#should I put this on ao3 or am I just clowning myself

[aerkame]

I will no longer write for other AUs for Welcome Home (please read in full)

TW: Mentions of NSFW/pedos

I know some people only followed me because of a fic or two I might have started writing on for another Welcome Home AU, but recently I have started to notice the increasing toxicity of the fandom overall. Yeah, I've been other fandoms I know there is toxicity and I know there's a lot of nice people in this fandom, but I have NEVER seen it this bad. Out of all the fandoms/fanbases that I have been in, I have never seen such a huge problem regarding pedos, NSFW art/writing being shared and looked at by minors despite the creator's wishes, general toxic behavior, and a large amount of mentally unwell people working their way into groups of children or safe spaces. I ended up having to delete quite a few NSFW art pieces on twitter because I found minors had seen it and some guy decided to make a comment on my OC Lilith that I was not comfortable with.

I also do not feel alright having to restrict myself on what I write or draw because a single person might be "triggered" or "offended" by it. I know I put warnings when they are needed, I should not have to feel like I'm walking on eggshells in this fandom. I do not need anonymous asks telling me how I should and shouldn't write or what I can and can't say.

Because of how bad it's been and seeing more and more creators leave the fandom, I have decided to no longer engage in other AUs or creators unless it's from a follower (I know you guys are fine), friend, or person I know I've talked with before, OR if it's Clown himself. A lot of people forget that Welcome Home isn't what people keep writing it as. Welcome Home isn't even close to being done, we're just riding off the AUs right now. It really rubs me the wrong way that all I ever see on AO3 now with fanfictions are smut fics mainly and some pretty disturbing stuff.

There is so much, too much, s3xualization in this fandom and the romanticizing of serious and dangerous themes/topics. A lot of times believe or not, when I draw buff characters with no shirts, it really is just anatomy practice. I do not understand some of the comments I get sometimes in my inbox. Yes it's fine to tease a bit, but my goodness some of the comments I have seen before are concerning. I never intend on s3xualizing the characters and yet I always get anon asks going a bit out there with s3xualized comments. It's why I haven't really drawn that stuff in a while. I can't tell if people really do s3xualize that stuff or if they're seeing it as anatomy practice with a bit of tease like I do.

I have been bottling A LOT of things up recently and it's hindered my ability to really write or draw how I want. I'm always scrapping ideas and giving up halfway through.

It's always "Is this something that people are going to s3xualize?" "Is this something that might offend someone in x category?' "Will people like this new character?" "Am I good enough for this topic?". It's not healthy and I know that it affects my creativity and mentality, I won't be restricting myself anymore though. I will write/draw what I want, just please heed my warnings when I put them there and don't ignore my boundaries or the boundaries of others.

Now, regarding my own two AUs (I dropped the Dream one because I have something special planned for TFP), The Finfolk AU and Alive AU. I WILL continue writing/drawing for them. They are my own AUs with my own characters added in them. A lot of people that interact with me are followers and I know you guys would never disrespect my OCs or invade boundaries and I love you so much for that. Of course my rule on requests remain the same. NO NSFW for the normal Welcome Home, but NSFW is allowed for Finfolk AU requests.

Unfortunately, all of this does mean I will not continue the fic I was writing for @clownsuu Mob AU. I'm sorry, I just really do not feel like writing for an AU outside of what I know in terms of the person who makes it. I am not sure how to explain it other than I don't feel alright with it unless it's like an AU from someone I know or at least talked to before? Just at least a person I know on some personal level. I don't want to explore the fandom right now, it is a mess with the people in it...do not take this the wrong way, I DO NOT hate anyone outside of the people I know, I just don't feel comfortable in the fandom at the moment and I will not leave you guys behind either. So in short, I plan to just stay in my own lane so to speak and do what I can for the ones who follow me for what I do.

I will however finish the Villain fanfiction as it's not exactly anyone's AU? Not sure how to explain that, it was a series of asks for it. And obviously I will make a full long fanfictions for the Alive and Finfolk AU.

I know I said I don't want to vent on here, but it's getting hard for me to ignore. Everytime I type or pick up a pencil to make something on here it doesn't feel right.

#welcome home #welcome home au #welcome home finfolk au #finfolk #welcome home arg #psa #tw

[dairogo]

For the fanfic ask game: 29, 46, 48, 53, 58...okay, I should probably stop for now ^^'

Oh nooooo, not lots of questions XD

29. What’s something about your writing that you’re proud of?

Across the board, I feel like I'm most proud of my references - or I take the most joy in them, anyway. Sometimes they're like secret punchlines for people who know what I'm referring to, sometimes they're like hyperlinks to a whole lot of extra knowledge, and sometimes they're just a whole lot of foreshadowing. I love weaving webs in my stories, whether it's comedy or tragedy!

46. If you could only write one type of AU for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Oof, that's a hard question. I have a lot of ideas for AUs that are forked timelines (like, what would happen to the story if this one event was different), but if I can only write one type, I'd want it to be super different to canon to allow for range. Probably a school/university AU, but I'd heavily consider coffee-shop for the pure fluff.

48. Who is your favorite character to write for?  Has this changed since you’ve started writing for that fandom?

My entire time in this fandom I have always been a big fan of Royai, but I think I've switched from writing mostly Roy-centric to writing vastly Riza-centric. I love them both for different reasons - she's my angst muffin, and he's my clown.

53. What is the most-used tag on your ao3?

Hands down, Riza Hawkeye. But if you ignore characters, probably pre-canon because I had a series of those.

58. Do you have a favorite piece of figurative language you’ve written?

I get the vague feeling I really liked some passages I've written like that, but even going back and looking for them, I can't find any! But I remember where I made myself feel something (like a character's desperation, or a particularly stupid joke).

And I'm going to be That Person and link two of them now, because of course if you ask me for my favourite bits I have to regale you with them.

There's this bit in A Bloodied Queen which I was thinking about years before I wrote it specifically because I planned a whole story arc in my Ishbal-fic around how to make this line more impactful, so I love it because I know I worked hard for it:

“Your job will be to watch my back,” he continued. “Do you understand? By entrusting my back to you, I am also granting you ample opportunity to shoot me from behind. Should I ever stray from the path, you are to put a bullet through my skull.”

Her fingers trembled with the memory of blood. For a moment she was both in that giant, open office in Eastern Headquarters, and in the upper room of a house in Ishval, with three dead men and one asking for her to grant a more immediate request. It was a mercy to kill a man so far gone that he couldn’t recover. That’s what she’d told herself.

Perhaps it was more necessary when what he could no longer recover was his true self. A man bleeding out would die soon, but in pain. A man who had lost his integrity could limp along with half a life for years, growing more and more despicable.

And my other favourite moment is going from Roy and Havoc having serious, heartfelt conversations, to him being a semi-flirtatious jerk as they join Riza, in A Bed Too Small, keeping it short to avoid potential spoiler?:

Spine straightening, Mustang’s stride quickened just a little bit as he approached the others. “Oh? Was your room assignment problematic?”

#writing about fanfiction #ask game #tw blood mention #tw death

[charthanry]

Prediction: There will be a fist bump in EP12 (long read)

We all know that the fist bump is PatPran’s thing- in flirtation speak it’s practically a hug for them. There’s been a fist bump in nearly half the series.

EP1a: They fist bump on the agreement that Pat will back off on beating up Wai if Pran gets Wai to publicly apologize.

EP1b: Their we're now even fist bump is interrupted by Professor Pichai.

EP3a: They fist bump after they race up the stairs and Pat coos if Pran wants a rematch he knows where to find him, but if he misses him- to just come in. Pran turns it into flipping Pat off but I think it still counts, lol.

EP3b: We get an actual handshake as Pat convinces (manipulates) his engineering gang to help with the bus stop rebuild. IMO, if they were alone as with all their other fist bumps, this hand shake would have been a bumpin’ of fists too, but since they had an audience it became a more formal handshake instead...as men are aught to do, lol.

EP4: They do the bro (pfft) handshake in the stairwell of their dorms after successfully manipulating their friends to compete with the bus stop rebuild assignments. This isn’t a fist bump per se but it’s so funny how Pran shakes off the sting of Pat’s grip afterwards that it deserves a nod.

EP6: The whoever falls in love first loses, sealed with a fist bump.

EP10: The stairway declaration of love ends on a fist bump.

EP11: They fist bump on the agreement that whoever mentions their families first loses.

There may be others that I’m forgetting, but my point is we know that fist bumps are their thing and they don’t go around fist bumping other people willy nilly either so it means something to PatPran as if the gesture is symbolically reserved just for each other.

So... this got me thinking (putting on my clown gear) how the show could call back to the fist bumps in the finale without giving us any 2gether PTSD. 

Here’s how I think it could play out: (under the cut to shield those who don’t subscribe to clownfoolery).

The fun (crack) scenario:

PatPran see each other at their high school reunion. Assuming this takes place at their actual high school; after an awkward meeting of the eyes they navigate the space around each other aware that they’re not alone and in fact surrounded by people who fully remember their high school rivalry. Finally, after some forced socializing and reminiscing amongst high school peers, the party begins to wind down, Pat looks around and notices Pran gone. And goes looking for him.. where else but on the school’s rooftop...

Once there, Pran who is alone, without turning around says:

Pran: Took you long enough.

Pat: Not my fault, you know those assholes are longwinded with their remember whens.

Pran: *rolls eyes fondly* Why is it that every single one of their stories involves you?

Pat: (struts) Babe, I can't help it if I'm both hot and popular.

Pran: (finally turns around wearing a smirk) More like all those school pranks came from that head of yours.

Pat: And smart too..Damn, I'm an entire package.

Pran: (laughing) Can I pay you to be less confident?

Pat: The amount of times you've said that, I should be a rich man by now.

Pran: You are a rich man.

Pat: I knew you were after me for my money-

Pran: -and your body, don't forget that.

Pat: So when the day comes when I'm dirt poor and sporting a dad bod-

Pran: (smiling with barely concealed heart eyes) I've been counting down to that day.

Pat: (laughs) Asshole.

Pat: (eyes sparkling) Let's compete, whoever gets the dad bod first loses (holds out fist, a wedding band is visible on his ring finger)

Pran: Deal (moves to bump fists, a wedding band is also visible, but instead of a closed fist he pulls Pat in with an open palm wrapped around Pat's fist and kisses him).

[Likelihood of becoming canon: zilch, nada, zero. 0/10 chances in case it wasn't clear. 😭]

-------

Scenario B: the angstier route (but really wrapped in gooey fun anyway).

At the same high school reunion. All things remaining the same, Pat goes to look for Pran on the roof.

As Pat approaches, Pran's back visibly tenses. They stand there quietly reacclimating to sharing the same space again.

Both: How-

Pat: You go ahead.

Pran: No, you, I insist.

And because Pat always lets Pran win.

Pat: H-how have you been?

Pran: I've been..(pause) okay, you?

Pat: (looks at Pran in that probing way he does but to Pran's credit, he doesn't look away and meets Pat's fierce stare straight on).

Pat: (audible release of held breath) I'm guessing your okay is the same as mine, which is to say not okay at all. (Looks at Pran meaningfully).

Pran: (resigned sigh) What do you want me to say, Pat?

Pat: (after several silent beats) Say that you've been miserable too. That you wake up everyday with a huge piece of yourself missing. That this has been the worst few years of your life. That you're done with barely getting by. That you still-

Pran: (tears silently running down his face)...Yes.

Pat: Yes? To which part?

Pran: All of it.

Pat: (lets out another audibly held breath) Well, where does that leave us?

Pran: (looks at Pat for several beats, seemingly having reached a decision within himself). I'm back in town, staying with my parents until I find my own place. Maybe we could try...

Pat: (considers) You could move in with me.

Pran: (defeated) I don't think my parents would agree to that. Besides isn't that moving kinda fast?

Pat: (serious) What's fast? We've already lost 3 years, 6 if you count the first time we were separated. I'm ready to make up for lost time, aren't you?

Pran: (resigned) Pat.. you can't just- the reasons for us being apart still exists, as much as you want to will them away. This is our reality.

Pat: So you're saying if our parents weren't an issue, you'd say yes?

Pran: That's not realistic, Pat. This is a situation where love doesn't conquer all.

Pat: (smirks) Are you quoting Virgil to me right now?

Pran: (confused) What? Who the hell is Virgil?

Pat: (laughs) Doesn't matter, not important. But I need an answer, Pran.

Pran: What was the question again?

Pat: If our parents' feud was no longer an obstacle, would you still want this? (gestures between them)

Pran stares and stares at Pat. A full minute passes.

Pat: Oh man, I feel like shit now. You have to think that hard?

Pran: (long sigh) You know it's always been you for me. I just don't see how it's possible. We have to live in reality, Pat. Not some make-believe ideal world where if you try hard enough you can change people's mindset.

Pat: (confident) This is where you're wrong. I've been busy while you were gone, (shrugs) I guess I needed the distraction.

Pran: (skeptical) What do you mean?

Pat: I meant that I needed to keep busy so I don't spiral from missing you.

Pran: No, you idiot, the part about me being wrong.

Pat: Oh that (proceeds to brush off imaginary lint from his shirt to build the suspense).

Pran patiently waits while rolling his eyes at Pat's dramatics.

Pat: (nonchalantly) I created a patent, one that improves both our families businesses one hundredth fold.

Pran: (smiling, in awe and proud but also not surprised at Pat's genius).

Pat: Your dad was the inspiration and helped spearhead the project.

Pran: (shocked) What?!!

Pat: (beaming) Long story short, your dad and I are besties now. Korn is very miffed about that btw.

Pran: WHAT?!!

Pat: (smiling) So you see, your very capable man solved everything while you were away slumming with who knows what. Also, I want Nong Nao back, I know you stole it. Thief.

Pran: Back up, so you managed to win over dad, which I still need the full story of, but more importantly what about mom? Dissaya wouldn't have been easy to turnaround.

Pat: Oh she wasn't. (Proceeds to pick at the invisible lint again).

Pran: (frustrated) Dammit, Pat!

Pat: (laughs) We can thank Wai and Pa for opening that door. Wai arranged a sit down between your mom, my mom and Pa on neutral ground of course. The truth of you saving Pa all those years ago came out, there were lots of tears. Buckets full. Mom bowed to your mom thanking her for raising such a considerate and brave son- to dive in and save Pa- without second thought. Needless to say, there were lots of Pran the hero talk yadda yadda yadda (waves hand dismissively and chuckles).

Pran: (stunned) How did mom react?

Pat: She was.... receptive. Pa can be very persuasive and she learned from the best so between her and mom, Dissaya was fiercely outnumbered.

Pran: But what about your dad?

Pat: (absently runs his hand through his hair) Dad was royally pissed that mom and Pa met with your mom behind his back, there was lots of yelling. Then he learned of your heroics (smiles softly) and mom put down the hammer and said she would leave him if he didn't go and make it right with Dissaya and told him to just look at Pa and imagine the worst case scenario, if you weren't there at the right time and place- or if you had let their feud color your decision to save a supposed enemy. Mom emphasized that you, me and Pa were innocent in all of this and shouldn't have to pay for the sins of the father, literally. And that it's gone on long enough and she won't be a quiet enabler anymore.

Pran: (stunned) Wow.

Pat: (takes a breath) It took dad a long time but he finally relented and apologized for what he did to your mom back in school. It wasn't an immediate reconciliation by any means, your mom had a lot to forgive, and to this day, Dissaya and my dad still go out of their way to avoid each other but it isn't as bad as it was before. Your mom has lessened the eye glaring at least. It's a start anyway.

Pran: Why did no one tell me any of this?

Pat: (sheepish) That was the deal I made with your mom. She said she wouldn't interfere with us again, if you still wanted me, her words not mine, on the condition that you came back on your own terms. I couldn't go chase after you and bring you back. You coming back to me had to be a choice you made for yourself.

Pran: (speechless) She said that? That it was my choice?

Pat: Yeah we totally bumped fists on it too.

