. Move, move! 

__________________

What are we shooting at in here?! 

Is that Lorea?

Good. 

The family? 

__________________

That’s three. 

Anybody got eyes on that SUV the guards came in? Because we’re gonna need it. 

Benny! Hey! 

What do we do up here? I’ve got the family waiting to go in. 

__________________

Your girlfriend’s here. 

Just load ‘em up here and I’ll weigh them. Where’s your guy? 

What the fuck are we gonna do with that thing? 

It won’t all fit in the net. We gotta get the rest of it inside. 

That’s 250 million dollars. 

If that scale is even close to being right we’re gonna have a weight issue. 

That’s 9,000 at 2,000 feet. If we want to get to the ocean, we gotta fly over the fucking Andes, man. 

Okay. She’ll make it. Let’s go. 

__________________

The weight drags at higher altitudes. I’d like to stay under 5,000 feet till we hit the Andes. Ocean in four hours. 

__________________

I’m gonna try between these two bigger peaks. Find this valley I saw on the map. 

Just one last push through the Andes. 

It’s gotta be 11,000. Can’t fly that high. 

I don’t know. 

All right, baby. All right, baby. Come on, now. All right, baby. 

It’s close, though. 

It’s too much weight. It’s too much fucking weight. We’re never gonna make it. 

It means we’re losing fucking money. 

Do you wanna get to the ocean? 

That’s feeling better. Come on. Come on. 

Come on. 

One of the gearboxes has blown. 

I don’t want to go into a spin. 

Okay, we might be in trouble here. 

I’m losing altitude. Ah, we should land. We should land now. 

I’m trying to get her back to flat. 

I remember it. 

I can’t land this with that bag under us. We should lose the money, maybe we don’t die. Lose the money, or we’re all gonna die! Hit the external load release. It’s on the wall! 

There should be a manual override on the cargo hook! 

Alright, I’m gonna try to land over here. 

Bad landing. 

__________________

Let’s move. 

Pope, what's he reaching for is that a weapon? Pope, do you cop-?

__________________

(In Spanish) Get back!

He’s up there. 

__________________

Dancing? We were dancing when we got on the plane to come down here. I would call this full intercourse. 

Yeah it is. 

I was too quick on the trigger. You know it and I know it. I killed those people. 

__________________

Just shut up and concentrate! Jesus Christ! 

Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! 

We’re all on the hook, are we not? 

Relax. Relax. We’re not picking at the fucking scab right now, okay? One foot in front of the other. Alright? Come on. Let's go. Jesus fucking Christ. 

__________________

Are you sure you want me to get rid of the mules?! 

Hyah! Hyah! Hyah! 

__________________

I’ll cut up behind you. 

__________________

I'm gonna say something. Are you listening? 

We gotta get back on our game. Enough of this. It stops now. You understand? 

Good. 

What? 

As many as I had to. 

How’s your sleep? 

__________________

What about the next town over? 

What do you mean, we just mow them all down? 

It’s alright. 

Good. 

__________________

Cover me 

I’m taking a shot

Uh-uh.

(In Spanish) Dumbass!

(In Spanish) Where are the keys?

Fuck!

(In Spanish) Vamos, Pope! 

Did you just give that fucking kid money? We should have killed that kid as soon as he saw our faces. 

I’ll tell you right now, if we get to that beach and Ben isn’t there, I’m fucking killing people. 

Come on! Come on! 

More are coming. 

Pope, shoot! Shoot the driver, what is wrong with you?! 

Where are they? 

Pope, kill them. Just kill them! 

I see it, I see it. 

__________________

I gotta get home. 

(In Spanish) See you.

__________________

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

#frankie morales #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #francisco catflsh morales #frankie morales triple frontier #triple frontier #frankie morales dialogue

[sevenpoyo]

this got deleted like 5 times this version is nothing like the original and i don’t know how tumblr works

By time you meet denji, he know you you work at the noodle shop or bakery and feed him and pochita. Or maybe he’s seen you with the yakuza guys he owns more money than he’s ever seen to, or maybe some t.v show or porno he watched second hand. Either way he knows you, but when you’re introduce yourself, saying the name that is distantly familiar to him, and looking at him with the most captivating eyes he’s ever seen. When you’re giving him a look so warm and all encompassing that makes him feel full like a hot meal from the old guy who thinks that denji is his grandson.

Your smile spells out warm fresh bread and sweet fruit jam as you ask his name once, twice, three times and the concern that overtakes your features at the fourth time you ask him, makes that full feeling turn into nausea. Like finding a bee hive and gourging himself on too sweet honey. He nearly collapses when your voice actually reaches his ears and he hears you talking to him, the gentle melody of “are you alright? are you feeling well? what the hell!? can you even here me?!?” You step closer looking for any indication of injury besides his despondency, and he’s knocked back into reality.

He has to say something back! You’ll probably get sick of standing here with him if he doesn’t! You’ll leave! every alarm in his brains is screaming it over and over and over! You’ll leave. You’ll leave! You’ll leave! You’ll leave! You’ll leave! You’ll leave. Look at you! Of course you weren’t sticking around!

You’re leaving! He feels that warm kind look leave him and he feels exactly what he is again, he’s a poor starving street rat who’s missed his chance of someone like you looking at him with soft, warm, nice feelings that he’s never felt and will likely never feel again. His one shot at being something to someone. lost. wasted. you’re turning around to leave the skinny mess of a teenage boy in front that couldn’t even respond when you asked him the most simple questions. Using all the strength in his body he sputters, forcing out breath that reeks of hunger into your face and finally coughs up his name.

“i’m uh- my names Denji. i’m fine! i can hear! i’m Denji and- this is pochita!” please look at him again. denji leans closer to see over your shoulder, please look at him. then you dig up a water bottle, and a granola bar and he’s in love. you’re staying, your gonna feed him, and he feels closer to heaven then he’s ever been. Maybe he’s dead, and you’re an angel. Denji didn’t much believe that he deserved to go to heaven- or that pochita would still be with him. but he thought all devils were inhuman looking, and you just looked lovely to him.

“ok then Denji, i’m gonna need your full name. i’m worried that you may be concussed. do you know what year it is? do you feel nauseous?” now he thinks it make sense if you were and angel angel’s use big words.

“huh? what’s concussed mean? and nas- noushis?” his mouth was watering as he fumbled to unwrap the granola bar.

“oh god! denji can you tell me where you live? are you parents home?” shit! he can’t take you back to his shack! you’ll leave for sure if he takes you to that shithole!

“i lost my house keys! that’s why i’m outside! and my head is fine! i’m just really hungry!”

“ok, i’ll just stay to make sure. do you want to go somewhere to eat or something? this place gives me bad vibes.” Wow, this has to be heaven. there’s not other way that this could happen to denji.

“sure! but uh.. i don’t have any money on me. ” he didn’t have any money at all, but why get stuck up on details?

“that’s fine! i’ll pay since we’re friends now, and we could put your little friend in my book bag!” you said referencing pochita. who is now running laps around the two of you,

that makes denji take back what he said earlier. this wasn’t heaven, you were.

#denji csm #csm x reader #denji x reader #denji hayakawa #denji my beloved #yandere csm #yandere denji

[queencolondarkwing]

AngelicaASMR’s current change

This post only about any info posted as of 7/25/2023 (will update in future if needed).

Ok so I’ve been following the Angelica Asmr shit pretty closely (don’t expect me to comment on gwen gwiz too because that girl is a grifter from the start). And as a mental health worker it REALLY freaks me out for her. I worked in a rehab for awhile. For people quitting drugs, but many of them also had bipolar, ptsd, schizophrenia, and similar diagnosises (some people also had the behavior due to being in crisis as well due to loss, recent homelessness, police brutality, etc.). So I know what psychotic breaks look like. I won’t armchair diagnose anything specific because I am not her medical provider, but while I can’t say she has anything for certain - she has a history of manic episodes in the past.

As someone with ADHD, a history of sexual and religious trauma, and c-ptsd like Angelica, I can honestly see how she fell into this. As someone who is also anti-capitalist, I can see why she thinks finding community would be beneficial (not sure why she would choose the Catholic Church instead of something from less individualistic, Eastern philosophy doesn’t make sense to me personally though...) to finding growth in an online era of isolation following a personal loss in her life. It seems weird how she went from talking about her Jehovahs Witness trauma from her youth...to going full on Orthodox, but I’ll get into details on why mentally this is actually super common in a minute.

I can also see how she would become a SWERF after having done OF, since as a former sex worker myself (camming, porn, fssw) who quit doing it after being raped - I can safely say that I myself am neither pro or anti sex work. I’m pro-decriminalization to keep workers safe, but also do feel a bit sick sometimes that MOST fssw on the streets are marginalized people. It is a complicated issue with nuance that non-sex workers have no business taking a side on. However, she is very hateful recently and anti-sex in general. Which is an issue.

She originally joined OnlyFans during a manic episode. So she HAS a history of mental illness and making major life decisions during mania. 

She went from pro-lgbtq to anti-lgbtq. Deleted her old progressive videos. Claimed to be a victim of MKUltra. Started making up delusions around the Catholic Church being anti-capitalist (Catholics individually can 100% be leftists, but the Church itself is VERY Capitalist). She posted homophobic and transphobic tiktoks where she would yell practically incoherently. Lots of staring. Inability to talk without looking away and laughing (she is normally a skilled actress).  Posting WAY more frequently than ever(she reposted 3 deleted videos last night and deleted them by this morning). She posted a video and lots of shorts and is way more active on Instagram. 

 The worst breakdowns I saw working rehab mostly always cycled through 4 topics: fame/self importance, inconsistent political and religious rambling, and sex. Always. Angelica has shown inconsistent spiritual beliefs (she has been mixing up Catholic, Orthodox, politics, and other religions). She has been focusing on sex in the context of trauma and posted a short of her in a bathtub on youtube again. She has been posting and immediately deleting content that has even positive comments on it.

Some medical signs of possible mania and/or psychosis that she is exhibiting:

Paranoia, trouble talking in a clear way/rambling, withdrawing socially (posting more often/online more but also alienating from her former fans), Confused speech, trailing off/lack of focus in videos, Generally disorganized way of thinking, no sign of restraint in expressing self, racing speech, goal-directed activity (seems to have a new anti-sex work goal), distractable/trails off topic, random giggling at nothing at camera like it is a person she is conversing with...etc. Tbh the amount of red flags I’ve seen are alarming.