Pran: (laughs) You did not!

Pat: (laughs) (pause) (clears throat) (pauses some more) (nervous) So, Mr. Parakul, what do you say? Move in with me? You have to say yes.

Pran: (seriously considers) Do I really have to give back Nong Nao?

Pat: (accusatory) I knew it! You little thief! And hell yes, you do.

Pran: Hmm.. then no deal.

Pat: (whine) Prannnnnn...

Pran: If you relinquish all rights to Nong Nao now and into the future, then maybe I'll consider sharing a bathroom with you.

Narrator: And because Pran always wins when it comes to Pat.

Pat: (acting fake defeated) Fine, you win. Deal. (Holds out fist to bump).

Pran: (holds out fist but pulls it away at the last second) I've got a better way to seal the deal. (grabs Pat by the neck)

Pat smiles wide and leans into the kiss. And finds himself home at last and if the kiss tastes a little bit salty from their tears neither of them mention it.

End scene.

[Likelihood of becoming canon: maybe 0.5/10? Lmao. It was fun going down this rabbit hole though.]

Holy crap! This was long. OMG 🥴😱 I'm really, really sorry 😞 this got away from me. If you've read up to this point, I commend your tolerance for clownfoolery.

*Let it be known that Wai's involvement in helping Pat mend fences with Pran's mom in no way makes up for Wai's past deeds. I will forever hold that against him. For me, he's Wai the Weasel, the Waisel if you will. He can earn back the boys trust but never mine. He's as good as dead to me. He's just a convenient plot device that I will use and then happily go back to ignoring his existence. Yes, I'm bitter and I like it here.

**I know Pat calls his dad 'Papa' in the subs but every time I started typing out papa it made me think of Papa Smurf and I just couldn't do it, guys. I really tried. So dad it is.

***The patent Pat creates involves hand waving engineering but I'd imagine some type of app that allows for easier measurements of supplies and estimations of costs. Again, hand waving science here, folks. It captures the attention of Logtech (the company PatPran pitched the eco bus stop to) who wants to finance the patent and Pat pulls in Korn and Wai to handle the administrative and logistical side because he can't be bothered. This is why they're all working together in the preview. Okay? Lol.

****The big reveal of Pran choosing to save Pa as a catalyst for Dissaya relenting on their relationship was her recognizing that she screwed up badly in his upbringing, so bad that her sweet, brave boy felt he had to hide doing something so noble from her. And it made her reexamine all the other things he had to hide from her. This made her acknowledged that she was already halfway to losing him if he stopped being so open about his life with her. The condition that Pran chooses Pat without any knowledge of Pat's efforts in fixing their situation was her way of giving Pran back some of his agency. She wanted Pran to choose Pat for himself not because he was beholden to anything else. So basically the opposite of not being with Pat because of her.

*****Boys, you've earned your freedom to love and I'm 😭😭😭.

#bad buddy #fist bump #a whole head canon that wont leave me alone #patpran #high school reunion #resolution #freedom to love is freeing #our boys deserve it #and more #pat is still the best boy #trying to make sense of the time skip #bad buddy series #pat x pran #bad buddy the series #bad buddy brain rot #my stuff #canon fodder #even though this grew into a monster I'm kinda proud of it?? #should I put this on ao3 or am I just clowning myself #theories #bbs #finale #bad buddy ep12 #bad buddy series ep 12 #clownfoolery #clown theories #the predictions you didn't ask for #it all started with the iconic fist bump #i had to call back to it before we said goodbye to our boys #cries softly

[detectivereyes]

And You’ll Still Be By My Side

Summary: Carlos just wanted to fix his Camaro... fate has other plans. And TK also has a front row seat.

dedicated to the person who is constantly on the same wavelength as me and leaves me questioning if we’re actually the same person, @marjansmarwani. jillian - happy birthday love!! i adore you so much and i don’t know what i would do without talking to you everyday about everything from fic ideas to clown theories to our own personal lives. i am so grateful for our friendship and i wish you all the best on your special day 💗

read on ao3

“If you’re going to insist on being out here with me, you could at least try to help,” Carlos says, leaning up from where he was hunched over the popped hood of his Camaro. He wipes a bead a sweat off his forehead and drapes the damp rag over his shoulder.

TK can’t help but drink in the sight of the other man. With his white tight-fitted t-shirt that has various oil stains, and smudges of grease painting under his chin and cheeks where his hands have rubbed, TK never thought seeing Carlos playing mechanic could be so hot. 

“I think I’m okay over here,” he says with a smirk.

Carlos shakes his head and returns to his hunched over position in the car hood, working on whatever needed fixing in his precious Camaro. TK doesn’t know much about cars, but all he gathered from Carlos was that whatever it was, it was something he could fix on his own. And maybe something about not trusting an actual mechanic with his baby.

Which is how he found himself sitting on the workbench in Carlos’ garage, with his legs dangling off the edge, trying to follow what Carlos was doing. The other man would occasionally look up and explain his actions, but TK had given up trying to follow along, instead opting to take in his boyfriend’s look.

He watches as Carlos' face scrunches in confusion before softening into a smile as he continues working. TK may not know what exactly is going on, but he damn sure loves watching Carlos work.

“I think you should dress like this more often,” he notes, catching Carlos attention the next time he looks up.

“You mean sweaty and in a tee that I should have thrown out years ago?”

“Yeah,” TK says, biting his lips with a smirk. “It looks good on you.”

Carlos lightly chuckles. “You are a menace, TK Strand. Now, stop distracting me.”

TK mirrors his laugh as the other man leans back into the hood. “You love having me out here.”

“Do I?” Carlos asks, muffled by the sound of him not bothering to lift his head up.

TK rolls his eyes in lieu of an answer and pulls out his phone. “Hey what do you want for dinner? I was thinking we could just order something. Maybe from that new Thai place we’ve been wanting to try?”

“Well, I was just going to cook,” he says from within the car hood. “I think we already have all the ingredients to make chile relleno.”

“You’ve been working hard all afternoon, I don’t want to make you cook.”

“Really, I don’t mind,” Carlos says, leaning up and wiping off his brow before resting his hand on the rim of the hood. “Whatever you want though. Just have to make sure we have everything we need.”

TK shrugs, pulling up the recipe on his phone to run through the list of ingredients. He’s halfway through the article when a pained whimper catches his attention. He looks up to find Carlos wide eyed, staring off into the distance and the hood of the car swinging back up. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for TK to put the pieces together for what had just happened.

“Are you okay, babe?” he asks, carefully.

Carlos takes a few measured breaths before shaking his head. He quickly darts past TK, pulling his hand up close to his chest and entering their home, TK wasting no time hopping off the workbench and treads on the heels of Carlos.

He follows the other man into the kitchen, watching as he opens the freezer and digs around until he pulls out a pack of frozen peas. Carlos sighs a breath of relief as he clutches the bag against his hand, holding both close to his chest.

“Hey, let me take a look,” TK says cautiously approaches his boyfriend, unable to not let his paramedic side show.

Carlos hesitantly pulls his hand away, letting TK gently cradle his hand as he examines it. The area on the back of his palm is already beginning to swell and the skin around where the hood made contact is broken and bleeding. Carlos sucks in a sharp breath as TK runs his fingers around the bruised area.

“This doesn’t look good,” he notes. “We should probably go to the emergency room.”

“You think it’s broken?” 

“Probably,” TK gives him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry babe. Just keep icing it and I’ll go get the car started.”

Carlos grimaces and before TK can ask if he’s hurt more he opens his mouth. “That’s going to be a problem, considering I wasn’t exactly finished working on it yet.”

“Oh,” TK says, pausing for a second to consider their options. “Do you want to give your dad or my dad a call then?”

“Or we could just Uber and spare the embarrassment and hovering.”

“Hate to break it to you, but I think you’ll be dealing with that anyway. But I guess we can hold off on it and call an Uber now,” TK says with a sympathetic smile.

“You’re not doing it right,” Carlos says, the exasperation in his voice clearly filtering through as much as he tries to hide it.

TK stops what he’s doing prepping the peppers to lean on the counter and look at Carlos. He looks just as miserable as he did a few hours ago while they were waiting for his x-ray results in the emergency room, complaining of smelling like oil and unable to even move his hand. Now with his right hand in a cast extending down his wrist, he’s trying and failing to hide his annoyance at the situation.

During their Uber ride back home, he was quick to suggest they go with TK’s original suggestion of ordering out but TK waved him off. After the afternoon they had, TK was determined to not let anything stop them from eating chile relleno like they had originally planned. 

Which is what led to Carlos attempting to walk TK through the steps of recipe. Though he had watched Carlos make the dish before, he’s finding it much harder to be doing it himself. But he continues to try his best.

“What do you mean? I’m cleaning the peppers out, just like you said.”

“No, you’re missing seeds and veins. If you don’t get them all out, it’s going to be way too spicy and I know you hate spicy food,” Carlos explains, trying to keep his cool. “Let me try,” he says, already reaching across the counter for the cutting board. 

“No, I got it,” TK quickly replies, shifting the peppers out his reach. He gives him a sweet smile, and returns his attention back to cleaning out the vegetables. He can see Carlos still shaking his head out of the corner of his eye. “You know I am capable of handling myself in the kitchen, right?”

Carlos playfully rolls his eyes before launching into the next steps of walking TK through how to roast the peppers. 

TK continues to try and following each step of making the stuffing for it, though it feels like with each step Carlos has something to point out. Whether it’s not making the cuts in the peppers right, or whisking the batter to quickly. By the time he jumps up to turn the simmer down to avoid burning the sauce, Carlos is already pulling out his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Ordering from that Thai place,” he answers calmly, placing his phone down on the table before scrolling through the delivery app with his left hand.

TK twists his face, trying to formulate an argument before giving up with a sigh. “I’m sorry, babe. I know this isn’t what you wanted.”

Carlos glances up at him with a soft smile. “No, but I know you tried your best and I did enjoy watching you give it a shot.”

“Oh,” TK bites back a laugh and moves around the counter to place a soft kiss on Carlos cheek. ”I’m sure it was very entertaining.”

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #my fic #userjillian #usermaximus #userbones #userjilly #userkimmy #tuserpaige #moviegeek03

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

mirrorball

Summary: in every life, that they’ve ever lived, they’ve chosen to come back, and find each other, and fall in love with each other over and over again 

Notes: As promised, another part of my folklore series.  Enjoy!!

AO3

As much as Kurt loved going to the theater or eating dinner in dimly-lit restaurants around the city, his favorite dates were the ones spent at home. 

When he and Blaine danced around each other in the kitchen trying out a new recipe for dinner. When there’s cheesecake cooling in the fridge. With music flooding their ears. 

As they set the table, Kurt brings his arms around Blaine and pulls their bodies together. Their fronts pressed together and noses touching. 

“I’m so in love with you,” he tells him. 

The oven beeps so Kurt quickly moves away to get their dinner before it burns. 

I want you to know

I'm a mirrorball

I'll show you every version of yourself tonight

I'll get you out on the floor

Shimmering beautiful

And when I break it's in a million pieces

Later, when the dishes are on the drying rack and the pots and pans are soaking in the sink, Kurt and Blaine are curled up together on the couch. The playlist from earlier is starting over, the sun has set and the apartment grows darker. 

Blaine sits up to lit a candle but snuggles right back under the blanket with his boyfriend. 

“I love you too, you know?” 

Kurt kisses the top of his head. 

“What if we hadn’t met?” 

“If you didn’t come to Dalton?” Blaine asks. 

Kurt nods. 

“I’d find you,” Blaine says, “I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from being pulled towards you.” 

“You really believe that?” 

Blaine just kisses him. 

 Hush

When no one is around, my dear

You'll find me on my tallest tiptoes

Spinning in my highest heels, love

Shining just for you

 For the next week, Kurt comes up with plenty of scenarios for a different life for them. Each time, Blaine has their perfect meeting to go along with it. 

They’re getting ready together that morning. Standing in their small bathroom. Blaine applying gel and Kurt brushing his teeth. 

“If I were a Prince...” he mumbles around the toothbrush. 

“And I, a commoner living in a stone house outside the castle,” Blaine continued, “you’d come into town and bump into me while buying fabric. Our eyes met and boom: love at first sight.” 

Kurt rolled his eyes and rinsed his mouth. “Or maybe you sneak into a ball where I am supposed to find my future husband. We dance together and I just know it’s you. It’s always you.” 

Blaine had cupped his face and kissed him. 

“Minty,” he said with a laugh. 

 Hush

I know they said the end is near

But I'm still on my tallest tiptoes

Spinning in my highest heels, love

Shining just for you

I want you to know

I'm a mirrorball

This back and forth became a game of “What if…” with Kurt normally asking the questions and Blaine being quick to answer. 

“Okay, but what if…we didn’t live in Ohio. If I grew up here and you came from LA.”

“I’m not a Hollywood guy, Kurt, my acting would still take me to Broadway.”

“Maybe your career would take you to the West End in London.”

Blaine side-eyed Kurt for a moment. “Out of the two of us, I think you’re way more likely to go to the West End than me.” 

Kurt chuckled. “You’re right.” 

“And how come in all these situations, I have to come to you. How about you come to me?”

“Okay, you start then.” 

Blaine takes in a breath and decides on his scenario. 

 I can change everything about me to fit in

You are not like the regulars

The masquerade revelers

Drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten

 At eighteen, Blaine Anderson was expected to be married. Soon, his older brother Prince Cooper would take the throne, and until he and his wife produced an heir Blaine would be second-in-line for the crown. 

The only problem with getting married was the lack of unmarried gay princes. As far as Blaine knew, he was the only one. Prince Sebastian had tried to court Blaine years ago but ultimately married Prince Hunter of the Southern Kingdom. Princes Nick and Jeff had been betrothed since birth in order to unite their respective kingdoms. 

Due to this issue, his father was hosting a ball. All major and minor kingdoms were invited, especially those farthest away. Even ones that they normally did not interact with because Blaine was in desperate need of a husband.  

Blaine’s only request for this ball was that it be a masquerade. His father, of course, thought this to be a bad idea but Blaine insisted. There was much less pressure on his shoulders if those he danced with and spoke to weren’t sure if he was the prince or not. 

 Hush

When no one is around, my dear

You'll find me on my tallest tiptoes

Spinning in my highest heels, love

Shining just for you

 Kurt’s voice broke the fantasy. “So, in this situation, am I also a prince? Just from a far away kingdom?” 

“If you’d let me finish,” Blaine said, “you’d know that information.” 

His boyfriend lightly slaps his shoulder. “Don’t be mean.”

“Be patient,” Blaine countered. 

“How about this instead?” Kurt inched closer to him on the couch. “We dance together at the ball and I pull you out of the ballroom, charm you, and we kiss just outside the party pressed together in the dark hallway.”

“Then what?” Blaine asked, their lips brushing together. 

“We live happily ever after, of course,” Kurt told him before pressing their mouths together. 

 Hush

I know they said the end is near

But I'm still on my tallest tiptoes

Spinning in my highest heels, love

Shining just for you

 When they wake up from their unprompted nap, the sun is just starting to set. Golden hour tanning Kurt’s pale skin and highlighting his messy hair. 

Blaine only gets a few moments to stare at his boyfriend. Watching his breathing, the small twitches his body makes, and his unconsciousness making him move closer to Blaine. Then, he stirred and lazily opened his eyes. 

“Hey you,” Blaine said. 

Kurt hummed but even in his sleepy state, he gave Blaine a toothy smile. 

“We should make dinner.” 

In reply, Kurt snuggled closer to Blaine. 

“Or we could order take-out.” 

Blaine felt Kurt nod. 

“Okay. Thai?”

Kurt shook his head. 

“No Thai. Italian? I could go for some fettuccine alfredo.” 

Another no. 

“Alright, what do you want?” 

“Greasy fries and a burger.” 

Blaine abruptly moved away to stare down at Kurt, who groaned clearly unhappy that his space heater was gone. Kurt made grabby hands for Blaine to come back. Unable to resist him or cuddling, Blaine readjusted himself next to Kurt. 

“Seriously, you want a burger?” Blaine asked. 

“Yes please.” 

With a short laugh, Blaine grabbed his phone from the nightstand and put in an order for delivery for burgers and fries. 

“Milkshakes?” he questioned. 

“Strawberry.”

And two strawberry shakes. 

 And they called off the circus

Burned the disco down

When they sent home the horses

And the rodeo clowns

 As they unwrapped their burgers, Blaine started another scenario. 

“Alright, this time I’m a famous sports player.”

Immediately, Kurt cut him off. “What sport?” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Blaine told him. “And you’re dragged to a game with your dad or Finn or someone.” 

“It matters to me.” Kurt sipped his shake. “If I’m to form a successful happy ending, I need all the information, Blaine. You know I’m a detail guy.” 

Blaine bites his tongue. As usual, Kurt’s stubbornness was shining through. Except this time, he was clearly joking if his smirk had anything to say about it. 

“Football.”

“You better get taller and put on some muscle mass first. You’ll get pummeled.” 

"Says the formed McKinley High kicker."

"And I would've been pummeled otherwise," Kurt tells him.

“Fine, not football. Um, how about hockey?” 

“You are an excellent skater.” 

“Thank you.” Blaine beamed. “Anyway, I’m a jock and you’re a non-fan.” 

“Professional jock,” Kurt corrected. 

“Eat your burger and listen.” 

 I'm still on that tightrope

I'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me

I'm still a believer but I don't know why

I've never been a natural

All I do is try, try, try

I'm still on that trapeze

I'm still trying everything

To keep you looking at me

 Kurt couldn’t believe he was letting his dad and Finn drag him to a hockey game. It’s freezing even if they’re not right up against the glass. Despite hot chocolate in his hands, Kurt’s shivering. 

“Tickets came with money on them. Go buy a sweatshirt,” Burt says. 

“You can take my coat,” Finn offers. “I want to show off my jersey anyway.” 

Kurt takes Finn’s coat but instantly hands it back because it’s way too long and he can’t sit comfortably with it on. 

“I’m going to the gift shop.” 

“Be back soon if you don’t wanna miss the puck drop,” Burt tells him.

It’s hard to get lost in a hockey stadium because it’s just a circle so long as Kurt has his ticket he can get back to the seats. He finds the gift shop to be mostly empty despite the insane amount of people here for the game.

He remembers the patriotic colors his dad and Finn were wearing and tried to find the least offensive sweatshirt that supports the Ohio team. 

“You don’t have to get Blue Jackets just cause you’re from Ohio,” a voice tells him. 

“I rather not get booed at,” Kurt replies, resisting the urge to say the booing would be by his own family. 

“Fair enough.” The man shrugs. “I’m partial to the black and silver of the Kings.” 

Kurt looks at the sweatshirt in question. It’s much less...loud than the Blue Jackets.

“Isn’t that the opposing team?” 

He smirks. It’s then that Kurt really gets a good look at the man. He’s not wearing either team’s colors. No nametag or uniform either. So, he probably doesn’t work for the stadium. 

“Who are you exactly?” 

“Blaine Anderson.”

Kurt shakes his hand. “Kurt Hummel.”

“Nice to meet you, Kurt.” 

“You too but that didn’t answer my question, who are you? You don’t work here and you don’t seem overly invested in the game since you couldn’t be bothered to wear either of their jerseys.” 

“Let’s just say, you’ll see me on the ice.” 

Then, Blaine handed Kurt a piece of paper with his number on it and walked off. 

 Because I'm a mirrorball

I'm a mirrorball

I'll show you every version of yourself

Tonight

By the time Blaine has finished his alternative meeting, Kurt has dragged him away from the kitchen into the living room. He moved their coffee table out of the way and pushed the sofas back. 

“So, I find out you’re a hockey player after the game,” Kurt said, “I text you on the way home asking if you were distracted because your team lost.” 

“And I say, I couldn’t keep my eyes on the puck because I was searching for you in the stands.” 

“Cheesy.” 

Blaine smiled. 

Kurt extended his right hand, “may I have this dance?” 

“There’s no music,” Blaine answered but placed his hand into Kurt’s regardless. 

Kurt pulled their bodies close so Blaine could rest his head against Kurt’s shoulder. Tucked together swaying in their living room. 

“You’re all the music I need.”

#klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #klaine #my fics #folklore series

[clockworkgraystairs]

HERE FOR YOU || Jurdan College AU Pt. 2

Warnings: None. Swearing maybe?

Tags: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23​ @aesthetics-11​ @hizqueen4life​ @duarteegreenbriar​ @mysweetvilllain​ @judexcardanxgreenbriar​ @nite0wl29​ @althekingshorses​ @thewickedkings​ @demydreamer-otaku-and-book-lover​ @thesirenwashere​ @b00kworm​ @acourtofmoonlight​ @queen-of-glass​ @random-llama-socks​ @jurdanhell​ @cardan-greenbriar-tcp​ 

[if I forgot to tag anyone or if you want to be tagged let me know!]

Summary: After finding a very ill and feverish Jude, Cardan takes her to the doctor. And deals with her usual stubbornness.

HFY Masterlist      Pt 1   Pt 2   Pt 3   Pt 4 [coming soon] 

AO3 link

My masterlist

Cardan had never liked doctors. When he was a little kid, his mother had to apologize several times because he kept glaring and calling them creepy warlocks, claiming they cured people using potions that stunk and had a sour flavor. And even though he’d got over that phase of his life, the scent of medicine still gave him a slight skittish sensation. 

Now, after nearly an hour of waiting he was definitely not enjoying himself, except that this time he couldn’t quite tell if the feeling was because of the smell or not knowing what the doctor was telling Jude, making his muscles tense more with every minute that passed.

One part of him wished nothing more than yell at her for being so reckless and not seeking for help earlier. 

The other part though, kept thinking about that morning.  

He and Jude had agreed to meet every monday and  friday at 9:00 am to work on their final project. At the beginning their meetings had place at the school’s library, since they didn’t talk much. Not because he didn’t want to, of course. But after years of confronting Jude at class, he’d learn to give her space when she focused on something. And maybe because she was a little scary too. 

Within time, her frowning glares became curious eyes and her monosyllabic answers, full conversations.

By the third month, they had to look for a new place to meet. The library’s manager, tired of scolding them at least six times a day for talking and laughing too loud, had forbid them to enter the building together. Or being together in there at all.  

That’s how they ended up in a coffee shop near the campus. The place was small and cozy. The owner, an old sweet lady called Joanne, prepared the best cappuccinos Cardan had ever tasted. 

That morning though, he hadn’t been able to take a sip of his beverage. The two cups of coffee steaming on the table seem to mock him as he alternated his gaze between them and the door, waiting for her to arrive. His leg bounced uneasily and he felt his hands sweatier than usual.

 He glanced at the clock. 9:20 am. She was already twenty minutes late. Jude was never late. 

From the kitchen, Joanne whistled cheerfully the song that came out from the speakers. An italian song he couldn’t identify. When her eyes crossed Cardan’s she smiled and gave him an encouraging nod. He shifted on his seat, looking down at the small bunch of flowers he’d bought. The white peonies and daisies rested smoothly on the wooden table.  

Damn her. Of all days, she’d chose this one to be late.

When he woke up that morning, he was thoroughly decided to finally come clean. To finally tell Jude he was in love with her.

He sent her another message. Nothing. 

He called her. No answer. Again. 

Had she forgotten? 

Impossible, they met there twice a week. 

The only possible option left in his mind was that she’d remembered. And didn’t care.  

Anger pooled on his stomach. What an idiot he felt now. They had an agreement, imposed by her by the way, of letting the other one know about any inconvenience. Was he really that insignificant for her he didn’t deserve a simple notice? 

Bottle it up, he said to himself.

That’s when he remembered she’d been absent from class those last two days too. Even professor Noggle asked about her, a thing he didn’t do with most of the students. 

Cardan frowned. In a swift move he stood and walked out. 

He left the money for the coffee on the table, and the flowers next to it. 

The door opened, bringing him back to the present. As Jude walked out of the consulting room, he noticed her pallor had decreased. Not enough to relax him, but it was something. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, raising to stand next to her. 

She shrugged. “Better, I told you it was nothing. Let’s go.”

“Ah ah,” The doctor started, closing the door behind him. “That’s not exactly what I said young lady.”

Cardan frowned at her. Seriously? Her only answer was a deep sigh and rolling eyes. 

“My exact words were that it didn’t seem like something too serious or life-threatening. Not that it was nothing.” He took a prescriptions block out of his coat and scrawled something in the front page. Jude groaned.  “It’s most likely a severe stomach flu, aggravated by the days it was left untreated. But since the fever was strong, I’d like to wait and see if it settles now.”

“Most likely?” Cardan repeated, his brows pulled together in a frown. What had he paid this clown for, then? 

“Well it’s always good to scrap any other possibility, I took a blood sample from miss Duarte so I can send it to the lab. But I don’t believe it will show any other result.”

He nodded. “So what now? We just wait?”

“Cardan.” Jude mumbled. He didn’t move his eyes from the doctor.

“Pretty much.” He handed him the prescription. “She got an injection for the temperature already. Here are scripted some pills she’ll need to take for the next three to five days, to help with the nausea. And of course, lots of water and electrolytes.”

“Thank you, I’ll get those right away.” She said as she snatched the paper from Cardan’s hand and put it away. 

“Miss Duarte, I’ll recommend you to stay under observation the next two days. Just in case the fever returns and you need immediate assistance.” 

“Of course.” Jude answered nonchalantly, already reaching for the exit. “I’ll let my sister know so she can come over. Thanks.”

Back on his car he drove in silence. ‘Never let me go’ by Florence + The Machine sounded low on the radio. With closed eyes, Jude leaned towards the open window, her brunette locks flying wildly around her head. 

Cardan glanced sidewards at her, forcing himself not to linger too much on her slightly parted lips. His mind went back to the moment she’d collapsed in his arms. Cheeks flushed and burning up in heat. Even if he never admitted it out loud, she’d scared the hell out of him. 

He pulled his attention back to the road and cleared his throat. “I thought both of your sisters were out of town. Is any of them back? I can call them if you like.”

Jude ignored his question. After a moment of silence she whispered. “Why are you doing this?” 

Cardan shrugged.  “It’s a little bit obvious isn’t it?” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “You have our full project on your laptop, Duarte. And it has a password. If you die, then how on earth am I supposed to recover it?”

A punch landed on his arm, followed by a soft chuckle. “Ass. And you don’t need to call anyone. It’s not necessary.”

“Meaning?” Now it was his turn to scowl.

“Meaning,” She sighed. “That I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, you already did more than enough. Besides you’re right, my sisters are far far away from here, right where they should.” 

He couldn’t believe his ears. Earning a honk from the car behind them, Cardan pushed the brake, leading the car aside so it could fully stop on the sideway. 

“Hey, calm down Toretto!” She shouted raggedly, grabbing the door handle for support. “What the fuck!?”

“What the fuck? That’s exactly what I’m asking you, Duarte!” Now he could fully turn to face her incredulous stare. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You passed out a couple of hours ago, you were burning up in fever. Do you realize that? Apparently not, because despite the recommendations, you still insist on not listening!” 

An exasperated sigh left his lungs. He grabbed the wheel tighter, trying to ease the growing pool of rage inside him. Calm down. He’d spent his life telling himself to calm down. Being terrible at expressing his feelings, he was used to get irritated every time he faced pain, or fear. Or pretty much anything, actually. But gods, how could she be so stubborn? 

Jude pressed her mouth into a thin line and looked down, her hands twisting faintly on her lap. She was indeed nervous about whatever illness loomed in her body, he noticed, trying to ignore the lips he so badly wanted to tug between his. 

“I’ll stay with you.” The words left his lips before he fully realized it. 

“You what? Don’t be rid-”

“The doctor said you needed to be under supervision.” He answered turning back to the road, and put his car on march again. She was probably giving him some murdering glare that he prefered to elude. “So you have two options sweetheart, either you let me stay at your place or you come back to mine, but a frat house it’s not exactly a place to rest. You are, by no means, staying alone.”

Half a second later, even the radio was muffled by her incessant ranting. Hardly determined to convince him of doing otherwise. 

Cardan just drove.

~

When he parked next to her building the sun was already setting. 

With her arms firmly folded across her chest Jude hadn’t stopped gritting her teeth all the way back. This was madness, she repeated to herself over and over. 

The man showed up out of nowhere, took her to the doctor, paid for her medicine and now wanted to stay in her apartment? No fucking way. 

The problem now, was that if there was anyone on earth even more stubborn than her, it was Cardan. A man that no matter how many times she asked him to just leave her on the sidewalk and leave, was now walking up the stairs next to her. A satisfied grin on his perfect charming face. If she didn’t feel as weak at the moment she’d slapped his way out of the place. 

Once inside she left the medicines and the gatorades on the table and turned to him. 

“For the hundredth time, Cardan. You don’t have to stay, everything is under control and I’m not feveri- what’s that?” She asked, noticing the hanging object on his shoulder.

“A backpack?” 

She rolled her eyes. “I‘m not blind, you ass. What are you doing with that backpack?”

“I always keep some extra clothes in my trunk. You know, in case I find myself in any unexpected situation.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her in a way that twisted her guts. Ugh, disgusting.

The repulse must’ve been written on her face too because he snickered for a second before throwing it next to the couch. “Becoming your hot nurse certainly fits in the category dear, you can’t deny that.” 

She blinked and pushed back the intrusive thoughts that emerged from his statement. Why was her mind against her today? Maybe the fever had burned her coherency brain cells, if she’d ever had any to begin with.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“I know.” Cardan dropped himself on the couch, opening a book he’d taken from his pack. “Now take those pills, put on your weird pijama and go rest.” 

Maybe she could still gather the strength to slap him after all.

Trying to ignore the sour flavor that shitty pills left on her mouth, Jude stood in front of the mirror. Wearing the shorts and the t-shirt she’d put on before they went to the doctor, she found herself suddenly worried by her clothing and messy hair. 

Which was utterly absurd. It wasn’t as if he cared at all about her wardrobe choices.

Still, the idea of them sleeping under the same roof unnerved her. It had been a long time since she’d had someone from the opposite sex staying the night. Either way, her exasperating classmate certainly hadn’t crossed her mind.

She bit her lip.

Ok that was a lie. Being honest she might have thought about it a couple of times. Mostly drunk. She always felt guilty the day after. And pissed. It left her wishing she could hate him again, like she did on sophomore year when he was truly a rude idiot. But no matter how hard she’d tried, his wits and dumb jokes had slowly changed her perspective of him. Not to mention those deep dark eyes and wicked smile of his. It only took a pair of tequila shots to start fantasizing about running her lips along that jaw. FINE, it didn’t take any tequilas to do that. But sober she had a tiny bit of control over her too-creative mind. Drunk Jude had already undressed him in her dreams once. Twice?

And now Cardan was outside, lying down on her comfy couch. Staying the night.

Jude chewed her inner cheek. This was a nightmare. 

As quiet as possible, she opened the door and peered outside. He was nowhere to be seen. Maybe some ancient deity took mercy on her and vanished him to oblivion. That or he was probably in the bathroom, so she tiptoed her way to the modest kitchen. 

She’d just finished preparing her chai tea when the bathroom’s door opened. Decided to ignore him, she kept her gaze down. 

At least until she caught a glimpse of him with the corner of her eyes. That, snapped her attention back. Oh no, no no no no.

“CARDAN GREENBRIAR WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“I...what?” 

“Could you please… I don’t know, maybe put a fucking shirt on?!” She could already feel her blood gathering on her cheeks. 

He paused and quirked an eyebrow. “For your information, Duarte, I tend to sleep naked. These pants are a sign of my consideration to you, since we’re at your place.” 