I hope she gets support and help. And it is one reason I can’t blame her as hard as I would most, because she seems clearly unwell.  It isn’t an excuse. At all. And I don’t blame people for not supporting her going forward, but I plan to keep an eye on the situation for now and am hoping that somehow she can pull out of this shit, because I’ve seen this shit happen to a LOT of people with hard lives. Hell, I’ve even lashed out in smaller degrees and been delusional during my own ptsd breakdowns too, but when people are as far gone as Angelica is...I don’t usually see them come back again to the same state they were in previously. I’m hoping for the best, as a former fan and as a social worker, but Idk.

#angelica asmr #angelicasgrass #angelicas grass #angelicaasmr #asmr #asmr community #mental health #rape #sa #trauma #religious trauma #psychosis #breakdown #break down #mania #manic episode #homophobia #transphobia #mental illness #anti-capitalist #queencolondarkwing

[delfiore]

posso ancora aspettare

pairing: robin buckley x gn!reader

synopsis: in which there’s no happily ever after, because she loves someone else.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: ok this is awkward um not me showing up like weeks later after my last fic haha 🧍🏻‍♀️also tumblr was being a little bitch and shadowbanned tf out of me so if you saw me posting then deleting this multiple times no you didn’t 🫣

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“Oh.”

The word came out of your mouth like a squeak, a meek sound disguised as a happy surprise at the news Robin had just delivered. Though it wasn’t a surprise, to you nor to Steve—the only other person who knew Robin. You just thought you had more time.

“I can’t believe it. She said yes! Vickie agreed to go on a date with me.”

You were too shellshocked to even notice whatever facial expression Steve was making that prompted Robin’s excitement to cease.

“What?”

“I don’t know, Robin. She just came out of a relationship.

“So what?” Her tone grew annoyed.

“I’m just saying,” Steve leaned against the counter, his mouth hung open in search of the right words to say, “you gotta be careful, you know? She just broke up with her boyfriend, and this could be . . . a distraction.”

You looked up at Steve nervously, scrunching your eyebrows hoping he’d change his mind and apologize. He only looked back with a nonchalant shrug.

“Screw you, Harrington.” Robin mumbled, and walked away, towards the back of the store.

“Why would you say that?” You sighed.

“Am I wrong though?”

“No, but you didn’t have to rain on her parade like that.”

It was an asshole move, but you knew he was only trying to protect you. Only weeks ago had Steve tried all his might to tease Robin about Vickie, giving her lists upon lists as to why Vickie definitely likes girls too. You never meant to tell your truth, but you could never lie to Steve; he’d become like a big brother. And so on a random Tuesday night, in tears and with your head in your hands, you did.

“Please don’t do that again.” You pleaded, and hated the pitiful look he gave you following a short sigh.

Robin was reorganizing the closet with angry huffs when you peeked through the door quietly.

“Steve didn’t mean that, Robbie.”

“I don’t know what he means.” She slammed the stack in her hand down with a thud. “He’s being an ass because Heidi dumped him again, and he’s jealous. I mean, a week ago, he was bugging me to ask Vickie out, and I only did because he was bothering me so much. And now he wants to be all wary of her. Pisses me off.”

You didn’t know what to say. Frankly, you didn’t want her to go on that date either, but you couldn’t stand in the way of your best friend’s happiness, not when she’s been working up the courage to seize it for so long. Even if it destroyed yours.

“Hey, forget it, alright? Steve says stupid shit sometimes.” You tapped her shoulder with a small smile. “When’s your date? Come over before, and I’ll help you prepare.”

A smile quickly spread across her lips, as she pulled you into a tight hug. You chuckled, and ruffled her hair.

“Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Robin said, “you’re my best friend, and my number one, you know? I love you.”

“Of course I know.” You rolled your eyes, grinning.

“C’mon, say it back.” She whined, pulling your hand.

“No, it’s cheesy.”

“Say it baaaack.”

“Luh you tuh.” You mumbled, causing the girl to laugh, and bring her leg up to kick your behind teasingly.

You couldn’t bring yourself to repeat it properly, because to you it’s not the same, and it would be wrong to say it.

Falling for Robin was easy. As easy as it was to draw breath, to dip your fingers and watch them the disturb the still of the water at Lover’s Lake, to open your eyes and let the world paint a colorful palette in front of you.

You didn’t know whether crushes were easy to overcome (from observing Steve through his quest to find a girl you thought it was), but this wasn’t a sporadic infatuation. This was another feeling, another sensation entirely. It was all you’ve ever known since freshman year, when you saw her for the first time doodling in Gerhardt’s second period. Robin was you’ve ever known.

Robin, Robin, Robin.

But now, she liked someone else, again. Not you.

Never you.

You barely had time to think about that these days. Yet again, something from the Upside Down was terrorizing your home, and yet again, it was up to you and your friends to defend it.

Spending time with Robin during it all reminded you that you were still one of the most important people to her, and that you’d be content just being her friend—being in her presence was enough. But you were reminded of how much it hurt seeing her pine over someone else, and most of all, how much it hurt seeing her heartbroken. Stupid Vickie didn’t know what she was missing out on.

“Guess it wasn’t a date after all.” Robin mumbled before pushing past you and Steve, escaping the sight of her crush at the other end of the store aisle kissing, who seemed to have been the boyfriend.

There was a vile part inside of you that was glad Robin saw them together.

You had just finished a batch of spears, clumsily duct-taped together from pipe cut-out sections and kitchen knives. You couldn’t believe this was your life now; making weapons to fight inter-dimensional demon lords. Spring break in Hawkins, just wack.

You looked over to see Robin sitting by Steve making molotovs. He caught your gaze, quietly gesturing towards the girl before standing up to leave.

“Hey.” You took his seat.

“Hey.” There was a smile on her lips, but it was small and strained.

“You alright?”

"I don't know," Robin said, looking down at the incendiary device. "Nancy's got a plan, so I guess we'll be as best prepared as we can be. All that matters is that we keep everyone safe."

"Robs," you shook your head, "I asked how you are doing." You took her hand tentatively, and she didn't pull away. They were warm and slender, and they fitted perfectly intertwined with your own. You felt her eyes on you, as you continued stroking the back of her hand with your other hand.

"I just have this terrible, terrible feeling that this isn't going to work out for us this time."

Your best friend lowered her head, lips pressed tightly, and you hated seeing how much all this broke her spirit. Robin Buckley, the most positive and ready-to-problem-solve, was hunched over defeated at the thought of going up against the telepathic demon lord.

“Hey. Hey, look at me.” You let your hand pull back her hair from her face, your chest tightening seeing her glossy eyes. “We’re gonna be okay. We can’t die yet. We still gotta go to Europe, remember? Watch the sun go down in Champs de Mars, eat ice cream as we walk along the port in Monaco, right?”

This elicited a short laugh from the girl. She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “We don’t even have money for that yet.”

“Then we gotta go make some.” You smiled, encouragingly. “After we fight Vecna . . . slash Henry, slash One, whatever.”

“Okay, dingus.” She said, putting a hand up to your face, and pinching your cheek lightly. “You win.”

Her eyes, blue like the sky, found a home in yours. You wondered how a pair of eyes could feel so much like home, and how easy it was to fall in love with them. You didn’t need to ask anyone—certainly not Vickie—you knew what that was like yourself. You loved Robin so much, and you didn’t know what you were going to do if she left your side.

You settled for a kiss on her cheek, and a firm hug, choking back a confession when an overwhelming sense of love enveloped you, as you did her.

You were to go to Eddie and Dustin to distract the Demobats so that everyone else can go on with their plan. With much persistence from Robin, saying that it was where you’d be most safe, you watched with a worried frown as Robin slung her backpack over her shoulder.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her; she looked so good, so brave, even though you knew her hands were shaking.

“Be careful, okay?” You said, trying not to let your weakness show.

“You first.” Robin smiled, and you brought her into your arms to hold her tight before you said anything you'd regret.

Robin sighed and squeezed you back with the same affection, as you placed a firm kiss on her cheek. She prayed for your safety, so that she could clutch onto you afterward, tell you all about how the date with Vickie made her realize that they were too similar for her to like her bandmate in any sort of romantic way, that she had been burying her feelings for you out of respect for your friendship, and that she would regret it for the rest of her life if she didn't say anything now.

The thought of you consumed her, so that even while her body moved through the woods behind Steve and Nancy, her mind was with you, watching you with Eddie and Dustin, wanting to fend off whatever posed a threat to you. She imagined your pursed lips, anxious, wandering eyes waiting for the strike to come, then she'd imagine you wounded, and get the coldest sense of dread running down her spine.

"Hey," Steve stood back when he saw her steps slow down, "Robin, you alright?"

"I think I'm in love with Y/N." She said, and there was no hesitation in her voice.

Steve only sighed, wishing his best friend would have realized sooner. It would have spared both you and her a lot of time.

“Let’s finish this, and then you can go ask them out, alright?”

With a heavy heart and desperate longing, Robin kept marching until she reached the vine-infested mansion in which Vecna resided.

They went along with their plan, yet by the end of it, Vecna’s body was nowhere to be found after he fell out of the window, shattering the glass in the most dramatic of fashions. The vines that broke off from his body were still moving like forgotten maggots on the floor. The fight was not over, but they have won for now.

Robin was the first to run back to the trailer park in the Upside Down, hoping to catch you. She was fantasizing about how she was going to tell you everything that she’s been feeling, that she didn’t even notice at first that you were nowhere to be found. Dustin was sat on the dirt with his little head in his hands, sobbing.

“I’m sorry.” Eddie approached her cautiously, and she saw the worst.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Steve has had to make several food runs the past two days, so much so that his wallet had been depleted (not that it ever was full in the first place), and the boy begrudgingly drove back home to the other end of town to get some more cash. Lucas was a bit more willing to eat. Seeing him munch on a sandwich halfheartedly as his eyes glued on Max’s lifeless body roused the dormant fatherly sentiments in Steve that only ever get to strong for these reckless yet brave teenagers he’s been babysitting.

He dreaded going into the room next to Max’s, because he hated seeing both of his best friends in such distress, one of them stuck in a limbo of life and death and the other mulling over it as if she had already lost them.

“Hey,” he said, “got you some jelly donuts.”

At the silence from the girl, and the incessant beeping of the machine—the only indication that you were still alive—Steve set the food down on the nightstand next to Robin.

“Hey, you gotta eat something, alright?” Uncharacteristically calm and quiet, he murmured and placed a hand on her shoulder. “After that, go home and get a quick change of clothes. I’ll be here.”

“No.” She shook her head quietly, her hands never leaving yours; it was cold and limp.

“Robin—“

“I have to wait,” She said. “I have to be here when Y/N wakes up to tell them that I love them.”

Your face was eerily serene, like stuck in a deep sleep that you couldn’t wake up from. The doctors were puzzled by what kind of animal bites that plagued your sides which caused you to go into septic shock and, subsequently, your current comatose state. You might wake up tomorrow, next week, or—they feared at worst—never at all.