The goddamn idiot was made of marble. Jude knew he wasn’t precisely one of those big muscular men, not that it meant he didn’t have everything in place. His well formed shoulders and arms were visible even with clothes, and now she could admire the slightly marked muscles of his torso all the way down to the V that disappeared under his pine-green pants. His shoes were off too. 

“Are you blush-” He started, only to be cut by her murderous voice.

“Good night, Cardan.” Taking her cup, she crossed the place with big steps, slamming the bedroom’s door behind her. 

Leaning against the wood, she heard the couch creak as he laid down. Her breathing evened a little a few minutes after. 

Shit, that had been rude. Even if he’d imposed his presence there he was still a guest, her mind scolded her. A really hot guest. No no, don’t think of that now.

As silently as she could she opened the door again. And pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle her laugh at what she saw.  

Cardan’s legs hung over the couch’s arm. Which made sense, considering how tall he was, but right now it only looked bloody ridiculous, and kind of adorable. She tried to ignore the guilt that pierced her heart again. He seemed stiff. An idea shone on her mind. A terrible terrible idea.

“Cardan?” She whispered.

He hummed in response.

She swallowed and walked towards him. “You can’t sleep in there.”

He scoffed and looked at her through hooded eyes, dark and deep made her heart skip a beat. “If you’re trying again to convince me to leave…”

“I’m not.” Jude blurted, passing a hand over her curls. Somehow words seemed to stuck in her throat. “I mean- even when you are completely ignoring me about you not needing to be here… I guess I… What I try to say is-”

“Jude Duarte is babbling. Gods, now I’m intrigued.” He breathed, propping himself on his elbows.

She crossed her arms and tilted her head elusively. It was humiliating how easy it was for him to put her on edge. “Shut up will you? You can’t stay on the couch, it’s small and uncomfortable… And I, well, I happen to own a double bed.” 

Smooth, girl, smooth.

“Trying to lure me into your bed? So soon?” He teased, flashing her a smile, yet his joke didn’t reach his eyes. Something in them was different, they were wider, intense.

“You’re intentionally being an asshole.” She said, gritting her teeth. This time his tricky words and good looks wouldn’t affect her. She couldn’t allow it. “I just meant that we can both sleep there. Like, as far away as the bed allows but at least you could rest.”

For a second he just looked at her. Not mocking or rude, she couldn’t place the expression in his face. His jaw set, chest raising and falling slowly. “You don’t have to, Jude. I’m ok in here.”

“Don’t lie. Besides I’d feel better too. Not because- Ugh, I’d feel better knowing that I could at least make your staying more bearable, I guess.” That wasn’t so bad. Yet. And honestly she couldn’t tell if it was worse if he accepted, or refused. 

Back in her room an awkward silence filled the atmosphere as both laid side to side. Somehow, even if they were not touching, Jude could feel the heat of his skin. Her heart hammered so fast she swore he could listen to it.

“So…” He started.

Panic filled her senses, she needed to cut any conversation before saying or doing something she’d regret later. “There’s no need to mention it, just go to sleep… please.” She rolled onto her side, facing away from Cardan. “Good night.”

Jude barely heard him sigh. “Sweet dreams, Jude.”

~

It was hot. Really really hot. Fuck he couldn’t move. How much had he drank last night?

Wait. No, last night he didn’t go out with Locke. He’d said he would spend the weekend with his girlfriend, at least this month’s. Cardan had stopped mocking him for it long ago. 

Eyes still closed, he grimaced and tried to stretch but something held down his arm. As Cardan became more and more aware of his body, the memories of the day before flashed in his mind. The failed meeting with Jude, the flowers he’d spend almost an hour choosing, her body going limp against him, the useless doctor… Jude offering him her bed to sleep.  

That’s when something tickled his neck, startling him. 

No, not something.

Cardan’s eyes snapped open, he looked down and froze when he realized Jude’s body was pressed flush against him, one of her hands resting on his chest. Somehow their legs impossibly tangled. Terrified, he found his own arm encircling her waist, bare skin touching his fingers since her too big shirt had rolled up in her sleep.  

She shifted a little and her nose brushed his neck again, letting out a small breath that sent hot shivers down his body.

Any knowledge of how to move or think completely forgotten. He stared blankly at the ceiling. 

Fuck fuck fuck shit what the fucking fucks. 

#i'm so so sorry it took me so long!! #BUT HERE IT IS #honestly i'm not that happy with it #but i'll try to make it better for chapter 3!!! #oh some good stuff coming there #jurdan #jurdan college au #college au #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #tfota #holly black #jurdan fanfic #tess writes

[babyybitchhh]

Announcement

Alrighty, then. This post has been a long time coming so lets get right into it.

After much deliberation, I've decided not to push the self destruct button. I thought about it. Oh, when I say I was SO damn close to deleting this entire blog and all my fics right along with it. I'm frustrated and angry with myself, and I can't exactly say I'm doing well atm, but I know when things start to get better I'll want to write again, in earnest, and then I'd have to start over from scratch. Egg all over my face. Clown shit. We don't know her.

BUT. I think its clear to any and all that this is not working. It's just not. I expect too much of myself, for starters. And when it feels like others expect a certain level of performance from me that I just can't nail consistently due to my own ineptitude, my brain powers off. Is it some kind of executive dysfunction? Is it a fear of failing? A fear of success? Plain old anxiety? Who knows! I certainly don't. Whatever it is, it's hanging over my head like a guillotine. I'm beyond stressed and barely staying afloat irl, but then when I turn towards what should be a fun and therapeutic outlet all I see are expectations.

"When will you post the next chapter" on works that I WANT to finish but yet fear putting out a subpar product for and disappointing people.

"Will you write a follow up piece" for works that I WANT to expand on but don't know how to in a way that will make everyone else happy, let alone myself.

"Are you working on my request" for WIPs I have partially drafted and yet no way of knowing if that person - or anyone! - will even enjoy it.

I honestly feel guilty working on my own ideas instead of the multiple prompts in my inbox. I'm pretty sure that's part of my malfunction with my Ogun fic and others like it that are close to being done but remain unfinished simply because I'm thinking about what everyone else wants. It'd be one thing if I could just churn out content without a second thought but I can't. Like, it genuinely upsets me thinking that people are stuck in limbo waiting because I'm too chicken shit to just go with the flow instead of obsessing over every single line of text to the point of nausea, all for the sake of putting out "quality" content. I feel bad. I want to enjoy the writing process again, just like I did when I first got back into it with OsoSan. I shouldn't have started taking requests if I wasn't going to deliver, I know, and I sincerely apologize for my lack of foresight but it is what it is. I can't change the past. But what I CAN do is start fresh. So, long story short, there are going to be some changes coming to this blog.

A total revamp. I'm going to do an overhaul on the whole thing so don't be surprised when it starts to look different. I'm going to work primarily on navigation and organization, and try to tidy up a bit.

I'm turning off anon. Both because people looking to have a go with writers aren't so brave when that's no longer an option and also because I want to get as far away from those expectations as possible. I wont be reading or responding to comments on AO3 anymore for that same reason. I love you guys, and you're more than welcome to talk to me in DM's if you're more comfortable that way, but the long list of asks wanting to know wtf I'm doing in my spare time if not writing this or that is doing more harm than good.

I'm getting rid of the requests page and also purging any that I haven't already started working on - hopefully once I get into a better groove I'll actually be able to finish them, because I genuinely would like to. I really am sorry to everyone who's been waiting for their request to be fulfilled but I'm clearly not talented or confident enough to juggle my own ideas with someone else's. Maybe at some point in the future, when I'm a better writer, I'll start taking them again and we can all be happy.

And finally, I'm going to start experimenting with my writing method. As in, you're probably going to see shorter, less obsessively curated pieces popping up on my page that may not always be sexual in nature. I just really need to buckle down and work on this - all of it - and I'm determined to improve my skills even if it kills me. I have the urge to write every single day but it's hard when I'm the way I am and I've backed myself into a corner like this. I need to learn how to stop overthinking everything and just DO it. I know my productivity would increase and, with it, so would the overall quality of my work so I'm going to be focusing on different areas that need improvement. Not everything I put out will be good but that's part of the process, right? Right.

I totally understand if I lose followers for any of the above reasons, or even just personal ones, so don't hesitate to do so if you feel like you can't jive with this blog anymore. I appreciate you taking the time to read all this and I hope you understand my reasons for needing to do a reset on this page. This is exactly why I didn't want to start taking commissions and I would once again like to apologize to anyone I've let down.

P.S. I've had this distinct feeling that certain people in the writing community are not happy with me for a while now and although I'm not entirely sure what I've done wrong, I would still like to issue a formal apology for any toes I might have stepped on. That was never my intention. I can't claim to be a saint by any stretch of the imagination, but I have no ill will towards anyone. If its about the patreon I subscribed to and then left a month later, it had nothing to do with the author in question. I just belatedly realized I had more money coming out of my account than I could handle at the time and yes that weighs heavy on my shoulders. If its about the way I suddenly disappear in private chats, that's also something that shouldn't be taken personally. I genuinely have a hard time keeping up conversations with people, and I feel like a bother more often than not. If it's about the discords I join and then never participate in, see the above. If its about the way I fangirl or enthusiastically support some writers but not others, I never meant any harm by it. I just can't conceivably read everything that comes across my dash and, yes, my favorites are prioritized. Either way, whatever the grievances may be, anon will remain on until I start the revamp process some time tomorrow night so if whoever wants to air out their problems go for it. I probably wont post them but I will read them and try to learn from them, so have at it.

#small text so as to not take up so much room on people's dashes #personal #dumb bitch shit #I've already added a carrd to my bio so its easier to locate my age and such #I'd like to do a bit more with it but its late so : / #anyway I hope everyone's having a fine evening

[wayward-mikaelson]

His Little Sister--Part Two

Word Count: 2192

Requested By: @myinconnelly1​ She hyped it up for me and I am glad she did! The part where the Fan ask a questions was all her idea and I love it!

Pairing: Jared x Reader

Characters: Reader, Jared, Jensen, Richard Speight Jr, Misha, Alex, Rob Benedict, Fans, Cliff (Mentioned), Danneel Ackles (Mentioned). Ackles Twins (Mentioned).

About: Months have gone by and the Reader and Sam have successfully (and playfully) hidden their relationship from Jensen. But during a convention, the Reader and Sam don’t know that their soft conversation was heard by a fan who asks Jensen his thoughts about it in front of everyone.

Disclaimer: Language, Quickie (Unprotected--Don’t be silly wrap that willy), Angst, Fluff, Possible Pregnant Reader, 

Disclaimer 2: Any of the shorts that are hot and steamy, I want to put out there that it's in no way disrespectful towards Gen at all. I love her to death and respect that marriage between her and Jared. So when reading those shorts, know that it all takes place in an alternate world where they aren't married at all.

Forever Tag List: @donnaintx​ @myinconnelly1​ @hobby27​ @magssteenkamp​ @elansaidaris​ @440mxs-wife​ 

*18+ CONTENT. ANYONE YOUNGER THAN 18 WILL NEED TO MOVE ALONG. I DO NOT WANT TO RISK MY ACCOUNT BEING THANOSED.

**PLEASE DO NOT COPY AND PASTE MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND OR GIVING ME THE PROPER CREDIT. I WORK TOO HARD ON MY WORK TO HAVE IT STOLEN. YOU MAY COPY THE LINK TO THIS WORK AND SHARE IT. YOU MAY ADD THIS LINK TO A MASTERLIST.

***THIS WORK IS ALSO POSTED ON IG, WATTPAD, AND AO3. PLEASE GO SHOW IT LOVE OVER THERE.

****PLEASE GO FOLLOW ME ON MY OTHER ACCOUNTS IG, WATTPAD, AO3, AND TWITTER.

*****DMS ARE OPEN FOR REQUESTS

Read PART ONE

Want to read my favorite fanfics click HERE

I hold tight to the extra as he takes the fake blade out of themselves and stabs me with it. I pop the 'blood' capsule in my mouth and let it trickle out the corner of my mouth. I chuckle and take a step towards the fake cliff edge.

"Opheila, No!" Jared yells his line from a distance. I turn to him and give a smile smile before turning back to the extra.

"This is for Claire," I say my line in a wicked tone as the extra and I fall five feet into the giant air bag waiting for us below.

"Cut!" Rich yells from his chair. "Now that's what I call a wrap up!"

The extra and I roll off the bag. Jensen is waiting for me on the ground. "That was awesome," he says steadying me. I eye Jared off in the distance. He looks me up and down and winks at me before walking off. We have plans to meet up later.

Jared and I had been sleeping together for some months now. We had plans on telling my brother but, we kind of like the sneaking around. And since we were seeing each other secretly and having amazing hot sex, it made our characters chemistry on set better. Jensen and everyone just thought that it was amazing acting. So what everyone saw as Sam touching and or kissing Opheila, was actually Jared touching and or kissing me.

"So," Jensen and I walk back to the make up area so I can get this thick make up off my face. I feel like a part time clown and part time stripper. "What do you say we go out and celebrate tonight. It'll be me, you, Jared, maybe that chick Jared had talked to months ago, and that extra that keeps checking you out."

I choke on my water. "Jared says that chick," I say chick as smooth as I can. "wasn't what he's looking for. It wasn't going anywhere. Plus what extra?"

Jensen pulls me close to him and points to a dude all dressed up in black. "The demon that you killed before your fall with Claire's killer. He's been looking at you all freaking week and I've talked with him a few times. You might actually like him. Maybe get you back into the dating game."

I choke again. "We will see about that."

After I'm make up I free. I avoid my brother at all costs. I even avoid the journalist that have been hounding me for months. Ever since word had gotten out about my return to acting. every magazine and online news outlets wanted some part of me. And it wasn't because I was on Riverdale before it was because I am YN Ackles the little sister to Jensen.

I do a million double takes as I walk towards Jareds trailer. No one and I mean no one knew about us. We hid it that well. I get to his door when a voice stops me.

"Hey," it's Misha. "Tell that knuckle head it's on." He tosses an empty bottle of fart spray towards me. I barely catch it and realize it still has a smell.

"Oh God, "I make a face and throw it back Misha. "You're fucking gross, Misha." Misha dodges it and laughs as he walks away. The guys and their games and pranks. One of these days one of their pranks are going to back fire on them. Now that will be worth watching.

I walk into the trailer and once the door closes, Jared hands are pulling me away from the visible windows and pushing me up on the wall where no one can see us. "Took you long enough," His voice purrs into my ear as he unbuttons my shirt. I close my eyes and exhale. This is the best way to relax after a day like this.

"Sorry," I fumble with my belt and pants. "I was too busy loosing my brother on set." I finally get my belt off and pants undone. I push Jared back towards his bed, he's already working on his pants. I kick my pants off and throw my already unbuttoned shirt to the side. I walk up to Jared, whose now just in his boxers. His hard erection extremely visible. The throbbing and wetness in my core is screaming for it to be inside of me.

I push Jared onto his bed and straddle his lap. His cock poking me hard through our thin underwear. Jared reaches down between us and shoves not only his underwear off but mine as well. I lift myself up and slowly lower myself over his long, thick and throbbing cock. Jared groans and falls back onto the bed as I begin to move my hips up and down. He feels so good inside of me.

After a minute, Jared sits up and flips us over. He grabs my hands and pins them above my head and thrust deeper and faster inside of me. I bite my lip to keep myself from making a sound. A few small whimpers escape me. I kick my leg up and throw them around Jared waist to make sure he stays deep inside. Jared thrusts go from lightning fast to average and sloppy. He's close and I start to feel myself tighten hard around him.

I look into his eyes, "Don't pull out," I manage to get out in between thrusts and whimpers. With that, I feel Jared slam himself into me releasing everything he's got inside of me. I feel myself let go and arch myself into his chest. Jared slowly thrusts through both our orgasms.

"Wasn't my plan for it to be that short," Jared rolls over and pulls me to his chest. "Still amazing though." He kisses my head. "I love you YN."

"I love you, too, Jared," I take a deep breath until theres a knock on the trailer door.

***

A month as gone by and we are all back home. Jared and I are still seeing each other secretly. Jensen is doing interviews and such about this latest season of Supernatural. I have been contacted multiple time about bringing back my character on Riverdale. Today I gave the middle finger to them. They did me dirty by cutting me off from the show without telling me or let alone talking to me about it. I have a lot on my plate.

Dallas Con.

I walk out of the bathroom of my hotel room and see Jared sitting on the couch. His wringing his hands as he looks up at me. I hand him the stick in my hand. "This one says negative, but the one from last night for sure said positive."  My period was a week late. It's never late. It's always been on time. Until now. Six tests later four say I could be pregnant but the other two say I may not be.  

"We just keep testing," Jared sits it next to the other test I took from last night. "Until we know for sure."

"Babe," I sit next to him and take his hand. "Danneel needed a blood test with the twins after getting wonky test results like this. I'll call an OBGYN tomorrow and get in as soon as I can." I lean in and kiss him.  

"Okay," Jared smiles. "I trust you." He stands up and I stand up with him. "Should we head on down?"

Walking down the hotel hallway, Jared stops us and looks at me. "You know, I can actually see this whole thing being possible."

"That I can convince you to rip a condom off and have you cum inside me," I say. My mind is in the same place. "And to not pull out when a condom isn't in play." Those nights and days where Jared cums in me were always the best.

"Quite a few times, actually," Jared licks his lips which he knows is a dead ass turn on for me. "If we are pregnant, we will need to tell Jensen." Jared leans down to kiss me. "You'll be an amazing mom."  

The convention is a blast. We laugh and joke about our time on set. We even answer questions about Sam and Opheila. I don't think I have ever laughed that hard before. Everything was settling down and it was my cue to go off stage. As I am walking off I hear the next question. 

"This one is for Jensen," a fan says.

"Ha! Mine," Jensen playfully pushes Jared.

"How do you feel about YN being pregnant, becoming an uncle, and Jared being officially apart of the family?"

I spin around wondering if I heard that right. Jared chokes on his water. My brother's eyes widen. Rich and Rob both have their mouths hanging open. I feel the color drain from my face. I look back to see Misha and Alex staring too. The whole ball room is quite. I look back and lock eyes with Jared. How the hell did this fan know?

"What's that?" Jensen asks looking my way.

"How do you feel about your sister and Jared becoming parents?" the Fan asked again. This time there was something in her voice that knew that no one knew.

"Um," Jensen looks back at Jared. The look on his face was unreadable. "I'm still processing that. How do you feel, bro?" Jensen says bro with enough emphasis that makes me make my way to the water.

The rest of the panel is awkward. All questions were about Jared and I. Jensen's entire face is still unreadable that made me nervous. He has only been like this a few times before and it usually ends with him being pissed off.

When the panel is over Jensen walks up to me and takes my arm and pulls me out of the ballroom. Jared is following behind. Jensen takes us to a whole other part of the hotel. Before we know it we are in an empty room. Jensen lets go of my arm and spins around and rubs his face. Jared steps closer to me but I stop him. I don't know what my brother was thinking.

"You guys are sleeping together?" He exclaims making a face. "My little sister and best friend are having sex and a baby. How long has this been going on?"

Jared and I exchange looks. "November," I look back at Jensen who has risen is eyebrows higher than they normally go.

"Six months?!" He claims. "And you guys didn't tell me?! This hurts guys. What hurts more is I have to learn that you guys are having a baby. From a fan!"

Jensen rubs his face again. Jared pulls out his phone and looks at the both of us. "Uh, Cliff is looking for me. Wants me for mine and Misha's photo op."

"Go," Jensen and I say.

I sit on the ground and Jensen sits as well. "We aren't sure if I am pregnant or not. The tests are wonky. Kind of like Dee's were with the twins. And we meant to tell you but we got caught up in the fun of sneaking around." Jensen takes a deep breath and just stares at me. "I'm sorry Jay," I reach for his hand. "If it makes you happy or feel any better, no one else knew either."

"I can see it now," Jensen looks down at the ground and starts to pull at a piece of rug. "It was right in front of me the whole time but I was blind to it." He looks up at me. "So, will you be getting a blood test?"

I nod. "The only way to know for sure. And if I really am," I pat Jensen's hand. "You'll be a kick ass uncle."

"Damn right I will be."

By the end of the next week, Jared and I go public about our relationship and the news that by the new year the two of us will be introducing our first child into the world. A couple months later, Jared and I tie the knot in a very intimate ceremony that included just both our families and closest friends. Three days before Christmas, Jared and I welcome a little girl into the world. She is the most beautiful thing on the planet and watching my brother fall in love with her melts my heart.

By the time New Years Hit, Jared is home on break from filming. We rent out a small apartment on the outskirts of Austin. I had a few more weeks before I was cleared to go back. Jared leads me to our apartment balcony the view is absolutely breath taking. Even at night. Jared pulls me close to him and kisses me gently as fireworks were set off in the distance. "Happy New Years, Mrs. Padalecki."

#His Little Sister #SPN #spn fanfiction #spnfandom #spn final season #spnimagine #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #supernatural fic #supernatural family #fanfic #spnfanficfriday #Jared Padalecki #jared padalecki x reader #jared padalecki angst #jared padalecki fluff #jared padalecki smut #jared angst #jared smut #jared fluff #jared x reader #Jensen Ackles #Misha Collins #richard speight junior #rob benedict #alex calvert #danneel ackles

[tangled-cl0wn-core]

Where, besides Tumblr, can people find you doing fannish things? (Obviously only mention sites and usernames you actually want to be found at. Don’t expose your secret identities on my account.)

What other names have you gone by on these platforms, including Tumblr, if any?

When did you join the IT fandom? And what got you into fandom, to begin with?

What are your favorite ships, or characters, if any, and why? What do they mean to you?

In what ways do you participate in fandom? (ex. Posting memes, reblogging/commenting on content, writing fanfic, making fanart, creating fanmixes, etc.)

Do you have any in-fandom inspirations? Other members of the community that drive you? (And if you have the time/energy, in what ways do they inspire you?)

Name and link some of your favorite works, please!

Do you have any works of your own that you feel particularly proud of, or wish more people would’ve consumed? Please provide links if possible.

Have you ever participated in a fannish event (ie. IT Week, a fic Big Bang) or applied to be a part of a fanzine? If so, which ones, and can you please link them?

Without any form of bashing or lashing out, what is something you feel this fandom is missing?

 HI!! since you asked before sending it, I knew this was coming but my First Cool Guy Tumblr Ask is so neat,, anyway!!

This is my only IT-specific account, but I post almost everything I draw on my instagram, https://www.instagram.com/fabricsofteners/ (I don't know how people make links cool on tumblr aaa) I also have an AO3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangledheadphonecord , where I might post this one really long fic I’m working on (maybe not, as it’s super lame but God am I putting in work)? But mostly it’s just really old stuff atm, and no IT content right now - just some random drabbles from past hyperfixations tbh.

I used to be ‘fabricsofteners’ everywhere besides here - tangledheadphonecord is a username I used for my tumblr because I want a change from the fabricsofteners brand, as I've had it for quite a few years and have just grown kind of bored - just waiting a bit to change my instagram user. I also used to be ‘unbrandedmarkers’ like, three years ago on instagram? but, that era ended fast. I think I might have an old Tumblr under some variation of ‘fabric softener’ but honestly even if anything is up on it I’d probably be embarassed to look at it now.

I watched IT for the first time in 2019, I believe, but wasn’t really in the fandom until actually like, April of this year. I entered the fandom and developed a hyperfixation (sobs) by complete mistake - I read all the fics for michael mell/rich goranski on ao3, and was on a camping trip and wanted to read some Homosexual Fanfiction and literally remembered IT on a whim (rich-to-richie association) and read a bunch of Reddie fics, and it was all down (up?) hill from there.

Unshockingly, I’m sure, Reddie is my number one favourite IT ship. I’m also an enjoyer of Benverly, as well as Stanley/Patty - IT is like, the only fandom where I actually like the canon ships. I do also think Streddie/Stozier is really cute and Bill/Mike (unsure of the shipname?) is nice when I see it!! I think Reddis is cute because I am a total sucker for best-friends-to-lovers, as well asthe  ‘I tease everyone but mostly you’ and the ‘I’m so tired of you bullying me but if you ever stop I’ll cry’ and... just, the entire dynamic that they have. Stanley/Patty - there is no reasoning, I just want Stanley to be happy. Benverly - the way they were each other’s first Meaningful Interactions in so like?? agony, they’re so cute. They both deserve to be happy, and I’m so happy they find that happiness in each other. 

As for characters - Richie is absolutely my favourite. I (unfortunately /hj) kin and relate to him on so many levels it hurts. Having a character that feels that fear of their sexuality because of a horrible environment is painfully real. covering up struggles with humour and all that?? yeah, mood (also, crushing on your best friend-). What he means to me, in a sense, isn’t really canon - I read strictly fix-it fics, because I want to feel that hope that like fanon Richie, I don’t have to hide forever. I can be myself and be happy. Obviously I can’t much look to the movies or anything for that but hey - what’re Andy or Stephen gonna do, tell me to stop reading fics? 

I also really like Stanley!! I don’t,, have a reason. I just think he’s adorable and I love his dynamic with the other Losers a lot. Stanley breathed like, once, and instantly became a comfort character and not even I know why at this point, he just is. Eddie & Bev are up there, too - honestly, Bill is the only Loser I don’t have a strong attachment too. And honestly, he’s growing on me rapidly.

I mostly draw whatever my goblin hyperfixated brain can think of, as well as rebloging just about every post that I see and like (art, jokes, edits, fics, etc.) - I start and stop a lot of fics, maybe one day I’ll finish one but as of yet I have not... Sigh.

I honestly don’t think I do have anyone to tag for inspiration? I follow IT blogs but none I would go to for inspiration (no offense to any mutuals-) inspiration for me is mostly just seeing a pose and going ‘okay’ and suddenly I have a drawing - I have no clue what happens in between.

So, my current all-time favourite IT fic atm is https://archiveofourown.org/works/18213215/chapters/43087232, though I will say it’s a really heavy fic and to read with caution. Going away from Angst, any ‘famous Reddie’ AUs are amazing, but I constantly reread the entire https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560019 series. It’s cute and funny and I THRIVE for domestic Reddie content. 

Actually not Reddie, I throughly enjoyed https://archiveofourown.org/works/23201011 for giving me the Mike content the movies have robbed me of for too long, as well as https://archiveofourown.org/works/25262698 which is pure stanlon greatness and made my heart flutter for the boys more than once.

I don’t really have any IT fics up of my own creation, and honestly my reception in way of Tumblr notes is far better than I expected so honestly, I have none to link lol. As long as I get minimun interaction I will thrive.

I wish I could say I’ve been in anything like a zine or anything, but I have not! I’m relatively new to the fandom (and having a social media dedicated to one thing) so I wouldn’t even know where to begin to join or be qualified for one, y’know? I’ve done art weeks in the past and found them incredibly fun but haven’t seen any for IT - but if anyone does happen to know of any... Feel free to send them my way-

As for the last question - other than like, hyping up Chosen and Jeremy just as much as we do the other IT kids (which, honestly I’m not even sure if is still a problem - I’ve just seen posts about it and it’s made me wary), I’m not sure? I’ve honestly not encountered anything in the fandom I find awful and honestly, for a fandom about a movie that is... Well, IT, I’ve really just kind of enjoyed my time in the fandom thus far?

(I will say we need 200% more attention being drawn to 1990s adult Eddie Kaspbrak, who is one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen - but I also feel that way about James Ransone, so I’m not mad.)

(Also, we should be calling out the 1990s IT more, I watched it recently and it’s so bad /lh)

Anyway!! I feel like this answer was incredibly long and I am so sorry!! But like, thank you so much for asking me anything at all fihabsfhbafb I thrive at any chance to talk about the dumb clown movie. (Also, i’m sorry I say ‘honestly’ so much-)

[chaoticspacefam]

2020 In Review: Wordcount Tag

I was tagged for this by @actualanxiousswampwitch​ , thank you! I’m not sure who’s already done or been tagged for this cause I am, once again, late to the party LOL but I shall (no pressure and sorry if you’ve already done it!) tag: @rainofaugustsith​ , @darth-bagel​ , @thatmmolesbian​ , @thelastenvoyyy​ and anybody else who wants to do this. Yes, I promise I mean you!

Words: 45,314

Published: 0 (I’m not counting the couple of Six Sentence tags I’ve gotten, they’re snippets of an unfinished piece & are included below instead :), or roleplay replies, cause that feels like cheating lol.) I actually wrote a lot more than I thought I had, this is a rough guesstimate as well, as my oneshot WIPs tend to be all over the place across something like 6 different documents, some of which have existed since 2018, so I had to guess at how far up to count from the end for some of them, but I think it’s a fair guesstimate XD I also have included lore/worldbuilding docs in this because that was a 3-month long Lockdown 1.0 Boredom/”Canon is a trash fire so I’m ignoring that and making up my own lore” passion project and I’m goddamn proud of how much I wrote for that. It’s the most I’ve written in one stretch (think I finished it over a span of 3 nights or so, once I’d done all the research and made all the notes ofc ^^)

Not Published: 45,314

The Breakdown:

swtor - 45,314

for creeping shadows (my main longfic/part one of the subterfugeverse series) - 1,553  - Aria, stop being difficult! *shakes fists* XD

oneshots - 16,223

lore/worldbuilding (for subterfugeverse naturally) - 23,001 (is this ALL tomato alien lore? pretty much, yes, yes it is :’D ~400 words is “the WIP reworked timeline to correlate my worldbuilding with the canon timeline that was released”, but 98% is just...me thinking way too much about Purebloods and how they deserved way better goddamn lore. I blame @fluffynexu ‘s amazing tomato worldbuilding posts,  reading them when I went looking for “canon” lore one day for the rp is what got me started down that rabbithole (it’s awesome and if you haven’t already you should totally go check hers out too :DD), I had a “fuck you then canon I’ll do it myself too >:L” moment and once I started I couldn’t stop until I’d crapped out literally over 20k words on the subject *whispering* thank you LOL)

zephyrverse au bonus oneshots - 4,537 (stuff I wrote to fill in time gaps or “just cause I had a plot bunny”, relating to mine and k-christine’s zephyrverse au rp. None of these will likely be posted publicly, but they still deserve to be counted as words I wrote this year :’D

As you can see, most of my “muse” this year came from sporadic oneshots :’D The Ahaszaai twins also properly plot-bunnied their way into my brain in late 2019 and haven’t stopped making a nuisance of themselves the whole fucking year. Every time I tried to carry on with a chapter, one of the two of them would pop up like “Nooo write about ME! pay attention to ME!” - Yes, Ni’kasi, I will get to you this year, I promise XD

New Things I Tried:

Just Writing. Not worrying about whether “it wasn’t part of the next chapter” or “it comes from a part in the story that I’m nowhere near close to posting yet”. If I felt like writing something, or for a specific pairing/feeling/scene, whatever. I wrote until I ran outta muse juice. Yeah, it meant I didn’t technically “finish” anything this year BUT - the important thing is I wrote stuff. and that’s all that really matters, eh? :’D

Polyam ships! May not seem like a big deal but I spent a long time talking myself out of them because of internalised toxic monogamy and finally saying “you know what, fuck it! I can ship three or more people together and it can still be a perfectly wholesome, healthy and loving relationship and that’s okay” was a BIG thing for me this year.

Dialogue Scripts: which I didn’t count as wordcount because really it’s just word vomit of general tone/inflection and dialogue that I came up with right before falling asleep which I didn’t want to lose. Basically, if an exchange or a particularly punchy or moving line of dialogue popped into my brain but I wasn’t ready to write the whole scene that it fit into out, but didn’t want to forget the line(s). I wrote it out in movie script/script-style roleplay fashion e.g. Character’s Name: (emotion, hand gestures etc.) [Dialogue here] and so on. I know this is probably a well known trick of the trade, but I never took it seriously until this year. Seriously, do it. It’s great.