“I’ve waited for so long,” Robin brought your hand up to kiss it, “I can still wait.”

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley imagines #robin buckley angst #robin buckley imagine

[sonosvegliato]

To an Athlete Dying Young: Deleted Scenes Pt 1

The original draft of Tim and Kon in the Hall of Justice in my fic And hold to the low lintel up/The still-defended challenge-cup. Featuring a McCrispy. 

Completely unedited.

“This is going to turn out so bad,” Superboy says.

“No, it’s not,” Tim says. “Either this works, and I’m a genius, or it doesn’t, and I find another way out. There are one hundred and forty seven listed in the blueprints I got from Batman’s computer, and thirty six more he’s detailed that are unmarked. But I’m not really supposed to know about those.”

“This is going to turn out so bad,” Superboy repeats. 

“Shut up, no it’s not,” Tim repeats back. 

“They’re going to know we’ve left,” Superboy hisses. “This is a horrible plan!”

“I want them to know we’ve left.” Tim’s sitting on Superboy’s shoulders and kicks him in the chest. “Now get in the tube.”

Superboy steps onto the Zeta platform. “I just want you know, if we end up on Mars, I’m not taking you back.”

Under New York Avenue is the closest Zeta tube, and Tim makes sure to shout it very clearly. Sewers, but. He can’t exactly pop out on the White House lawn. 

“B-20,” the tube accepts. Tim’s arms tighten on Superboy’s shoulders. “Robin.”

“This is so bad,” Superboy repeats as they’re reduced to photons through space. “This is so bad this is so bad this is—”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Incredibly demeaning,” Superboy says.

“Sorry, my car is talking,” Tim says to the McDonalds employee taking their drive-through order. “He wants the Number 1 with…”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Why were all the machines broken?” Superboy grumbles.

“It’s part of the experience,” Tim explains patiently. They’d had to scout out four McDonalds before finding one with a working soft serve machine. “Crushing disappointment, or eight hundred calories of delight? It’s fast food roulette.”

“And I just don’t get the spoons,” Superboy continues. They’ve been sharing a large fry, and he glares into the empty carton like it’s a multidimensional portal that ate his fries instead of Tim. He throws the carton aside.“Why are they square?”

“I used to think they were straws?” Tim supplies, licking an Oreo off his spoon. “If I had my phone, I’d look it up, but Batman has a fear of location-sharing. He made me duct-tape my front camera.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.” 

They eat in companionable silence. Tim feels Bruce in the doorway before he hears him, a dark blot in the corner of his vision. Tim scrapes Oreo crumbs from the inside of his cup before meeting Bruce’s eyes, domino to cowl.

“Oh, hey, Batman.”

“You went out?” Bruce replies, voice rough. “Into the city?”

“Maybe,” Tim says. He frowns, searching for one last bit of Oreo in his McFlurry’s vanilla bottom. “We wanted McDonalds.”

He kicks Superboy’s ankle.

“I’m only three weeks old,” Superboy blurts. “I’ve never had McDonalds.”

“And he can’t be a proper all-American boy without McDonalds,” Tim says. “Maybe that’s why he doesn’t have heat vision. Maybe pink slime alters Kryptonian genes and that’s what gave Superman his ocular powers.”

“McDonalds did not give me X-ray vision,” Superman says, though he squints at his hamburger for a second before taking another bite. 

Bruce tears a hand through the air at him. “You let this happen?”

Superman stiffens. 

“They got me a Big Mac,” he was smally. “I thought you’d sent them.”

“Relax, Batman, I got you the Spicy McCrispy,” Tim says. He reaches in the last brown bag and tosses the sandwich to Bruce. Bruce catches it in one hand and then points outside. 

“Out.”

Superboy leans into Tim. “Still think this was a good idea?” he whispers.

“Sit down, Superman, not you,” Bruce growls. “Robin.”

“Going perfectly to plan,” Tim whispers back, rising. Louder, he orders, “Don’t eat my chicken nuggets.”

“I’ll eat whoever’s nuggets I want,” Superboy mutters as Tim follows Bruce out into the hall. They walk a long time before Bruce stops and turns, a looming shadow that towers over Tim. 

“Do you not like the Spicy McCrispy?” Tim asks, speaking first.

“Do you think this is a joke?” Bruce bites back. He doesn’t shout, but the timbre of his voice reverberates in Tim’s chest, cracks his courage like an egg. He’s very aware of the pressure in his jaw, and fights to keep his expression open and passive. He’s glad for his domino and what little emotional protection it provides. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says measuredly.

Bruce’s shoulders stiffen, and he seems to grow inches taller. Tim doesn’t know how. Is it a Batman thing? Will Tim learn how to do that? 

Bruce’s voice is Gotham winter cold as he counts off his fingers. 

“You left the Hall without my permission,” Bruce begins. “You take a dangerous, unknown entity with you. You go into the city by yourself. Then you expose yourself to the American public riding Superman’s clone through a McDonald’s drive-though.” He pushes the wrapped chicken sandwich in Tim’s face, voice dropping further. “Are you sure you don’t know what I’m talking about?”

“I’m sorry,” Tim says.

“Do you know how many people saw you today?” Bruce barrels on.

“I don’t know. We had to go through more than one drive-through—”

“How many pictures were taken of you?” Bruce asks over him. “How many are currently being shared over every social media and news site? Robin’s been gone for over a year, and you’ve just announced his return to every rogue in Gotham.”

“Have I,” Tim says. 

Bruce’s mouth tightens. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats quickly, giving ground. “But. If it’s 11 o’clock at night in Gotham or 11 o’clock in the morning at a McDonalds, the media was eventually going to see me. Robin’s been gone too long. Isn’t it good he comes back?”

“No!” Bruce snaps, arms flaring out. At Tim’s expression, his instantly cools. “Not right now. You just got the suit. You’re not ready for the streets.”

“But I will be, soon,” Tim says earnestly. “Right?”

“Tim—”

“I’m getting good. You have to let me out of the nest sometime. At least let me start shadowing you. I won’t let anyone see me; I’m really good at hiding in the dark—”

“No,” Bruce says fiercely. He shakes his head. “We’re not discussing this. You—” his expression closes. Tim can see him struggling with his emotions before shoving them down like leftovers in Alfred’s good tupperware. He takes Tim’s hand and puts the sandwich in it. The paper crinkles in Tim’s palm. “You’ve disappointed me.”

Tim stands there, a McCrispy in his hand, and watches Bruce walk away. His heart is beating so hard he feels sick. His grin is shaky, but by the time he returns to Superboy, he’s convinced himself that the stone in his stomach is victory. 

#my fic #timkon #i guess? #tim drake #superboy #in a mcdonalds

[cascowriteswords]

4 in the moment kiss where they’re enemies to lovers. Maybe coworkers? 🤔

I technically cheated and combined these two but I think it's okay because it ended up being over 3k words 😅

...

“How do I say you’re fucking insane if you think I’m doing all of this without getting fired immediately?” Clarke asks Raven, who sits in the cubicle across from hers. 

“The new boss?” Raven asks, still typing away without taking her eyes from her screen. Looking to be just about as overloaded as Clarke feels. 

“Yeah. She’s already getting on my nerves because she’s rescheduled our initial meeting like 4 times now. And she keeps sending me things that don’t even have anything to do with my department. I’m the director of People and Culture. I'm not a recruiter. I’m not in marketing. And I’m sure as shit not her personal assistant either. And it’s like -” she glances at the corner of her screen for the time “3 o’clock. I’m supposed to do the jobs of 4 people and still get out by 5? Or does she expect me to pull overtime on a Friday night? Like there’s no way I could possibly have plans. Maybe she’s one of those people who thinks that just because I’m not married and don’t have kids she can shove off everyone else's work on me.”

“Lexa’s a busy person Clarke. I really don’t think it’s personal.”

“Personal or not, it’s not fucking happening. So help me with this email or else your next cube neighbor might be some insufferable old white guy whose all-natural deodorant is just really not working for him.”

Raven relents, finding a stopping point in whatever exactly she’s doing to get up and shoo Clarke out of her chair. She ends up deleting 98% of what Clarke had written, swapping out phrases like “why the fuck didn’t you tell me you needed this done sooner” and “that’s not my fucking problem” with more diplomatic phrases such as “I’ll schedule those meetings for you at your earliest availability” and “I wasn’t involved with that project but I will forward your request to the appropriate parties”, respectively. 

“You’re weirdly good at that for someone with the smartest mouth I know,” Clarke commends her when she’s finished. 

“It’s all about balance, babe. Now can I please get back to my job? Or the Commander’s going to fire us both. Maybe your mom will let us turn her study back into your bedroom and we can crash there when we can’t make our rent next month.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. Then something registers. “Wait. The Commander? Is that what people are calling her?” she asks, a mixture of disbelief and disgust seeping into her voice. 

“Yeah,” Raven shrugs. 

“I get that she’s the boss but she’s not commanding me to do anything,” Clarke grumbles. She plops back down in her chair and starts typing angrily. 

“If you add anything to that that gets you fired after I just rewrote the whole thing for you I’m going to be so pissed,” Raven warns. 

“I’m not,” Clarke promises. “I just don’t want her to think she can walk all over me. Command me,” she adds, rolling her eyes. 

She ends the email with Hope this helps, let me know if you would like to meet with me to go over the roles of our departments and their directors to avoid misallocation of time and resources in the future and hits send. She hopes it's just passive-aggressive enough to get the message across without being able to be used against her.

She goes back to work, furiously attempting to complete the tasks The Commander had unloaded on her. She may not have kids or a significant other waiting for her at home but she does have a cat and a bottle of red wine and a new episode of her favorite shitty reality TV show to watch. 

So far the new boss has taken 2-3 days to return any of her emails. So she isn't expecting it at all when she gets the notification that someone has replied to the email she just sent an hour ago. 

That sounds like a great idea. Come up whenever you are ready. 

Clarke's initial reaction is oh shit. Followed in rapid succession by annoyance and frustration when she has the realization that it's already past 4 o'clock now and this means she most definitely will not be getting out on time, not that there was much hope she would, anyway. But still. 

She needs to learn to keep her big stupid mouth shut. 

"It was nice knowing you," she grumbles to Raven as she gets up and smooths the wrinkles from her slouch out of her shirt. Raven quirks a brow but seems otherwise unfazed as Clarke shuffles toward the elevator and her impending doom. 

…

…

Clarke knocks three times, half hoping to not be heard so she can say she tried and return to her desk. 

No such luck. 