Favorite Thing I Wrote:

Hmmm, a snippet for Andronikos/Ni’kasi that I started this week which isn’t posted yet (saving it for this week’s Six Sentence Sunday so look out for it! :D) was pretty fun to work on, I love their dynamic and Kas is suprisingly fun to write for.

Also the Aria/Vano proposal scene that I posted a snippet for the week before last. I’m having great fun with that scene, and I really enjoy putting a non-serious spin on the classic “proposal scene” tropes. Can’t wait to finish it, though it may be a while before the full one goes up on AO3, as it depends whether it ends up fitting in as part of the mainfic or as an additional oneshot

And I have a D’leah/Kissai oneshot that I need to give another once-over before I finally yeet it onto AO3 and Tumblr for you guys to see :’D

Favorite Fic I Read:

@sleepswithvillains Eleanora/Quinn fic, Helplessly Hoping. I’m horribly behind on chapters and I gotta catch up and read the finale this week, but it’s been a helluva great ride and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the story! <3

Also The Invitation collab with @tishinada featuring Zas and Fiona had me squealing, I can’t wait to catch up on HH and see more of these two, they’re adorable ;-; @a-muirehen​ ‘s Relu/Merkara series of course! I’m a complete sucker for (friends to lovers to in Ariano’s case but yea pfpfpf) enemies to lovers ships and these two are just so good, I am on the edge of my seat every time we get a new snippet for them, ngl (grimace emoji) @darth-bagel ‘s Sylvas/Graz’zt and Sylvas/Liz/Rilfaen snippets which they’ve been spoiling me with on Discord @mercurypilgrim ‘s Ven’fir/Quinn AU oneshots, Cloudbank (Western was a particular favourite, but all are very good!) and of course @rainofaugustsith ‘s Lana/Viri updates are always fantastic, some personal favourites from this year were Almost There & Memory of Healing :3 (I totally still go back to read Commander & Advisor too sometimes, getting to see Viri be a little diabolical and messing with “MiNiSTeR LoRMaN!” was and still is my favourite thing XD)

If I’ve left you out I’m sorry!! These were the ones that stuck out in my memory, but I’ve loved everyone’s writing this year, it’s been great :3

Writing Goals:

to actually finish and post chapter 8 & 9 of Creeping Shadows. Then we’ll get to the meat and potatoes of the story and maybe Aria will stop being a brat and fighting me every time I try to stick to a semi-regular update schedule Get off my butt, finalise the name and get started on Ni’kasi’s part of the Subterfugeverse story. Maybe run the updates in-tandem with Creeping Shadows but idk if I want to wait till after CS is done before I start posting Kas’s side, or do them side-by-side yet, we’ll see ;) Keep writing! I know better than to pressure myself by setting a specific word count goal, that’s never worked well in the past

At least 2 chapters of each of the works mentioned above would be great though, more would be better! We’ll see how I go

Words of Thanks:

honestly, to everybody in the fandom I’ve met this year. Anybody that I follow, thank you for being there and engaging with me and/or posting amazing content for me to look at! I came over from deviantART where the SWTOR fandom is incredibly small and generally quite inactive and the contrast since moving over here has been incredibly uplifting. I very nearly cancelled Creeping Shadows and stopped posting fic for my SWTORverse altogether because I got next to no engagement on dA and it was very disheartening to the point where I felt I could enjoy the game and the rp partners I had, but the solo projects I’d put so much thought, time and love into already weren’t worth continuing. You guys took that spark and kept it going and I really don’t have enough words to say how grateful I am for that. Even if I haven’t published much this year, making posts on this tumblr, interacting with everyone and working on lore, plot points and so on for Subterfugeverse has kept me going through the Hellish Year of Nightmares that was 2020 <3

to the amazing new friends I’ve made in this past year, who have listened to me ramble about headcanons, character backstories, writing snippets (and rambled/sent some back), keep being awesome: @walk-ng-d-saster , @darth-bagel , @kyber-heart , @deepseacritter , @thedinalixlegacy to further friends and meme tag buddies, I get so excited every time I see a mention for a new meme or ask game in my inbox, so thank you!! : @mimabeann , @palepinkycat , @a-master-procrastinator , @raven-of-domain-kwaad , @actualanxiousswampwitch , @thatmmolesbian , @a-muirehen to my regular commentors/rebloggers/likers/askbox lurkers, I see every one of you and every time your users pop up I grin like a kid in a toy shop: @starlightjedi , @sparkles-and-rust , @wilvarin-chan , @sunsetofdoom , @ask-an-andalite , @thelastenvoyyy . @lyrishadow and more because Tumblr only goes so far back and I have the memory of Swiss Cheese. If you regularly comment, like, reblog, or anything, from me, know that I see you, and I love and appreciate you for it! <3

I couldn’t possibly remember to tag everyone and I promise if I missed you out it’s not because I hate you! Anxiety just sometimes be a bitch and I don’t wanna look like a clown calling someone a “friend” if I’m not explicitly sure we are, in fact, friends. I think you’re all awesome and I’m so glad to have moved over here and met you all <3

#long post #wordcount year review tag #elven's writing: stats #repost bc i goofed some links woops sorry everyone #^^; #will i eventually post any of this stuff? yes! #i will. i just...don't know *when* the time will be right for most of it hahaha #the only bits i won't post are the zephyrverse-specific oneshots cause i just don't feel like i want to #but everything else will (eventually) in some capacity be thrown into the void for all of you to read #shameless friend appreciation post #shameless mutual and follower appreciation post #<3 #swtor sort of

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “6 Feet”

With the scary events unfolding lately all over the world, Gotham is under lockdown also. The Joker and his girlfriend are self-quarantining at the Penthouse: needless to say entertaining him it’s no easy chore but thankfully Y/N can handle any type of situation. Probably…

Batsy

You almost drop your coffee mug when you see The Joker dangling outside the railing from the second floor of The Penthouse.

“What are you doing, J??!!!”

“Pumpkin, wanna bet I can land on the couch from here?” he flares one arm in the air.

“It’s too far off, you’ll never make it!” you mentally calculate the trajectory.

“Pfft, bullshit! If Batsy can do crap like this, so can I!”

“You don’t have the gear and training, J!”

“Gear??!! Training??!! I don’t need that; I’m not a wimp!”

“Fine, go ahead and break your neck!” Y/N gives up on the already lost cause. “How much are we betting?”

“50,000 dollars.”

“You got yourself a deal Mister Joker,” you take a sip of coffee, annoyed his desire for chaos is already surging to unspeakable heights after being trapped inside for the last 3 weeks.

The King of Gotham flexes his knees a few times for equilibrium and… here he goes: barely misses the couch, one leg gets caught on the night stand and BAM! Lands on the floor with a loud thud.

“Uugghhhh,” he groans in pain flat on his back. “Y/N… I think I fractured my limbs.”

You slowly approach and ignore his complains, pointing out the truth:

“You owe me 50,000 dollars. And if you fractured your bones, I’m going to strangle you on the spot because there is no way I’m taking care of a stubborn patient!”

The Joker makes an extra effort to react at your ultimatum:

“Excellent news, Princess. I can move my toes!”

You roll your eyes and extend one of your arms to help him up. 

“Lucky indeed, J. Are you doing this for attention?”

“Gotta keep the flame going, Pumpkin,” The Clown whizzes up a storm, trying to catch his breath following the glorious bungee jumping without a rope.

Baldy

Supposedly J is in convalescence, thus he wanted a haircut. You are both watching TV in the living room, your boyfriend sitting on a chair while you shape the locks behind him.

You start laughing at the funny movie so your hand slips: the trimmer shaves a patch of The Joker’s fabulous green hair, leaving him with a beautiful quarter sized bald spot.

Oh, shit!

He has no idea his perfect groomed style it’s butchered; better to ride this crazy train until he notices. You comb what you can from the longer strands on top of the mess you created, lying without blinking at his question:

“How did it turn out?”

“Impeccable, baby! My flair and precision regarding detail is through the roof,” you boast full of confidence.

The Heinlein Maneuver  

You’re tossing bullets at J, attempting to make them land in his mouth.

“Wow, you’re getting pretty good at this!” Y/N praises and he suddenly chokes. “Oh my God!” you panic. “Spit it out! Spit it out!”

You run behind him and start The Heinlein Maneuver which you had to learn in order to repeatedly save The Joker as a result of this being one the couple’s favorite games to play.

One, two, three… Pfuuu, there it goes: the bullet flies out of him!

The King is taking a few moments to recover whilst you impatiently want to find out what he saw this time: whenever he has these near death experiences he sees weird stuff.

“What was it this time?” you curiously inquire.

“I saw Batsy naked,” he exhales full of spite. “That asshole is totally invading my privacy!”

“Naked?” your entitled smirk makes him lose it. “Was he circumcised?”

“Excuse me??!!”

“A girl can be curious,” Y/N defends her inquiry.

“Listen here, woman! The dilemma you should be quizzing me about is if I saw his face so we can identify him!”

“Well, did you?”

“Nope.”

“Then it’s irrelevant.”

“I nearly died Princess! All I need right now is mindless fornication to aid with my rehabilitation,” the strategist in J blurs out.

“You did this to get laid?”

“Gotta keep the flame going, Pumpkin!”

6 Feet

You sneezed twice in a row and The Joker has suspiciously watched you like a hawk since.

“Do you feel sick, Pumpkin?...”

“No, it’s my allergies,” you blow your nose in a tissue and cough due to a scratchy throat.

“Are you sure?...”

“Yes, you know I get like this at spring time.”

“Hm…” J huffs. “I don’t think we should risk infection, I’m too important for this town. I say you take the south part of The Penthouse and I’ll reside in the west. Don’t come any closer, stay at least 6 feet apart just like the regulations stipulate. You can move in the room across from the master bedroom.”

“Huh?!” the baffled Y/N pretends she didn’t comprehend the words. “I have allergies, J!!! ALLERGIES!!!!”

“6 feet Pumpkin! Don’t make me repeat myself!!”  

Booty Call

You got mad and moved into the other bedroom; I guess The King wants to be safe from your allergies because that’s what you have and nothing more. Does he ever listen to reason? Nah, that would be a first.

You’re reading a book when your cell phone goes off: an invitation to chat from your man.  Across the hallway…Yup…

“Pumpkin!” his face pops on the screen. “I wanna have phone sex!!!!”

“No,” you immediately cut him off, annoyed.

“What do you mean no?! I’m about to blow a gasket over here!!!!!!!!!”

“I don’t care what happens to your gasket Mister Joker, as long as you keep it 6 feet away from me!!” and you hang up.

“How dare you, Princess?!” he shouts at your defiance. “I’ll open an account on PinchMyButt and I’ll pick another partner to tend to my overloaded system!”

“Be my guest!” you snort at his rudeness since you can actually hear him to start with.

PinchMyButt.com

One of the most popular online dating/hook up websites. Period.

The Joker uploaded his profile one hour ago and instead of being flocked with pinches like he thought, there’s no activity besides users flagging the account for “inappropriate content”. Members reckon it’s distasteful to have someone pretending to be The Clown Prince of Crime searching for a match; they have no clue it’s genuine.

Another hour passes by… zero pinches.

J is getting pissed.

30 more minutes… Ding! The app announces.

“Ha!” he triumphantly yells. “Somebody pinched my butt, Pumpkin! Oh, she said I have nice nipples and a cute bald spot! I don’t have a bald spot! Who is this?!” he investigates the blog name: iHaveAllergies69.

Rings a bell: you kept on telling him this plus his girl preferred sex position…

“Pumpkin, is that you?!” The Joker shrieks.

“Yeah!” you admit from the other bedroom. “I felt sorry for you!”

“I don’t want your pity! Unpinch me! Wait, my account just got suspended: due to a large number of objections, you’re account has been terminated. What the hell?! What am I supposed to do now, Princess?“

“Dunno, you’re the one that wanted us to be apart and it’s an excellent rule! I’m enjoying my isolation; you should do the same.”

“How can you enjoy confinement?”

“I’m having fun!”

“Without me?! Impossible! I put the fun in dysfunctional!”

Boinky

The elevator’s doors slide and Frost strolls inside carrying a box.

“Not a step further!” J mumbles taking the safely off his pistol.

He misses threatening people thus when the guys bring food and supplies to The Penthouse he tries to shoot them.

“What’s in there?” he gestures towards the cardboard container.

“Not sure, sir. Y/N ordered it online.”

“Open it!” the stern order leaves no room for hesitation.

Jonny rips the scotch tape and removes the pink, fluffy toy.

“What the heck is this?!” The Joker frowns at its shape.

Frost analyzes the plush item and it clicks.

“Boss, I think it’s a…”

“PUMPKIN!!!!” The Clown interrupts.  “Why does this atrocity resemble my crown jewelry???!!” he screams you as you show up in the living room.

A super excited squeal:

“Boinky arrived!!!” and Y/N rushes to get her package. “Toss it! Toss it!!” you wave your arms and Jonny does as required. “I need something to cuddle with since you kicked me to the curve,” you finally address him.

“And you couldn’t find a teddy bear?!”

Flame

The Joker barges in your bedroom while spraying around with disinfectant mist:

“Pumpkin, this is the biggest emergency Gotham has ever faced!!!!” he frantically takes his clothes off and you jump because you just fell asleep 5 minutes ago.

“What is it?” you snuggle with your fuzzy trinket.

“Goddamn Boinky!” your boyfriend snatches the toy and flings it out the opened window.

“What are you doing?!”

“I’m about to explode, woman! That’s what!!! My online dating was abruptly halted by unforeseen factors so I have no choice,” he viciously starts yanking at you tank top. “I either risk contamination or I blow a gasket and that means kaput!”

“I have allergies,” you frown and J tugs at your shorts in a hurry, irritated.

“Exposing myself like this!” he continues bickering and Y/N can’t help it:

“Just like Batsy did?”

The King gasps, appalled you twisted his near death experience vision in such a hasty manner.

“Unacceptable!” he pulls you under him and your eerie grin prompts doubt: “Hold on! Did you purchase Boinky to intrigue me and made sure I can’t blow my gasket anywhere else with the sole purpose of having me crawl back to you?!”

Y/N innocently kisses the tip of his nose, whispering:

“Gotta keep the flame going, baby.”

 Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Wattpad and Ao3 under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #the joker x reader #the joker #the joker jared leto #the joker suicide squad #joker #joker fanfiction #joker imagines #jokerleto #joker suicide squad #mister j #Mistah J #mister joker #dc #dcu

[thestarsaroundyourscars]

25 and 26 for reddie!! Only if you want to💗

Hollyyy!!💗 This is such an old prompt, I’m sorry! Have some ‘fuck- canon’ fluff (again).

“Come cuddle.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Read on AO3

Eddie woke up in the middle of the night to an empty bed. 

While half asleep, he’d thrown his arm over the right side of the mattress, expecting to find a warm, lanky body that he could cuddle up against but instead, he got an armful of nothing. Eddie frowned and with his eyes still closed, trying to hold on to sleep for as long as he could, he felt around the bed for Richie but he wasn’t there. The man was all long legs and arms and the Town House bed wasn’t exactly big⎯ if he was there, Eddie’s hand would’ve found him already.

His first thought was that It was back. It was back and he’d taken Richie, taking advantage of the fact that they let their guard down after thinking they had killed him, for real this time. The thought made Eddie’s breathing speed up but he forced himself to take three deep breaths and calm down before he could drive himself into a panic attack.

“Rich?” He muttered, blinking his eyes open. The room was dark but the moonlight filtered in through the window, which was weird because Eddie remembered closing the curtains before crawling under the covers. With Richie. Which begged the question⎯

Where did the asshole go?

The answer to that question came soon enough when Eddie rolled over and saw that, not only were the curtains drawn back, but the window was also open and Richie was sitting on the window sill, smoking?

“What the fuck are you doing Richie? It’s the middle of the night.” Eddie said, pushing himself up into a sitting position. Richie jumped, almost dropping his cigarette in surprise. “And are you seriously smoking? These places have smoke detectors you know that, right?”

“Not this shithole Eds. Come on. They don’t even have hot water.” Richie scoffed, blowing out smoke. “Did I wake you?”

“No.” Eddie said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Well yeah. I woke up when I realized you weren’t in bed.”

“Aww Eds you missed me?” Richie teased but his voice was slightly off. “One night and you already can’t sleep without me?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at Richie, missing pathetically. “Shut up. Why are you awake?”

Richie tensed up then, looking out the window and taking a long drag of his cigarette before talking through his teeth, “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Bullshit.” Eddie said. “You were asleep. I know, because your snoring kept me up for like an hour.”

Richie scoffed, bringing the cigarette to his mouth. “Now that’s some fucking bullshit. Eds, I don’t snore.” 

“Yes, you do. You have since we were kids.” Eddie said in his no bullshit tone. “But that’s not the point.“ He said, recognizing Richie’s attempt to change the subject. "Why are you smoking in the middle of the night?”

Richie didn’t meet Eddie’s eyes, staring out the window instead. 

"Rich?” He asked, voice softer and more gentle. “Talk to me.”

Richie heaved out a sigh. He put out the cigarette and leaned back against the window, facing Eddie. “I had a nightmare.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Pennywise?” Richie made a noncommittal sound that Eddie took as a yes. “Pennywise is dead, Rich. We killed him. For real this time.”

“I know he is. The nightmare wasn’t about him, not really.“ 

Eddie pressed his lips into a tight line, hit by realization. He didn’t need to ask to know what Richie’s nightmare had really been about.

(After escaping Neibolt, the losers had all gone to the quarry to clean up, even if Eddie insisted it was useless because, “You can’t clean yourself in dirty water.” He joined them anyway and everyone had been celebrating, laughing and splashing around, when Eddie noticed Richie was sitting on a rock by himself with a troubled look. Eddie had swam over to him, throwing water at his face and said, “Didn’t you hear Rich? We killed the fucking clown.”

When Richie had looked up, his eyes were shining with unshed tears and Eddie’s laughter had died in his throat. 

"I saw you die Eds.” Richie had said, ducking his head to stare at his hands. They were clean, but he looked at them  as if they were stained with something and Eddie reached over and held them. “When I was in the deadlights. I saw Pennywise kill you right in front of me.”

Eddie had shaken his head, giving his hands a squeeze. “That wasn’t real. I’m right here.”

“I thought I lost you.” He insisted, eyebrows pulled together. “I thought you died and that I never got the chance to⎯ to tell you, to⎯”

“To what?" 

Richie had surged forward then, catching Eddie’s lips in a kiss. Over the sound of his own heart threatening to beat out of his chest, Eddie heard their friends whistling and catcalling. He let go of Richie’s hands to flip them off, before weaving his fingers in Richie’s hair and pulling him closer so he could kiss him back. 

Later, they had ditched the losers to go to Richie’s room together⎯ amidst more whistling and catcalling. And after Richie took a shower and Eddie took three, they had stumbled into bed together for the first time. Both of them forgetting what Richie saw in the deadlights, until now.)

"It’s not real.” Eddie said, echoing his own words from the day before. “That was just Pennywise fucking with you, Richie.”

“I know that Eds, but everytime I close my eyes, I see it. I see Pennywise stabbing you, I see you bleeding all over me. I see you dying and I see myself leaving you in that fucking place.” He said, running a hand down his face.

Eddie’s face twisted with concern, feeling sad for Richie. He wanted to offer comfort, to reassure him, but words didn’t seem to be doing it. He untangled himself from the mess of blankets and dragged himself out of bed. The cold air hit Eddie’s bare legs and he shivered⎯ boxers and Richie’s shirt had been enough to keep him warm when the window was closed and he had Richie wrapped around him like a koala, but now they made him wish he didn’t the bed.

He quickly covered the distance between the bed and the window, wrapping his arms around Richie’s waist. Unlike Eddie, Richie was warm, even if he was wearing only a pair of boxers and had been standing next to the open window for a while. Eddie burrowed his face in his chest, still not quite believing he was allowed to do that now.

“Are you trying to distract me?” Richie clicked his tongue, sounding more like himself. Eddie counted that as a win. “Because it’s working.” He felt Richie’s arms wrap around him.

Eddie let out a snort. “I’m trying to convince you that I’m here and that I’m alive and that I'm⎯”

“Ready for round two?" 

Eddie pinched his side, eliciting an embarrassing squeal from Richie. "I’m serious Rich.” He looked up, locking eyes with him. “I’m here and if you need me to keep reminding you that, I fucking will because I’m not going anywhere, you’re stuck with me now." 

"That was aggressively romantic.” Richie said, smiling down at him, it was slightly shaky but happy. 

Eddie returned the smile before leaning up and pressing a kiss against Richie’s lips, feeling his stomach flutter the moment their lips touched. Richie made a pleased sound before licking into Eddie’s mouth, warmth spreading through him when Richie’s tongue started moving against his. 

They had been kissing for a while when a yawn escaped Eddie and he froze, Richie’s face breaking into a teasing grin. 

"Don’t say anything, shut up.” Eddie said, feeling his face go hot. “This is your fault.”

Richie scoffed. “Am I really that boring, Eds?" 

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Of course not. I’m just tired since you woke me up.”

“Right sorry.” Richie said, running his thumb softly over Eddie’s cheek. “You should go back to sleep. I’ll be there in a few minutes." 

"What? You’re gonna go rub one off in the bathroom?” Eddie joked, making Richie laugh. 

“You caught me, Eds.” He flashed him a lewd grin. “That kiss got me all hot and bothered." 

Eddie snorted, grabbing Richie’s hand. "Come on.” He started dragging him towards the bed, but Richie planted himself on the floor. Eddie cocked his head at him, giving him a questioning look.

“I don’t think I can go back to sleep just yet.” Richie said, avoiding Eddie’s eyes.

Everytime I close my eyes, I see it. 

Oh, right. 

“Are you worried about having another nightmare?” Eddie asked, taking Richie’s grimace as an answer. “I won’t let that happen.”

“What? You’re gonna fight the nightmares away with your tiny fists?”

“No.” Eddie said, rolling his eyes. “I’m gonna hold you so hard that you won’t be able to forget I’m alive.” He said, watching Richie’s expression melt at his words. “Now close the window and come cuddle with me. It’s the middle of the fucking night and I’m tired.”

“Okay.” Richie said, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s forehead and letting go of him just to shut the window. “As long as I get to be the little spoon.”

“Duh." 

They climbed into bed together, Eddie’s chest pressed flush against Richie’s back. Eddie wrapped his arms around him and Richie sighed happily when he pressed a kiss to the top of his spine.

Eddie forced himself to stay awake until he was certain that Richie was asleep⎯ his loud snoring making it perfectly clear. Only then, did he allow himself to close his eyes, dozing off immediately. 

Neither of them woke up again, not until the sunlight filled the room the next morning.

Tag list: @daddyphantomtbh​​ @yes-dillman-yes @richietoaster ​ @beepbeeprichiellc ​ @its-stranger-than-you-think ​ @lemonaayyee ​ @losers-gotta-stick-together ​ @tinyarmedtrex ​ @richiefuckfacetozier ​ @sam-i-am2468 ​ @richardtoz ​ @s-s-georgie ​ @reddie-for-anything ​ @eddiefuckinkaspbrak ​ @constantreaderfool ​ @stanleuyris ​ @jesuschristsupruvestar ​ @mirandonsky ​ @proton-disaster-blaster ​ @alargedepresso ​ @purplepoisonedgem ​ @pan-ini ​ @reddie-to-cry​ @reddieforlove ​ @trashmouthnick ​ @multi-fandom-wby ​ @wheezyeds ​ @nancynwheeler ​ @reddieslashgeneralhorror​​ @madi-personal ​ @reddie-tozibrak​​ @lover-mouth ​ @atownofeggs ​ @that-weird-girls-blog ​ @appojoos ​ @castielwinovak ​ @a-gay-treee​ @twoidiotsinl0ve ​ @typewrxter ​ @fcngirltrxsh​ @spirited-marvel ​ (if you want to be added, let me know!)

#reddie #post it chapter two #eddie comforting richie #eddie lives #of course #fluff #monse writes #constantreaderfool

[isaidyoulookshitty]

i really don’t understand the vitriol towards fanfiction writers on this fucking website??? like it’s just a fun hobby. i have never ever fucking met a fic writer who thinks their writing is like professional grade or whatever the way some of y’all claim and make fun of them for. most are actually extremely self conscious about it. they’re just doing something because it’s fun. it’s a hobby.

like...... i hate the stupid “let people enjoy things” meme that gets thrown around because i’m a firm believer in being critical of any and all media you consume and that people should be held responsible for what they create, but can you just. shut the fuck up with your weird hate boner towards people having fun writing little stories for things they’re into. it’s literally not that deep.

considering a lot of fanfic writers are neurodivergent, myself included, it’s honestly just fucking mean. you’re being fucking mean about a harmless hobby that someone else just uses to pass the time or express themselves creatively. and don’t get me wrong, i personally don’t feel like i have to defend myself to anyone, but it does get kind of old lol. there’s no difference between what you’re doing now and what the bullies you went to school with did to the horse girls or the kids who liked anime. anyone who wasn’t really ashamed of the things they were interested in. y’all like to scream about how cringe culture is dead but god forbid someone mention the word fanfiction, then you’re all up in arms about how it’s not “real writing” or that you can’t believe anyone would ever take it seriously

and no, i am absolutely not talking about the weird, skeevy kind of inappropriate shit you see in a lot of fan communities. that is in NO WAY limited to fanfiction. truthfully you’ll find people trying to justify their trash opinions and gross fetishes in all kinds of places, not just ao3 or whatever.

i’m not going to sit here and champion the idea that fanfic is an art form and it’s super deep or what the fuck ever, but i don’t really see anyone saying the same tired, hashed out shit about fan artists, or cosplayers, or handcrafts, or any other type of self expression people use to celebrate the works of art they’re passionate about. if it’s not for you then just. move on. don’t read it. the shitty part though is that i know some of the people saying this kind of stuff DO read fanfic!!!! how fucked is that lol. sorry, but you don’t get to shit on these people for writing fic and then turn around and benefit from what amounts to free entertainment from hours of work they’ve put into the thing they love. that’s some real clown shit

it really takes no fucking effort on your part to not be an asshole but surprise of all surprises y’all still find the time and the energy to do it. damn. hope all of you get well soon

#fanfiction

[respectablesentiment]

Yo Libby I hope u find your glasses, I know the feeling (I lost them under my desk for 2 whole days like last week). All the fics on your rec list are great, trust me it seems like all I do lately is read tlou fica and sometimes attempt to do homework. Also made me realise there’s not enough stuff out there that explores the dynamics of Ellie Abby and Dina when they don’t want to just murder one another, a true shame. Have a nice day! - daaaaaash

My friend, hi!! I have not yet found my glasses but I have found... a headache. I am a disaster and my day is very reflective of that atm lol 

Also glad to hear my rec list is good, it took me forever to write it cause there’s just so much I’ve been meaning to get to (and I’m so disorganised so some are ‘marked for later’ on ao3, some are open on my laptop, some are open on my pc, some are open on my phone, and i’m a big clown). 

But the ones I haven’t gotten to yet all look really good so I’m recommending them anyway cause people should read them if they haven’t and support the authors who are putting a lot of time and energy into creating such beautiful works!!

Also yeah, I’m a huuuge fan of the Ellie, Abby and Dina dynamics. Like I’m well aware that I just had a confrontation between Abby and Dina in my fic, but also like... Abby is a dickhead but she has a character arc throughout the story and won’t always be as big of a dickhead... I’m so fucking ready for like peak vibes of the Jackson kids just hanging out and being friends. Like I say the group scenes are hot because they’re a lot to balance without accidentally making one person silent for an entire time and have it be weird, but they’re some of my favourite bits :)

(i’m not willing to discuss how long i fought with myself about potentially making the fic ellie/dina/abby. i 100% side with Cat that Abby/Dina could get their frustration out in interesting ways. imagine what a fucking swerve it would be if the fic ended up abby/dina and ellie/cat lmao - it won’t, but imagine~)

#maybe they are just my favourite because the group scenes is where I get to have Cat and Abby but who knows #i meant it when I said I kinda want to write a companion fic from Abby's perspective #she is so dumb #the most attractive thumb-thumb I ever did see #hope you're having a good day!! #ask #a nice friend #:) #daaaaaaaaaaash

[under-the-blue-sun]

i know myself

summary: Dan huffed. "Look, Lester, I know what you're doing. You're taking pity on me and you're trying to help. It's nice. I get it. But I know myself, and I don't need your advice."

word count: 1571

rating: teen & up 

warnings: slurs (p*nce), blood, bullying, fight

note: i just needed some cliche fluff to write to kill the time. i apologise for the mess you're about to read. slightly inspired by cavetown's song, advice. give it a listen if you haven't already! enjoy :)

read on ao3

"Hey, ponce!"

Blurry faces surrounded the boy before Phil even had time to think. A small, pale face peeked out behind their muscular thighs, his curly hair stained with blood and sweat. An orange football boot shoved it down, covering his face in even more dirt and blood. The biggest one slammed a bright red lunch tray hit him even harder.

"See you after school." the scrawny one sniggered, before they stalked away.

It made Phil sick. Sick at them for doing that to him, sick at himself for watching them do that and not doing anything, sick at the world for allowing people to do that to other people.

"Hey." Phil said, before he could stop himself. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." the boy huffed, brushing the sandwich crumbs off his pants and the blood off his face.

"Are you new? Haven't seen you around." Phil said.

The boy picked up his tray and bottle.

"And you won't anymore." he said, and walked away before Phil could say anything else.

Phil stole a glance at the label on his drink bottle. Dan Howell.

It was at that moment when Phil decided he had found himself a new friend.

---

He saw Dan Howell again in the same spot outside the library with his lunch all over the floor.

"Did they shove you to the floor again?" Phil asked.

"No." Dan said. "I dropped my tray."

Phil nodded, even though he knew Dan was lying. "Okay."

Phil helped him clean it all up, and grabbed his drink bottle.

"How did you get all that blood on your face? From walking into a pole?" Phil said, as he handed the bottle to Dan.

Dan grabbed it quickly. "Yeah. Something like that."

Phil watched as Dan walked away, empty tray and bottle in hand.

"Hey, Howell!" Phil called out. "Got anyone to sit with?"

Dan didn't turn back.

---

Phil waited for a week before he talked to Dan again.

Phil smiled as he slammed his pile of books next to Dan. "Fancy seeing you here again."

Dan rolled his eyes and turned to look at Phil. "You again."

"I have a name, you know." Phil said, sticking out his hand. "Phil Lester."

Dan glanced at the hand before turning to his studying. Phil sighed and put his hand down.

"What are you studying?" Phil asked.

Dan huffed. "English. Look, Lester, I know what you're doing. You're taking pity on me and you're trying to help. It's nice. I get it. But I know myself, and I don't need your advice."

Phil nodded. "Alright."

Phil watched as Dan turned to study.

"Go away, Lester." Dan said, not turning.

"I actually need to study, though." Phil said, gesturing to his pile of textbooks.

Dan looked at him.

"What?" Phil said, grabbing his nearest textbook. "I also really need to study English."

Dan raised his eyebrow. "That's an Japanese textbook."

"Thank you for telling me." Phil said solemnly. "I have a lot of catching up to do."

---

"Got any new friends, Phil?"

Phil sighed. "I guess so. I don't think he really wants to be my friend, though."

"It's good you're trying." Mum said. "I know how sad you were after PJ and Martyn left. What's his name?"