“Come in.” The voice is muffled by thick oak and considerable distance but Clarke manages to catch it. She steadies herself and lifts her chin, prepared to simultaneously defend herself and give The Commander a piece of her mind as she opens the door and steps into her office. 

She’s wholly unprepared for the woman she finds sitting behind the desk. 

She isn’t sure what she was expecting but it definitely isn’t this. Lexa looks young, for starters, nearly the same age as Clarke. Her features are somehow both delicate and sharp, with high cheekbones and pouty lips and big round eyes that Clarke can’t quite figure out the color of at first glance. Chestnut hair is piled up on top of her head in a messy bun like it was originally down but she’d had enough by the end of the day, strands towards the front not contained by the hair tie and instead framing her face. 

Clarke’s first impression is that this might be the most attractive woman she’s ever seen in her life. Her second is that she looks tired. And her third, more of an observation than an impression, is that it looks like a bomb went off in this office. There are papers literally scattered all over the floor, boxes stacked along the walls and windows that would normally boast an expansive view of the skyline, and the couch against the far wall looks like it’s been functioning as a dresser and changing room of sorts with slacks and button down blouses draped over its back and arms. 

Between Lexa’s unexpected prettiness and the warzone that is her office Clarke momentarily forgets why she’s here and that she was even mad to begin with. 

“I apologize for the state of my office,” Lexa says, likely having followed Clarke’s gaze around the room. “It’s been a whirlwind trying to get everything in order around here. Titus gave us no warning about his departure and apparently was trying to run this company into the ground, by my estimations after going through what I could of the data.” She sighs, finishing scribbling something down onto a sticky note which she adds to a pile of other sticky notes on the left side of her desk. “Sit, please,” Lexa tells her, gesturing to the chair on the other side of her desk. 

Clarke has that tongue-tied feeling that she only gets around pretty women. And that - cannot be how she feels sitting across from her new boss, especially not as the leader of People and Culture. She forces herself to speak, reminding herself why she’s here and what her end goal is; to not get fired while also putting her foot down about the scope and limitations of her role. She decides to get right down to business, voicing her concerns, and finds Lexa to be… a very good listener. She listens so well and intently, in fact, that Clarke almost finds herself losing her train of thought because those eyes. 

And then she does something Clarke had absolutely not expected her to do - she agrees with her about the general mismanagement occurring and state of disarray in the company and asks for her input about the best way to move forward. She apologizes for sending a slew of information and tasks her way and explains that she never meant for Clarke to complete all of that work on her own or immediately but rather to delegate and get to things when she had the time. She thanks Clarke for her hard work and dedication and tells her that even though this is their first formal meeting she’s well aware of the hard work she does and is very thankful for her contributions to the team. 

Clarke’s been working in corporate culture long enough to be able to tell when someone is just blowing smoke up her ass. When scrutinizing Lexa’s words, all she gets is that she seems like one of the most genuine, down-to-earth people she’s ever met. She’s just swamped, stressed out, and working insane hours trying to fix all of the various fuck ups Titus made over the past 4 years as CEO. 

Very much to her surprise, she finds herself sympathetically offering to help Lexa get some things sorted out. And again to her surprise, she finds that she doesn’t mind staying and working in Lexa’s office with her, spending time helping her delegate work to other departments and creating a realistic timetable for the next few weeks with attainable goals. Clarke tells funny stories about some of the department heads as they work and Lexa spills secrets about the board members she works with after swearing Clarke to secrecy. 

She doesn’t even realize how much time has gone by until Lexa glances at the clock on the wall and looks at her from across her desk, stricken. “You should go home. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it’s already after 7. Thank you for all of your help, you really didn’t have to do all of this.”

Clarke didn’t have to. She definitely did not expect to want to when she had sullenly ridden in the elevator up here. Raven probably thinks she got herself kicked out of the 5th-floor window since she never came back to her cubicle. But now she finds herself reluctant to leave, especially knowing that Lexa will likely be here all night continuing to work. 

“Did you have dinner yet?”

Lexa looks up from her computer screen slowly. “I haven’t.”

"You just moved here, right? Have you been to Tomatoes yet?" 

"I haven't," Lexa says again. 

"It's a little hole-in-the-wall spot. Kind of…lackluster, but their tacos are to die for and the bartender is awesome. Would you want to go?"

"Now?" Lexa asks, pointedly surveying her desk that is, despite having been organized, still loaded with paperwork to be sorted through. 

"Yes, now. You've been here all day - I know because I've been here all day and you were here before me. Those papers will l still be here Monday." Lexa looks doubtful as she chews the inside of her lower lip. "Or tomorrow if you insist on working the weekend. But let's be done for the night. Both of us." 

This is so not how Clarke thought her night would go; standing in front of Lexa, her boss, The Commander, and trying to lure her out to the bar for tacos and a drink. Genuinely hoping she'll accept because even though they've been working she's actually had the most fun she's had in a while and she's not quite ready for it to end. 

Lexa looks at her thoughtfully, meeting her eyes. She glances down at her desk once more and then exhales, tossing her pen into a drawer as she shuts down her computer. She stands up and grins at Clarke as she takes her jacket off the back of her chair and shrugs it over her shoulders. 

"Alright. Let's go try these tacos, then." 

…

…

“You have to be kidding me.” 

Lexa turns around and hits Clarke with a smug, triumphant little smile. Then looks back at her achievement, a dart nestled solidly in the red bullseye circle of the dartboard, surrounded by Clarke’s failed attempts scattered haphazardly across the board. She’d gotten it on her first try, standing several feet further back than she even had to.

“You lied to me. There’s no way you’ve never thrown a dart before.”

“Do I look like I frequent establishments that have dartboards, Clarke?” Lexa asks, quirking a brow in challenge. 

No, she doesn’t. Not in the pantsuit she’s wearing, even after she shed her coat and blazer shortly after they’d arrived. One half of her shirt has come out of its tuck and the top few buttons are undone, the collar sagging open and offering the view of just a hint of collarbones on either side. Her cheeks are a little flushed from the one beer she’s had and she looks messy but somehow still put together. She’s undeniably beautiful, and she stares at Clarke expectantly waiting for some kind of comeback, unaware that Clarke can hardly think when she’s standing there looking like that. Existing in her space. Out of her comfort zone but still self-assured and confident. She’s unbelievably attractive, beyond what Clarke had even perceived when she got her first look at her earlier in the day. 

She’s so screwed.

“No, you don’t,” Clarke admits with a sigh. “I’ve been trying for months to get a bullseye. You must just have some kind of natural technique with your fingers.”

Lexa opens her mouth to say something, then seems to think better of it. But Clarke’s not having any of that. “What were you about to say?” she asks. “I don’t need you to pity me, Raven kicks my ass at darts on the regular.”

Lexa doesn’t answer right away, looking at Clarke like she’s searching for something. Clarke can’t tell if she finds it but waits patiently. “It’s not appropriate,” she says after a moment. 

Interest - piqued. “We aren’t at work right now,” Clarke reminds her. 

“But you’re human resources, essentially,” Lexa laughs, a little nervously. “Seems like a grey area.”

“We don’t call it HR because of the negative association that’s been tied with it over the years. Like this, it makes people nervous. So yeah, I’m technically HR, but I’m not a narc. And you’re the CEO anyways.”

“Which makes it an even greyer area.”

“Lexa, come on. We’ve been having a good time, right?”

She nods. Weighs her options for just a few more seconds and then says, “I was just going to say that I’ve been told I have a natural technique with my fingers before. In…other contexts.”

It takes a second for Clarke to process and then - oh. Oh. 

She’s glad she hadn’t taken another sip of her drink because she might have choked on it. 

She swallows, trying to gather herself, absolutely not letting herself take a closer look at Lexa’s hands because she’s already noticed that they’re nice but she hasn’t scrutinized them beyond that. “That was extremely inappropriate, Miss Woods,” she says, calling on her stern business-woman voice that she’s perfected over years of dealing with employee relations issues. 

Lexa’s eyes widen. “Clarke, I told you that I didn’t want to overstep. I’m sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have -”

Clarke doesn’t have the heart to watch her flounder for more than a few seconds. She cuts her off. “It was inappropriate, but I didn��t say I didn’t like it.” She feigns more confidence than she feels as she puts a hand on Lexa’s knee reassuringly. A small gesture to make it so that Lexa isn’t the only one who has crossed a line tonight. Lexa looks a little shell-shocked, looking up and down between Clarke’s hand and her face enough times that it’s almost comical. Clarke squeezes her leg once and then lets go, standing up from the stool she’d been sitting on as she watched Lexa play darts. “Come on, let’s go sit at the bar. The next thing I want to make you try is their southwest egg rolls.”

She grabs Lexa’s hand like it’s no big deal at all and pulls her towards two open seats. 

…

…

Clarke’s not sure that Lexa has ever eaten greasy bar finger food before but the southwest egg rolls are definitely a hit. The noises Lexa makes as she eats them tell her as much, and also do things to her. But they don’t affect her half as much as watching Lexa amicably interact with some of the old townies who are also sitting at the bar with them. It turns out Lexa knows enough about baseball to hold her own talking to Bonafide Baseball Expert Jim McDonnel and she doesn’t bat an eye when a very drunk Mary Lou bumps into her seat and then talks about her 13 cats for five minutes until the bartender mercifully calls her attention back down to the other end of the bar where her actual seat is. 

Clarke feels a little bad for subjecting high-class Lexa to this place but she doesn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, when she turns to look at Clarke her eyes are bright and her smile is genuine and she says, “Thanks for showing me this place. It’s great.”

Clarke kind of adores her and her big dopey smile. And that’s a really scary thought to be having about her boss of all people but she’s rolling with it. Whatever it is between them, chemistry or connection or some other unnamed thing, it’s off the charts.  And Clarke can’t take it anymore, especially knowing that the night is starting to come to a close. 

Lexa is already sitting close enough that their knees are knocking together and it’s not much distance to close between their mouths at all. She doesn’t have the tact or inhibition to do it slowly, just leans in and kisses Lexa like she’s been wanting to do all night. It’s heated and languid immediately and she finds Lexa only needs a fraction of a second to adjust to her surprise before she’s kissing back, open-mouthed and hungry. 

It’s stupid Jim McDonell’s hooting and hollering that breaks them apart less than a minute later, reminding them that they’re very much in public and kissing in a way that is very much not chaste. 

A realization that is quickly followed by the fact that Clarke just kissed her boss. “Sorry,” she says quickly, trying to catch her breath. 

Lexa holds her gaze. Licks her lips like she’s trying to taste what’s left of Clarke on them. Clarke tries not to visibly squirm in her chair as she watches, and looks back up when Lexa finally says something. “No you aren’t.”

Clarke’s alma mater would probably revoke her degree if they heard her response. “No, I’m not.” Lexa smirks, then not so subtly looks at Clarke’s mouth, desire clear in the intentness of her gaze. “Do you want to get out of here?” 

When Lexa’s eyes flick up they’re darker than they were before. Heat flares in the confines of Clarke’s lower stomach and settles between her legs. “Very much so.”

Clarke’s hand flies up, flagging down the bartender to close out their tab without taking her eyes off Lexa. She tips generously and laughs when Lexa grabs her hand and tugs her hurriedly back towards the car. 

On second thought, maybe she should open her big fat mouth more often.

#thanks for asking buddy! #and anon who asked for 7 too! #clexa drabble #clexa kiss prompt #clexa kisses #clexa

[neverluckygoldfish]

47 -

Lately I’ve been feeling a sense of peace within myself. It’s really nice but I can’t help but wonder when it will go away and I’ll be back to the me as I’ve always known myself: melancholy, aloof, insecure, anxious…

But what if it stays?

Been trying this new thing where I trust my intuition (my greater She) in how I behave, the decisions I make, the things I say. I’m starting to trust in myself to choose the right thing over what’s easy or simply status quo.

I have faith that if one door closes, a window will open. Because it always does.

While I don’t have it all figured out yet, not even close, I’m trying to relish each present moment - the joy of figuring it out.

Happiness is a choice, it’s a mentality.

Not to downplay my own struggles or past regrets/mistakes - but I have a lot to be proud of. I’m not perfect by any means but that is okay too. Because I continue to try, be open minded, stay unassuming, learn and challenge myself. I don’t give up on myself.

Even if I think I am, I’m not. Because I’m still here and I’m still taking on the next day.

Does this mean I’m a good person? Or does this mean I am just human, with all the complexities.

A big thing I noticed is that black or white thinking. I’ve had a hard time forgiving myself for anything really….because it didn’t jive with me “being a good person” or “being worthy”. I couldn’t be one without the other.

But then I’d forgive others in a heartbeat. Second chances? More like 3, 4, to infinity. Because I believe in the power of people changing. I’ve been trying to view myself as how I’d view someone else. I’m much kinder to others than I am to me.

Like I have it all ass backwards haha.

Now I realize that I have to cheer myself on. No one else will do it for me. And if I don’t, I’ll never get anywhere because I’ll always be too scared.

So if anyone is reading this, do what you need to let it all go. The expectations of what “should be”or how you “should be”. Scream in the car, delete that person from your friend list, go on a road trip by yourself, write affirmations on sticky notes and post them everywhere, cry your heart out, listen to your favorite song on repeat, throw yourself into your favorite hobby or start a new one, write all your worries on a piece of paper and burn it, break some shit then break some more shit, journal all your feelings on a random tumblr blog (haha), do something that scares you, make conversation with a stranger….I don’t know - just do something! Anything.

If it doesn’t work, do it again. And again. And again. Until it does.

Don’t worry if you look stupid or silly or uncool doing it. Do it for you. Forgive yourself for it all. You were and still are doing the best you could.

And don’t laugh at me when I say that because I used to make fun of all the people on social media who would say “X and X” solved all my problems and now I’m just this happy little leprechaun finding rainbows and gold everywhere. It’s not that simple but it also is.

Way easier said than done am I right *rolls eyes*

Know that you don’t have to have all the answers and you sure as hell don’t need to be perfect.

You are the one who writes your story so you get to decide who the main character is. Who you are. Who do you want to be?

As I’ve been healing, slowly but surely, people have fallen off. It really sucks to lose people. But the right ones have stayed & our relationships are so much sweeter and truer.

As I’ve accepted what I can do and what I can’t do, it’s been so freeing to feel like I’m not disappointing the world.

One day it will work. And then life will feel like magic.

Because lately, the thought that crosses my mind is: this is what it was meant to feel like all along.

#self love #healing #recovery #mental health #sobriety #healing journey #spiritual growth #love letter: my true feelings #love letter to myself #i am worthy of love #love your life #love yourself #love your body #inner peace #higher self #authentic self #authenticity #attitude of gratitude

[hells-wasabii]

Just to be clear, did something cause you to be aware that minor(s) were requesting you to make nsfw/smut stories? I'm curious cuz I saw a post had a smut request denied entirely. Is this related to that, and if so, did you find it out so that they were a minor? Just curious, don't take this as anything aggressive as I am a regular fan of your works (just curious on what caused such post)

Oh you’re good, I don’t perceive this as aggressive. Unfortunately yeah, I was made aware that a minor had requested smut. I’m not gonna go too into it as to not cause any issues between involved parties, but yeah…

I already tend to go through bios of accounts who request stuff anyways, but I put a lot of trust in you guys when it comes to nsfw/smut requests. Like I said in my post I can’t completely control who reads my stuff, but I am able to control who can ask for what. Someone was kind enough to point out that someone in my inbox is a minor, though they did so as an anon.

And let me just say, as an account who survived the great tumblr purge and seen various other shit go down on the internet this was utterly terrifying to find out

The post you mentioned that I denied it, already had a couple of red flags that made me not want to really touch the smut part of the req, though it was mostly the vibes as dumb as it sounds. Admittedly I felt bad since I usually don’t turn requests down unless I don’t know what the request is about but the fact someone reached out only cemented my decision. And I’ll make one thing clear. If I had gone through with making that smut, it would have been deleted in a heart beat, doesn’t matter. I’m not having that be connected to a minor.

I already tend to go through my follower list to make sure no one super young is loitering around but it’s also not exactly hard to lie about age on the internet, hence why I put trust in you guys about it. I’m a pretty passive person, but stuff like this is where I draw the line. I keep my smut tagged as such and include warnings so there’s also no way a ‘I didn’t know’ excuse works either

The way I see it, I want to continue producing works for you guys safely as much it’s I want it to be consumed safely. I care a lot about my readers and I don’t want anything bad happening to anybody.

I’m currently deciding whether or not I want to put regulations on how smut works are requested, and if I do, what kind to put in place, but I also know how embarrassing it can be to ask for it so for now anonymous asking stays on.

This got a little more long winded than I had expected but anywho, stay safe out there everybody

#wasabi talks #some pretty serious stuff going down #important

[taizi]

If you’re still taking prompts could I suggest maybe some Mikey and Splinter goodness? Preferably 2k12 (because we are all in need of more of them, right?) but whatever floats your goat :) I’ll read anything from you lol :3

unfortunately i still have rise brainrot so have this humble beginning of a human!splinter au instead <3

x

For all that his imprisonment felt like it aged him by decades, Yoshi really wasn’t gone for more than three years. He finds out when he drags himself into the blinding lights of the Manhattan rush hour and staggers drunkenly to a bodega to snatch up a newspaper. 

Three years. After all the things he’s seen and done, that is what he can’t believe. The date is far more impossible than Hidden Cities and yokai masquerading as beautiful roadies. Three years.

His talent manager, a short, round woman who never liked Big Mama for reasons Yoshi had previously shortsightedly misconstrued as jealousy and now considers a god-given gift of clairvoyance or at the very least insane intuition, is near-apoplectic with rage but somehow not angry enough to have deleted his number. Hers is the first call he gets when paparazzi pictures leak of “Lou Jitsu Spotted in Midtown! Thrilled Fans Speculate Secret New Project in Works!”—which is a fair assumption, given that he’s still dressed for the Battle Nexus and looks like he just rolled out of a warzone. 

“What secret project is it, exactly?” Hala demands in that very level tone that only ever precedes her losing her absolute shit in a big way. “Something your agency should know about, maybe? Something you should have explained before you dropped off the face of the planet for MULTIPLE YEARS?”

“Probably,” he says weakly. 

He’s more than a little bewildered. For so long, his only interactions with any living creatures were the pit fights he was thrown into. He doesn’t know how to handle the sense of normalcy in a phone call from a friend. It’s hostile, sure, but not in an immediately life-threatening way, and Yoshi has to stare really hard at the Caller ID so his face doesn’t crumple with overwhelmed tears when Hala says his name. 

It’s not entirely surprising that his townhouse is still here, exactly the way he left it before that ill-fated dinner date, given that all fees and payments are set up to come out of his accounts automatically—but it’s still a lot to process. That he could just walk out of one world and into another one. Step through a vaguely familiar door into a former life. 

For years he didn’t have anything but an empty cell. It shouldn’t be possible that he could be surrounded by wealth now. He doesn’t know what to do with the luxury furnishings. He’s almost certainly staining his sofa beyond repair just from sitting on it. 

He got home six hours ago. He’s been in a stupor since then, with a precious bundle of stolen cloak and baby turtles sleeping soundly in the crook of his arm. 

“—even listening to me? Lou, I swear to—”

“No, I am,” Yoshi lies. “Uh, look, can I call you back?”

“Oh, do you have something more important than your entire career to deal with?” Hala asks icily. 

The littlest of the four babies opens its eyes. They’re a perfect mirror of Yoshi’s own, warm brown and human. It’s hard to guess how old they are, but they’re definitely old enough to smile, and the little one proves it. 

It makes a quiet noise, something between a babble and a coo, and lifts one pudgy hand up toward Yoshi’s face. 

The call is on speaker and the noise must carry. Hala cuts herself off mid-word, surprised; then she exhales slowly, as if in understanding. Whatever it is she understands Yoshi must have missed entirely, because his whole brain is preoccupied by giving this tiny reaching creature whatever it wants. Lifting his arm and dipping his head, until the spotted turtle can paw around at his cheek and nose with its miraculous little fingers, clumsy and curious and delighted. 

Like it has some kind of good opinion of Yoshi already. Like somehow it’s happy to see him. 

It’s only been about three years since Yoshi was spirited away. That means Yoshi is not quite thirty years old. He feels ancient, and at the same time absurdly young. 

He never, ever imagined himself with children. It’s something he and Big Mama talked about as their relationship progressed. He couldn’t imagine bringing a child into the world, potentially saddling them with the Hamato mantle and all the pain and loss that came with it. He couldn’t imagine leaving them the way his mother disappeared from his life. If you’d asked him even a day ago whether or not he thought he could open his heart up like that again Yoshi is pretty sure his answer would have been a resounding no. 

But now there are these four fragile creatures, no longer animal, not fully human, who don’t have anywhere else to belong in the whole world. Four babies, so small that Yoshi’s heart leaps with panic at the idea of letting them go, with green-toned skin and three-fingered hands and eyes the same shape and color of his own. 

Their tiny faces ease Yoshi out of his shock—bring him sinking back into his body, and all its pain and hunger and exhaustion, all its proof of life. 

Yoshi forgets about the ongoing call in his opposite hand until the spotted turtle starts to squirm and almost dislodges its siblings and Yoshi moves to support them and finds a phone in the way. 

Hala is silent on the other end of the line. He remembers, belatedly, that he never answered her question. 

So he says, “Yes, I do.” 

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #hamato yoshi #lou jitsu #hamato michelangelo #my writing #tmnt fic #ratdad #human splinter au #i do feel bad that u wanted 2k12 ratdad though if u have a more specific prompt pls send it !!

[x3kristax3]

Eternal love - Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry for such the long delay on this chapter. Between taking a break mentally on everything and getting sick I had ideas but could not right. This chapter is not exactly what i wanted for but things don't always go as planned.

Everything with Phil has been going great, it's been a fun couple of weeks going on dates and waking up next to him. I would never admit this to anyone but he is something nice to look at.  However this morning, I find myself wanting more. Phil has admitted he doesn’t want to settle down and I can’t blame him. He has a reputation to keep up in this town and as a bar owner. 

I’m home today alone and I pull out my phone. For some reason I never deleted a picture of Jake and I, you can’t see his face but I know it's him. My heart starts to break all over again. I put my phone down and go and make myself another cup of coffee trying to get my mind to focus on work.

Jakes POV: Last time I reached out to her she told me she never wanted to see or hear from me again. I can’t blame her but I have to know she’s safe. I look at my laptop and see she’s home. It's where she has been lately. I’m 200 miles away in colville to keep distance between us because if I see her face I’m going to lose it and run to her.

I take a sip of coffee as I watch my screen between tracking her and my pursuers. I’ve had little sleep but I need to make sure they stay away from her. I realized they were only close to her last time because I was so I stayed away. Everything in my heart is telling me to run to her and kiss her one more time but her safety will always be my importance. I just don’t see what she see’s in Phil still. She told me I didn’t have to worry about him and yet they are together, at least for now. 

I know guys like him, he will mess up and she will walk away. I had learned things about her and she isn’t one to give second chances. I hope I can be the expectation that once I get everything cleared up because god how I miss that smile as she looks at me with those eyes. The touch of her hands on my face that is used to being covered by this mask. She saw me and while I should be worried that someone is going to come after her I can’t let her into this life with me. That's why I ran all those weeks ago from her. I knew she would hate me for it but it was the only way I could keep her safe.

MC POV:

It’s been a couple hours and I finally got work done today, thankfully my boss hasn’t noticed me slacking lately. I keep telling myself I won’t go down the rabbit hole of finding a way to help Jake but I find myself on the dark web. He had shown me some of it when we were together so I found myself in a forum. I never post or talk to anyone but I hope to know he is okay.

I finally about to close when I see a notification pop up: “if anyone knows where Nym is or that girl he is with there is reward for him alive”

Shit, shit, shit. He’s already with someone else and they are looking for him and her. I grab my phone and I still have his number saved. I go to type something when I see he comes online and I stop. 

“No MC you are not to get caught up in his issues” I say aloud to myself. As I delete his number this time and delete the account I created in that chat form.

I take a deep breath and I call Phil up. He answers and I hear him already in the bar. “Hey love” he says.

“Hey, I was hoping to catch you before the bar opened but I guess I'm a bit late tonight.” I say sadly.

“You can always come stop by, once one of my employees comes in we can head upstairs.” I hear that sly smile of his.

“No, I should rest. Today was a rough day at work and I haven’t eaten except for drinking coffee and a protein bar,” I say with a sigh.

“I’ll make it up to you” he says as I hear him helping a customer.

‘Its okay really. I’ll come stop by in the morning tomorrow as I don’t have work.”

‘Okay see you then love, goodbye” he says as he hangs up.

“Goodbye” I say into the phone to noone.

I go and order myself some takeout and decide to do a little bit of cleaning as I throw on my favorite playlist at the moment. I hear my phone go off but I decide to ignore it. I need to stop jumping at my phone everytime it goes off. It's a bad habit I got into with Jake as I always wanted to talk to him. I hear the doorbell ring and the food is there. As I’m about to close the door a hand stops me and I see it’s Dan and Jessy.

“I tried calling you, boo,” says Dan.

“Sorry I was doing some cleaning,’ I say with a sigh as I let them in and put the food down. “What's going on?” I am concerned they are both here.

He pulls out his phone and there's a text message from an unknown sender. 

???: Tell us where nymos girl is and no one gets hurt

“I didn’t answer because I know you're not his anymore but obviously someone else didn’t get the message and you're in danger. Have you heard from hackerboy?” Dan asks.

I look at him and Jessy concerned, “no not for a couple weeks. I deleted his contact from my phone because he’s part of my past now” I say as I turn around to grab my food.

“Well someone things you're still his, MC” says Jessy.

“Well I’m NOT! I don’t care what he’s up to anymore, for all we know he could be someone new.” I yell.

Dan looks at Jessy, “what's going on? Don’t tell us anything because we know you MC.” Dan states.

“I still miss him okay! I thought he was my eternal love and he walked away from me. I thought we could work through whatever issues we had but he decided to run away instead of fighting for us. So I'm trying to do the same.” I cry out.

“Is that what this is with Phil?” asks Jessy.

“Phil is just something fun for now. There is no end game with him and I plan on breaking it off tomorrow.” I say with a sigh.

Dan comes up and wraps his arms around me. “MC, you still love him don’t you?” he asks

The tears fall and I lean into Dan’s chest. “How am I supposed to stop loving the man that my soul is made for?” I ask looking up at him.

“It won’t be easy but you will make it through I promise you.” he says.

We enjoy a night watching movies and eatting dinner while also playing some games.

I wake up the next morning and remember I have to go over to Phil’s Jessy and Dan are still there so I make up coffee and leave them a note. I head over there and knock on the door.

“Morning” he says as he answers the door in just sweatpants with that sly smile.

“Phil, can we talk?” I ask

“You're not happy are you?” he asks

“No, it was fun. I won’t deny that but my heart isn’t in it. I need more time to get over him. I’m sorry” I say looking down.

“It’s okay,we both knew this was just something fun. No hard feelings.”

“Thanks Phil, I’ll see you around.” I say with a soft smile.

#duskwood #duskwood fanfiction #duskwoodlover #mc x jake #writing #fanfic #duskwood jake x mc #everbyte duskwood #duskwood fandom #jake duskwood #duskwood phil x mc #duskwood everbyte #duskwood mc #duskwood dan #duskwood jessy

[awordwasthebeginning]

Moonacre Week 2023

Day 07: Matches

2023

It's nothing short of a miracle that Maria notices the power cut in the first place, considering she has been trying to meditate in the half-dark of the summer night. Maybe it is the particular mindfulness which allows her to sense that something has changed – the small fridge has stopped humming, instead there is the muffled sound of chaos in the distance. When she goes to pick up her phone, the charging light has stopped blinking at 87%.

She quickly checks her notifications. It’s all over BBC News, of course. The facilities team have sent an e-mail asking to remain calm, the emergency power supply shall be provided soon, etc. A short You alright in L? from Ben, which she marks with a thumbs-up emoji. Three more messages from – oh, this guy again. Has she not been clear about her disinterest in someone who makes hating cats their entire personality? She rolls her eyes, blocks him, and deletes Tinder from her phone entirely, saving her phone a bit of battery and herself some nerves.

A knock distracts her from her annoyance. She makes her way over to the door in the flickering candlelight and opens it by a few inches.

“Hi.” The person in the hallway fumbles with their phone for a moment before they turn on the flashlight. “Sorry, that probably still looks creepy. Uh, I’m Robin, I moved into 405 last week –”

He points at the door diagonally opposite Maria’s. “I’m sorry for knocking at this time of night, but I wanted to ask if you have a spare charger or something? My phone battery is really low, and I can’t see shit in my flat – or a lighter, maybe? I know we’re not supposed to have open fire in the rooms, but…”

Maria suppresses a grin and opens the door a bit wider. Robin stops waffling and looks over her shoulder. She can see the lights turning on in his head, so to speak.

“You have candles!”

“Don’t tell the RA.”

“I won’t if you’re willing to share.” His wink looks a bit creepy in the phone’s flashlight, too, but his tone is playful, and she hasn’t got any other plans for tonight, so she might as well play along.

“Blackmail? Very classy.”

He tilts his head. “Please?”

Maria wasn’t about to let him die in the dark, anyways. “Wait here, I’ll get you some.”

She doesn’t close her door but he makes no attempt to come inside. Very polite. She arranges a handful of tea lights on a plate, lights some of them, and places the matchbox on the rim.

“Here.” She holds out the plate to him. “I don’t have a lighter, but I have matches. Although I haven’t had much luck with those recently.”

She wants to swallow the last sentence back into her stomach the second she says it. What on earth? That is really none of Robin’s business, and also probably some of the worst self-deprecating flirting she has ever witnessed, coming from herself or any other person.

He laughs, takes the plate from her, and switches off his phone. “Tell me about it. It’s just difficult to find decent…tinder these days.”

He waggles – actually waggles his eyebrows, in the most ridiculously exaggerated way possible, and Maria can’t help but laugh, too.

“I’m Maria, by the way,” she introduces herself, a bit late. “Good luck with these, then.”

“Thanks.” Robin’s grin turns softer, more genuine. The flickering candlelight does his cheekbones and the curly hair a wonderful favour. “I owe you one.”

“Don’t mention it.” She does an awkward little half-wave, and he raises the plate in an answering gesture, and then Robin turns and goes back to his room.

Closing her door against the now dark hallway, Maria allows herself one more amused grin before she shakes her head and calls it a day.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

On Friday afternoon, there is another knock at her door. Somehow, she immediately knows who it is – the power is back, after all, the doorbells are working just fine, why would anyone knock?

Robin’s face is more handsome in the gold and orange evening light streaming in through the window at the far end of the hallway. His eyes flicker down to her chest, and Maria almost scolds him before she remembers that she is wearing her locket. It’s old, but it’s pretty, and very noticeable, and to his credit, Robin immediately looks back into her eyes.

“Heya,” he says.

“Hi.”

They smile at each other for a moment, unsure of how this might go, before Robin moves and says, “I wanted to say thanks, for the other night, and –”

He turns his head. Someone is coming up the stairs, a group of people, one voice more prominent than the others – Jen, notorious and unchallenged gossip queen of the halls. Maria makes her decision in a heartbeat.

“Come in.”

Robin follows her into her room and closes the door behind them. She can tell he does his very best not to look around with curiosity.

“Do you want a cuppa? Or” – she reminds herself of the temperature and his heavy-looking leather jacket (really, a black leather jacket in the middle of July? Not that she’s complaining, but is the style really worth the heatstroke?) – “a glass of water or something?”

“No, thanks.” He reaches out his hand, handing the plate back to her. It isn’t empty, though. Maria stares at the little matchbox, decorated with a ribbon and a daisy tucked into the bow.

“Thanks for the matches. I…got you new ones.”

“Oh.” As she feels a blush hotly creeping into her cheeks, Maria carefully takes the plate from his hand. “You shouldn’t have. Thank you.”

She turns and rummages around in the cupboard way longer than necessary. The daisy, she places in a little shot glass filled with water.

“No, I should’ve.”

There is an odd undercurrent in Robin’s voice, something very close to nervousness. Maria turns back and looks at him where he is standing – still close to the door, not all up in her space. But he is smiling again.

“Your matches worked just fine, by the way.”

Maria resists the urge to bury her face in her hands as she remembers that awful joke. “Did they?”

He shrugs, his smile widening a little. His gaze wanders across the floor, the window, back to her face. “Might be a sign, don’t you think?”

Maria’s traitorous heart flutters in her chest the way it hasn’t for months, years, maybe centuries. “Are you flirting with me?”

He tilts his head a little. “Is it working?”

It is, but she isn’t about to tell him that. She can imagine his cocky smirk just fine, and she isn’t sure she should like so much what the idea alone is doing to her. Besides, she has done a bit of research and had a look at the nameplate next to his door.

“You’re a de Noir.”

“Yeah, yeah, and you a Merryweather.” Evidently, he has done his research, too. Evidently, he doesn’t seem to care much. “Ever considered all those family legends about old animosities might be horseshit?”

They’re not legends, Maria thinks, they’re facts, their families used to bash each other’s heads in for who knows how long. But, and this is where she admittedly agrees with the man standing opposite her, she has never understood why that should matter today, why it should keep her from certain parts of the forest, why her uncle had to break up with, oh, fuck, Robin’s sister…

She swallows down that little shock. Unfortunately, what comes out of her mouth instead is an even worse joke:

“You think we might be a…match?”

Robin outright snorts with laughter and gives her a grin more radiant than the sun itself. “I think our ancestors missed a few opportunities there.”

“I’m glad they did.” Maria bites her lip before she allows herself to grin back with just as much affection, gesturing between them. “Would be a right shame if we were cousins or something.”

“Agreed.” Robin winks, and in the warm daylight, it’s anything but creepy. It lets Maria’s heart beat faster, nevertheless; even more so as he comes just a short step closer.

“But since we’re not, d’you want to go for a coffee?”

“Right now?”

“Whenever you want.”

Maria gives herself a little shove. Their ancestors were idiots for missing those opportunities. She’s going to seize hers.

“Now sounds perfect, actually.”

#moonacreweek2023 #fic: did you miss me? #it has been an honour and a ride #awordwasthebeginning writes #loquor

[babeczka415]

Eternal Love - Chapter 4

Everything with Phil has been going great, it's been a fun couple of weeks going on dates and waking up next to him. I would never admit this to anyone but he is something nice to look at.  However this morning, I find myself wanting more. Phil has admitted he doesn’t want to settle down and I can’t blame him. He has a reputation to keep up in this town and as a bar owner. 

I’m home today alone and I pull out my phone. For some reason I never deleted a picture of Jake and I, you can’t see his face but I know it's him. My heart starts to break all over again. I put my phone down and go and make myself another cup of coffee trying to get my mind to focus on work.

Jakes POV: Last time I reached out to her she told me she never wanted to see or hear from me again. I can’t blame her but I have to know she’s safe. I look at my laptop and see she’s home. It's where she has been lately. I’m 200 miles away in colville to keep distance between us because if I see her face I’m going to lose it and run to her.

I take a sip of coffee as I watch my screen between tracking her and my pursuers. I’ve had little sleep but I need to make sure they stay away from her. I realized they were only close to her last time because I was so I stayed away. Everything in my heart is telling me to run to her and kiss her one more time but her safety will always be my importance. I just don’t see what she see’s in Phil still. She told me I didn’t have to worry about him and yet they are together, at least for now. 

I know guys like him, he will mess up and she will walk away. I had learned things about her and she isn’t one to give second chances. I hope I can be the expectation that once I get everything cleared up because god how I miss that smile as she looks at me with those eyes. The touch of her hands on my face that is used to being covered by this mask. She saw me and while I should be worried that someone is going to come after her I can’t let her into this life with me. That's why I ran all those weeks ago from her. I knew she would hate me for it but it was the only way I could keep her safe.

MC POV:

It’s been a couple hours and I finally got work done today, thankfully my boss hasn’t noticed me slacking lately. I keep telling myself I won’t go down the rabbit hole of finding a way to help Jake but I find myself on the dark web. He had shown me some of it when we were together so I found myself in a forum. I never post or talk to anyone but I hope to know he is okay.

I finally about to close when I see a notification pop up: “if anyone knows where Nym is or that girl he is with there is reward for him alive”

Shit, shit, shit. He’s already with someone else and they are looking for him and her. I grab my phone and I still have his number saved. I go to type something when I see he comes online and I stop. 

“No MC you are not to get caught up in his issues” I say aloud to myself. As I delete his number this time and delete the account I created in that chat form.

I take a deep breath and I call Phil up. He answers and I hear him already in the bar. “Hey love” he says.

“Hey, I was hoping to catch you before the bar opened but I guess I'm a bit late tonight.” I say sadly.

“You can always come stop by, once one of my employees comes in we can head upstairs.” I hear that sly smile of his.

“No, I should rest. Today was a rough day at work and I haven’t eaten except for drinking coffee and a protein bar,” I say with a sigh.

“I’ll make it up to you” he says as I hear him helping a customer.

‘Its okay really. I’ll come stop by in the morning tomorrow as I don’t have work.”

‘Okay see you then love, goodbye” he says as he hangs up.

“Goodbye” I say into the phone to noone.

I go and order myself some takeout and decide to do a little bit of cleaning as I throw on my favorite playlist at the moment. I hear my phone go off but I decide to ignore it. I need to stop jumping at my phone everytime it goes off. It's a bad habit I got into with Jake as I always wanted to talk to him. I hear the doorbell ring and the food is there. As I’m about to close the door a hand stops me and I see it’s Dan and Jessy.

“I tried calling you, boo,” says Dan.

“Sorry I was doing some cleaning,’ I say with a sigh as I let them in and put the food down. “What's going on?” I am concerned they are both here.

He pulls out his phone and there's a text message from an unknown sender. 

???: Tell us where nymos girl is and no one gets hurt

“I didn’t answer because I know you're not his anymore but obviously someone else didn’t get the message and you're in danger. Have you heard from hackerboy?” Dan asks.

I look at him and Jessy concerned, “no not for a couple weeks. I deleted his contact from my phone because he’s part of my past now” I say as I turn around to grab my food.

“Well someone things you're still his, MC” says Jessy.

“Well I’m NOT! I don’t care what he’s up to anymore, for all we know he could be someone new.” I yell.

Dan looks at Jessy, “what's going on? Don’t tell us anything because we know you MC.” Dan states.

“I still miss him okay! I thought he was my eternal love and he walked away from me. I thought we could work through whatever issues we had but he decided to run away instead of fighting for us. So I'm trying to do the same.” I cry out.

“Is that what this is with Phil?” asks Jessy.

“Phil is just something fun for now. There is no end game with him and I plan on breaking it off tomorrow.” I say with a sigh.

Dan comes up and wraps his arms around me. “MC, you still love him don’t you?” he asks

The tears fall and I lean into Dan’s chest. “How am I supposed to stop loving the man that my soul is made for?” I ask looking up at him.

“It won’t be easy but you will make it through I promise you.” he says.

We enjoy a night watching movies and eatting dinner while also playing some games.

I wake up the next morning and remember I have to go over to Phil’s Jessy and Dan are still there so I make up coffee and leave them a note. I head over there and knock on the door.

“Morning” he says as he answers the door in just sweatpants with that sly smile.

“Phil, can we talk?” I ask

“You're not happy are you?” he asks

“No, it was fun. I won’t deny that but my heart isn’t in it. I need more time to get over him. I’m sorry” I say looking down.

“It’s okay,we both knew this was just something fun. No hard feelings.”

#duskwood #duskwood fanfiction #duskwoodlover #mc x jake #writing #fanfic #duskwood jake x mc #everbyte duskwood #duskwood fandom #jake duskwood #duskwood phil x mc #duskwood everbyte #duskwood mc #duskwood dan #duskwood jessy

[strawbrygashez]

even though 1999 wasn’t all that long ago at all somestuff has changed, so, do you have any sort of modern fight club head-canons? (I’m terrible at asks, my apologies)

Hmmm. U mean like if fight club was set in current day? What they’d be like now? :0 I’ll answer both if like it was made today and if they’ve just been together during the 1999s and what they’d be like now!!! If u meant this another way I can make another post :D

If it was set in current day:

• Tylers stupid ass would be a influencer. I’m sorry but he just so would be. He knows what to say & how to get people to love him and look up to him so it fits. He wouldn’t be like those weird af sigma podcasters, he’s yknow openly bi or whatever and talks about what he thinks is wrong with the world (he has the same opinions he has in the movie). When he’s not making videos or posting his opinions, he’s making videos about his thrift hauls because people are always asking him about his outfits.

Now if we wanted to get goofy with this idea, I think it would be kinda funny if he started a ‘online cult’ that gets out of hand.

•The narrator would probably still be working the same job he had in the movie. I don’t think much changes about him other than he feels a little better about accepting his sexuality. In his free time he does watch boring YouTube videos though and when he’s trying to go to sleep he’ll watch those like 5 hour videos going over something or another. They rarely do ever make him actually fall asleep.

•When him & the narrator get together & it’s been a while, Tyler has to show him off to the people who follow him online. He’s so excited to but the narrator is a little nervous. he isn’t used to attention and was surprised Tyler has a huge following. Tyler loves taking pictures for his social medias so tons of the pictures he posts are of them both. Maybe he’d introduce the narrator thru a video tho. Man probably has the narrator on his lap the whole time too smh.

•I’m not sure how well the idea of the underground fight club would work in current day. Eh probably the same. I think in modern day tho most of Tyler’s focus would be on getting his followers to start shit with other people. (He doesn’t care much about keeping his plans to spread stuff like that around a secret this time)

•He’s gotten almost cancelled before after saying something about ‘do we need another woman’ or something along those lines. He apologized because he just worded it wrong. (Why am I picturing the diary of a wimpy kid ‘I’m sorry women’ thing 💀💀)

•The narrator would do a lot of Tyler’s online ‘dirty work’ for him. Tyler is the face & speaker but the narrator handles other things. He deletes mean comments too bc he doesn’t want Tyler to have to see them even tho Tyler doesn’t give a shit about them 🙄🙄 so protective.

•The narrator gets such a kick out of seeing comments being jealous that they can’t be with Tyler. It’s strokes his ego.

OKAY NOW IF THE STUFF HAPPENED IN 1999 BUT ITS A TIME SKIP TO PRESENT DAY

•The narrator doesn’t get internet slang at all while Tyler can catch on pretty quickly.

•The narrator is terrible with smart phones. He texts like a old man and takes unflattering selfies from weird angles. Tyler is a bit better than him at using smart phones so he’s helping him or he just yanks his phone and plays around with it.

•Tyler hates how nothing has really changed that much besides the fact he sees more people think the way he does on a lot of stuff. He gets mad af when it comes to how capitalism is still going very strongly.

•(If Tyler wasn’t a real person) the narrator would have a better grasp on understanding his mental health issues since it’s probably easier to find and hear information about whatever he has. He feels more at ease about just going to therapy and whatnot.

•Tyler is going to be one of those people who complains that people aren’t ‘living in the moment’ that much anymore. He’ll glare if he’s trying to have a conversation with someone or is at a dining table with someone and they are on their phone. He’ll grab it from them depending on who they are.

•Tyler would hypothetically like to share his thoughts online but he doesn’t wanna ‘waste too much of his time’ on the internet. He’d much rather find something to get up to with the narrator.

•Tyler gets more complements on his fashion style nowadays compared to back then bc people are less worried about how someone dresses (for the most part) now.

•Someone can easily trick the narrator into saying weird shit to Tyler. Like if they tell them to tell Tyler he’s ‘caked up’ and explains it means something other than it actually means, he will go say it. Tyler goes red or just laughs.

•I think Tyler would like mostly taking pictures with phones. In his mind it’s probably the only thing they are good for (besides listening to music). He takes tons of the narrator and outside.

#asks #IF NONE OF THIS IS WHAT U MEANT IM SORRY I CAN MAKE ANOTHER POST

[knightkneeler]

I made this a thirty-tweet thread which is just an awful thing to do to people so I’m reposting it here for posterity when I inevitably delete it from Twitter: the extremely self-indulgent Annette/Lysithea/Mercedes modern AU love triangle fic I will never have time to write.

Annette and Lysithea are in a semi-established relationship. They’ve gone on a couple dates and things are going really well. After a few weeks Annette decides: Yes, this is serious. Which means it’s time to introduce Lysithea to her friends (maybe she already knows Felix), starting, of course, with her best friend, Mercedes, whom Lysithea has heard a lot about already. 

Annette expects that this will go great. They have a lot in common. Well, okay, they have baking in common. But still! She arranges for the three of them to have dinner at Annette’s apartment. Mercedes thoughtfully brings a homemade dessert.

But Lysithea feels--vaguely uncomfortable, the whole time. Mercedes is very pretty, and kind, and intelligent, and she baked this incredible carrot cake. She tells Mercedes as much, and Mercedes thanks her with this wide smile that makes Lysithea realize oh shit she’s attracted to her girlfriend’s best friend. Bad! Bad. 

The rest of the evening is sort of awkward. Lysithea tries to avoid engaging with Mercedes too much. She speaks to her without making eye contact and mostly lets Annette do the talking. Annette is not thrilled about this. The point was for Mercedes and Lysithea to get to know each other. She’s left bummed out and confused after Mercedes goes home; she had such high hopes that they’d hit it off.

Mercedes, though, picked up on Lysithea’s interest. She recognized the blush in her cheeks. It was kind of cute. It’s fine, though, Lysithea will get over it, it was just new-person jitters. But the next time all three hang out, Lysithea is cold and distant, to Annette’s dismay. And to Mercedes’ dismay, she finds herself tempted to tease Lysithea, because she is cute, especially when flustered.

But those few teasing gestures and glances quickly turn into actual tension, leaving Mercie feeling hollow and horrible about the fact that she’s into her best friend’s girlfriend. She starts avoiding Lysithea whenever possible. 

Lysithea does the same. When they’re forced to be in the same group hangout setting, Lysithea is very tense and kind of bitchy, even more than usual. What started as an oh-no-she’s-hot feeling has turned into a full-blown crush. She feels sick with butterflies whenever Mercedes talks to her. She struggles to stop herself from looking at her across the room at dinner parties with the Blue Lions. She’s furious with herself about it. She’s in love with Annette, and this crush is becoming a real problem.

Mercedes starts avoiding Annette, too. She’s often with Lysithea, but even when it’s just Annette and Mercedes, Mercie feels wretched and guilty. She’s threatening to ruin her best friend’s relationship, and their friendship in the process, and she cannot live with herself over this.

For Annette’s part, she’s frustrated, hurt, and confused. She thinks the lingering looks Lysithea shoots at Mercedes are--jealousy, maybe, of how close Annette and Mercie are, or just general dislike. Either way, she’s upset that they can’t get along, and it’s obvious that Mercedes is avoiding them because she knows Lysithea doesn’t like her.

Eventually it boils over. Annette confronts them both in her apartment. Why can’t the two most important people in her life even stand to be in the same room? She’s trying so hard to make this work, she really is, and she doesn’t understand what’s wrong! Mercedes chews her lip.

Lysithea is the one to confess. “Fine,” she spits, “I have a crush on your best friend. Are you happy now?”

Annette is gobsmacked.

“It doesn’t diminish what I feel for you,” Lysithea continues, “but it’s vexing. I didn’t want to complicate our relationship or your friendship. I wanted it to just go away, but it hasn’t. I’m sorry. I’ll see myself out.”

Annette tries to stop her--They can talk about this! They can work it out! They don’t need to just give up on what they have!--but Lysithea grabs her coat and leaves without another word. Mercedes and Annette are alone in the apartment.

Mercedes says, quietly, that she knew from the start. “I’m sorry, Annie. I didn’t want to get between you, so I--just avoided you.”

Annette turns to her. “Mercie,” she says, “it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. This is Lysithea’s mess. You wouldn’t have been getting between us, okay? It’s not like you--” 

Mercedes nods, with her eyes closed. 

“Oh,” says Annette.

Mercedes confesses: she felt--feels?--something for Lysithea, and it’s been eating her alive. Annette and Lysithea had something really special, it made Mercedes so happy to see them together, and Mercedes could never live with herself if she ruined that, and if she ruined her closest friendship. She hoped it would go away, just like Lysithea, and it didn’t. It’s her fault.

Annette buries her face in her hands. Mercedes asks if she wants to be alone. She shakes her head. She wraps her arms around Mercie’s waist and sobs into her lap. Mercie stays the night; they sleep cuddled together on the couch.

The next morning, Annette decides that she blames nobody. It’ll be hard, but they can fix this. They will fix it. She needs them to. 

She calls Lysithea. Voicemail. She texts her. No response. She texts again. Nothing.

Annette spends the day watching shitty movies to distract herself from feeling truly atrocious. Mercedes keeps her company. They get takeout and ice cream. Mercedes sleeps on the couch again, Annette cries herself to sleep in the bedroom she’d grown accustomed to sharing with Lysithea.

Annette has a lot of time to think while she waits for Lysithea to reply. Specifically she realizes that the way she feels about Mercedes is not--platonic. She has feelings for her, romantic ones. And she has for a long time.

Mercedes (being the most emotionally-intelligent of the three) has known for ages that she’s attracted to Annie, but has never wanted to risk destroying their friendship which is so, so important to her, so she kept it to herself. She thinks part of the reason she was into Lysithea to begin with was because she saw a lot of Annette in her.

Everyone feels like shit.

The next day, Lysithea calls. She’s had some time to think. She’s still in love with Annette, her feelings for Mercedes were--confusing, but ultimately just a crush, some sexual interest, but nothing more serious. Annette proposes that they all take a few days to themselves, to collect their thoughts, and then the three of them will meet at Annette’s apartment to hash things out. It will probably be a long and difficult conversation and cost a lot of tissues their lives. Mercedes and Lysithea agree.

Finally, The Talk.

Annette spills first: she has had feelings for Mercedes for a very long time, that she tamped down inside because she was afraid of them, but she really was--and still is--in love with Lysithea. Mercedes admits too that at some point the way she felt about Annette turned from friendship to something more, and she does like Lysithea, both as a person and in a sexual way. Lysithea is, unfairly, stung by the revelation that her (ex?) girlfriend had a crush on her own best friend the entire time they were together.

There is a very tense moment of silence. They all come to the same deeply-stupid conclusion.

Annette voices it. She crosses her arms. “You two need to kiss.”

Lysithea and Mercedes share a look, then they turn back to Annette, uncomfortable.

“I’m serious,” Annette says, with a ‘get on with it’ gesture. “Kiss, right now, in front of me.”

Lysithea collects her nerves. Mercedes is relaxed, and approaches her gently, and smiles at her, which makes Lysithea’s heart and stomach lurch. She cups Lysithea’s chin.

The kiss is deep and sloppy, with a lot of tongue. When they pull apart, Lysithea is flushed, glassy-eyed, and winded. A strand of saliva connects their mouths for a second. Mercedes is lightly pink, but put together.

Annette--really liked watching that, or at least her libido did, which is kind of distressing.

“Okay,” she says, “now kiss me, Mercie.”

Theirs is gentler and sweeter. It makes Lysithea’s eye twitch. Annette feels--something, she can’t even name it. Then it’s Lysithea and Annette’s turn, and for a second it’s almost like nothing happened. They still have a physical connection, even if the emotions are messy right now, they still have something.

“So,” says Annette, after another tense moment, “how did we feel about all of that?”

Mercedes says she enjoyed kissing them both, but it was obvious from seeing the two of them kiss that they’re still in love. They both turn to Lysithea, who scowls and crosses her arms.

“If you’re going to suggest that we all have sex, just say that,” she snaps.

“Okay,” says Annette, “lets all have sex. There.”

Lysithea sputters. She was trying to be snide, she wasn’t serious! “I am,” Annette says. “It’s the obvious solution. We do this, and we see how we feel afterward. Mercie?”

Mercedes says that she’s open to it, but only if Annette is absolutely sure, and if Lysithea is willing. “I’m sure,” Annette confirms.

So they both look at Lysithea. Her eyes dart between them. She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Ugh. Fine.”

They have an emotionally-fraught threesome, and we end in the aftermath, with them all in bed, thinking, but not speaking, leaving the exact nature of the relationship(s) muddy and unclear.

#kk writing tag #fe3h #lysinette #mercinette