"Dan. Dan Howell." Phil replied.

"That's a nice name." Mum beamed.

Phil shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

Mum collapsed on the chair. "I give up on cooking. What pizza are we ordering this time?"

---

"Why do you wanna be my friend so bad?" Dan suddenly asked.

Phil bit his pencil. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Before you found out I cam here, you didn't step a foot in the library. Then, for two weeks in a row, you sit right here, right next to me, and you try to feed me food."

Phil shrugged. "I'm just trying to study here. Mint?"

Dan huffed. "Drop the act, Lester. What do you want from me?"

"Nothing!" Phil protested.

"I've been to three high schools. I know human teenagers don't try to get close to someone unless they have something to gain from it." Dan spat. "What do you want?"

Phil sighed. "I see those jerks bully you every day and it bugs me. What I want is for no one to go through that. No one deserves to be treated like a piece of meat, Howell. Even you."

"Lay off of me." Dan seethed. "You are not my mum."

"I don't need to be your mum to care about other people's wellbeing, Howell." Phil said.

"You're not my friend, either, Lester." Dan said, picking his textbook up. "So go the hell away."

"How about have a question from me, Howell? Why do you wanna not be my friend so bad? Am I doing something wrong? Or do you just not like me?"

Dan slammed the book on the desk. "You don't know shit about me. Shut the hell up and leave before I make you."

"Okay." Phil said. "See you around."

"No, you won't." Dan said.

Phil sighed and nodded, grabbing his books and heading home to his mum's terrible cooking.

---

"Good news, Phil." PJ said, over FaceTime. "I'm heading home for a bit."

"Really?" Phil said, grinning.

"Yeah." PJ smiled. "I can only chill on Sunday night, though. I already promised my parents for Saturday lunch and dinner. You know how they are."

"It's fine. There's the pop-up fair this weekend. Let's go to that." Phil suggested.

"Cool. Maybe I can meet your friend Dan?" PJ said.

Phil's smile immediately dropped. "No, he's busy."

PJ, sensing Phil's discomfort, nodded and changed topic immediately, and they talked for half an hour about narwhals before PJ had to hang up and Phil felt empty again.

---

"PJ!" Phil exclaimed.

PJ wrapped Phil in a tight hug. "Long time no see, Philly."

"So, how's university for you, Peej?" Phil asked, smirking. "Or should I say Doctor Peej?"

PJ rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up. Haven't got my degree yet."

"Yet." Phil emphasized. "After you get it, I'm so calling you Doctor Peej."

The fair wasn't the classic American fair from high school teen movies, but it was good enough for England. As PJ said, England manages to make everything slightly drab, but their effort is cute.

"How are you so shit at literally the easiest game here?" PJ asked, shouting to be hard over the roar of the crowd.

"Shh, I'm trying my best." Phil shouted out, as he hit the exact middle between the two clowns which bounced off and hit him in the nose. "Ow!"

PJ sniggered. "This game's a bit too dangerous for you, Phil. Come on, let's go do something else."

Phil chuckled as stepped out of queue to let the 6-year-old behind him take the gun. PJ looked to the side and shook his head.

"And it wouldn't be a fair without the nerd being bullied by the jocks." PJ said, clicking his tongue.

Phil turned to see where PJ was looking at and froze. "That's Dan."

PJ's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Definitely." Phil replied.

"Are you sure?" PJ asked.

Phil nodded. "I'm certain."

After the tallest one took his last punch, the biggest one held him up by the neck and strangled him against the wall.

"Jesus Christ." PJ said.

"Come on, we have to help him." Phil said, running over to the site of the broken ferris wheel.

"Let him go, assholes." PJ yelled.

"Oh look, your boyfriends are here." the biggest one mocked.

"Oh, get a life, Smithson. Do you really have nothing better to do on a Sunday night?" Phil said, helping Dan up. "Bit sad, really. You'd almost think you guys are his boyfriends, with you wasting your nights over an obsession with a boy. Come on, Dan."

Phil lent a hand to help Dan up, but was pushed to the ground before Dan could get up. He brought his hand to his face, and realised that his nose was bleeding all over his shirt and denim jacket. He stumbled backwards, surprised, into the path of a police officer.

"Excuse me?" the officer said. "What do you think-"

She looked at the blood on his face, then at Smithson and the rest, who was already laughing and sprinting into the distance. She glanced at Dan and Phil, both covered in blood and bleeding all over the floor.

"Sorry, boys." she said, before she continued patrolling the area.

PJ sighed as he helped Dan and Phil up. "Are you two okay?"

"I'm okay, just bleeding a lot." Phil said, wiping the blood from his mouth. "Dan?"

Dan sighed as he felt around his neck. "I thought I told you to stop talking to me."

Phil looked down. "Sorry."

Dan shook his head. "I'm not mad."

"You're not?"

"No." He gave a small smile to Phil. "Thanks for helping me. Sorry for being such an asshole."

"It's okay." Phil said. "How about we spend the rest of the time here going on every ride and seeing which one makes us the sickest."

Dan grinned. "Sounds like a deal."

PJ smirked as he watched Dan flush as he held Phil's hand for a second longer than he should have.

"Maybe they were right about the boyfriend thing." PJ said aside to Phil.

Phil went red. "What?"

"I'm just saying." PJ said.

He had a feeling he was going to be hearing a lot more of this Dan Howell.

#phan #dan and phil #daniel howell #dan howell #danisnotonfire #amazingphil #phil lester #philip lester #phandom #phannie #phanfiction #phanfics #emilee.writings.exe #phan oneshot #songfic #cavetown #advice #fanfiction #fanfics #phan fanfiction #dan and phil fanfiction #em's oneshots #em's fluff #tw blood #tw slurs #tw bullying #tw fighting

[nightwingshero]

Unwanted

Okay guys, so I’ve been working on two different stories for FC5: one that follows the game and the other is a burlesque/mafia au that I couldn’t get out of my head. This is the first piece of work I’ve posted for Wren and John, and its for the burlesque au. I’m going to be posting my work on AO3 soon, but I got really excited about this and wanted to share it! Trigger warning for some alcohol use and dark thoughts, so read at your own risk!

Her green, venomous eyes were taunting. She sneered at everything that came across her withering gaze, her hips swaying with a little extra effort to gain the attention from those around her. It was in vain, of course, with Rowan’s performance still in full swing. But that didn’t stop this woman from holding her head high as she looked down her nose to our dancers. We’ve had people in here before from the first class. Most of the time, they were pleasant, friends of Whitney or John. Some just stopping through to check out the club they’ve heard so much about, but that southern charm had never failed. Until now.

She flipped her platinum blonde hair, the curls catching the little light that created the ambiance. Her short emerald dress hugged her curves, showcasing her breasts perfectly. I was almost impressed. I shifted a bit, fidgeting with the material of the outfit I wore for my last performance. I was talking to John before he had ducked outside to take a call from a client. I stood there, waiting for his return, but as her gaze narrowed on me, I knew I was in for it.

“Where’s John?” she asked in a clipped voice. I would have thought her beautiful, if her personality had matched. I frowned at her.

“I’m sorry, he’s not available. May I ask who’s asking?” I asked in curiosity. John had people come in here and there, asking for his time. This wasn’t new. He would brush them off, telling us to make sure to ask who they were and why they wanted to see him. He was so allusive here, insistent that his business hours were always clearly communicated. If those expectations weren’t met, then too bad. He took his schedule seriously.

She sneered at me, her glossy lips shimmering with her teeth. “I’m his fiancée. Now, go tell him that I’m here.” My brows shot up in surprise as my heart stopped. Fiancée? He had never mentioned…

“I didn’t realize he was engaged.” I replied quietly, hoping to keep the disappointment hidden. I felt deflated, as if someone had poked a hole in me. I wanted to stay neutral, not give away how my heart sank to the pit of my stomach at the thought of it. But she smirked, her green eyes twinkling.

“Well, he is.” She let out a little laugh. “Its cute, you know? This little crush you have.”

“I don’t—”

“Oh please.” She snapped. “It’s so obvious. He probably already knows. You wear it on your sleeve. It’s disgusting and pathetic.” She clicked her tongue as she gave her a look of pity. “Let me guess, you’re some country girl from the middle of nowhere who is trying to make it in the big city. Am I right?” I don’t answer. I’m raging, the blatant rudeness wiggling under my skin. But I can’t seem to defend myself. My tongue feels heavy and the tears are coming. It only fuels her, knowing she is so close to making me collapse into myself like a house of cards.

“Oh honey, did you really think he would go for that? Some little girl playing dress up when she belongs back on the farm? You’re way out of your league.” She steps closer, placing a hand on my shoulder as she squeezes with a false sense of reassurance. As if we were in this together, the two of us against the world. “Honestly, I’m doing you a favor. Saving you from the humiliation of rejection. John has standards, a particular taste darling. And this? This isn’t you. It’s not fitting in the slightest. Whore isn’t exactly on John’s radar. He prefers women of class, love. You’re beneath him. It’s time for you to understand that you’ll never be good enough for him.” She smiles again, before rubbing her hand on my cheek. Then with a slight smack against my skin, she’s gone, and my eyes are catching Whitney’s shocked ones.

The room spins as I lean against a chair for support as Whitney tries to call for me. Fight or flight is strong in my veins, roaring in my ears as my stomach twists and twists, creating something I don’t recognize within me. Reforming, as I stumble to the back, desperate for something I can cling to, something real I can put inside myself to make me real. I’m a ghost of something as I gather my things to leave. The breath in me is gone, forcing me to choke on the stale cigarette smoke Adelaide is supplying. I’m almost in a trance, and yet I feel some sort of clarity. The fantasy broken like a magic mirror, and suddenly I am seeing my true self in the broken pieces lying before me. I barely register Faith’s words, but I’m sure she’s asking if I’m alright. I smile, say yes, pretend that I’m still the same person on that stage. She’s not convinced and so I tell her I’m going home. My sleeve must be dirty from everything that shows there.

I leave quickly, feeling like a fool. Perhaps I should laugh, like most clowns do, pulling all those emotions out of my sleeve like a colorful handkerchief chain. That would require a voice, something I was lacking. A mime would be more fitting. My body the tool, invisible and locked inside a box I created for myself as I tried to put on a display. A vision no one had wanted, the piece of art that sat in the back unwanted. I forced a sob down as I entered my car, fumbling for the keys.

I wish I could say that I remembered getting to my apartment. Out of character for small town Wren, sweet little Wren. The box was closing in, my chest threatening to implode. I let go, the tears and sobs forcing my body curl into itself on my bed. The little moments were a mirage, something my naïve brain believed to be something more. How many times had he been there to protect me? His bullet wound had only just healed. How many times had he saved me? The disaster of a date with Detective Pratt merely weeks ago. I could still taste the fear on my tongue as Pratt plied me with glass after glass of wine. The gentleness in which John had handled me, almost caring. Like I was the most fragile thing in his world.

I scream them into my pillow, the broken pieces of my heart. Pieces of my soul shattering like the illusion of him, the illusion of what I thought we could have become. I breathe in deeply and that’s when I feel the shift, the steel resolve of my psyche overcoming me. It’s the numbness I notice first, turning my sobs into nothing. I rise, making my way to the kitchen like a vengeful spirit that is the one being haunted. The vase is crystal, a gift from Adelaide for the new place, but it’s the flowers I want. He had them sent to me, celebrating our big show only a few nights prior. I laughed to myself, remembering the rush I had felt. For the first time, I had felt high. Elated.

I swayed, humming to myself a bit as I made my way to the bathroom. Turning the chrome handle, I began to run the hot water, desperate to feel the burn against my skin to help me rid myself of her touch. To purge the gaze that had taken me in with such disdain, as if I was a stain upon this earth. Her tainting touch scorched my skin, leaving an invisible mark that only I could see. That I could feel. And with that, I ripped the soft petals from the stems, allowing them to sprinkle down into the water. They dance across the surface, a secret waltz that only they knew.

One by one, I light candle after candle, a dark ritual that was only just beginning. My hair is twisting up and up, piling elegantly on top of my head, and then I’m dipping into the water. The warm, baptizing water welcoming me, loving me as it takes me as I am. Scars and all, it holds me securely in it’s embrace. I could almost hear the shushing of its calming voice, almost feel the comforting fingers of my mother as she played with my hair. The ghost of her was almost enough, pushing me back to a time where I didn’t have to feel the weight of loss or rejection.

And suddenly, her ghost is gone. Blue eyes have taken over haunting me, her fingers replaced by his tattooed ones. He plays me like a harp, pulling my tight strings just so he could hear me sing, watch as I move with a simple flick. The hypnosis of his ocean eyes is deep and tempting, calling for my drowning. They wish to claim my last breath, the very last bit of my being. And I’m rising from the water, panic clawing my throat because I can feel the pull, feel his gaze as I felt hers. I fight off the tears that demand to be seen, that want the show they so rightfully deserve. It was only fair, my heart screams, but I laugh at it. Life is never fair.

I stand naked in the mirror, but I see her standing next to me. The blue bloods that own this city, the embodiment of the perfect Georgia peach. A woman I could see John taking by the waist with pride. Her red lips and dark lashes, the long neck and golden blonde hair on display for all to see. My body not nearly as lean or as striking. I imagined her in her castle as a child, the beautiful princess of Atlanta, ruling her kingdom with her head held high. My childhood filled with softball tournaments and the old beaten up acoustic guitar that slept in the corner, while she attended operas and orchestra concerts. A culture I had never dreamed of, a social circle that could never be touched by the likes of me.  

I dry my skin, the feeling of being paper thin is overwhelming. I laugh to myself, because I know what comes next. I know what I’m about to do. It’s silly, childish, and yet I glide to my dresser. Slowly, I pull out my favorite number, something I had always imagined wearing for him. Not on stage, no. This was something for him and him alone. I put on the bra, the black lace striking against my skin and suddenly I’m untouchable. Slipping on the lacey underwear to match, I turn to my closet, desperate for the last pieces. The silk ebony robe sending shivers down my spine as it caresses me, and it’s as if I’m being held in my lover’s arms. The heels are last, simple and elegant. Tall and black, two thin straps leaving my feet bare, the same shoes I had worn to my father’s funeral. I felt like death herself, all powerful and ready to take whatever she wanted. Provocative and demanding, a queen among men.

My hair is released, falling like a waterfall down my back. It felt good to pretend, to believe in this moment that I was like her, that I wasn’t me. That I was a woman that was cherished and wanted, an envy-worthy being. I reason with myself; I know I’ve gone mad. I had fallen off the deep end and taken flight, and it had never felt better. The feeling addicting, the need for more growing and growing. The heels clicked against the wood floor, fueling me. The righteousness they sang, the vengeance they demanded, it became a soothing lullaby.

The kitchen is dark, only the light above the stove and sink burned with life. I reached for the most expensive red wine I had, pouring a glass with a smile of satisfaction. The blood red liquid was all consuming, drawing me closer. The dark, bitter taste becoming my sanctuary, but I wasn’t done. No, far from it. And as I sat down at my small vanity back in the bathroom, I choke yet again on a sob, and force out a laugh instead. I had a plan, a traitorous plan against the tears that begged for the freedom they longed for. I knew how to trick the emotions into becoming wisps of smoke on the inside of my porcelain glass exterior. I had never been an artist, but I paint. The burgundy against my lips, the black liquid liner creating sharp edges that would dare touch without permission. The brush then creates a frame for the windows of my soul, residing in the blue green irises staring back at me. They’re heavy, sad even, but the mascara does its job and I finish with a flourish.

I’m suddenly beautiful, a perfect doll someone would love to have, to play with, and have on their arm. I wonder briefly which arm he would use to put around my own waist, and suddenly my vision swims. I scoff as I hold my head high and take a sip in victory, toasting myself for outsmarting the betrayal of my heart that suddenly matched the blue of his eyes. I was so strong, I told myself. I was better. But as I held the glass gently, it became comforting to me, whispering sweet nothings and promising me a numbness that kept me safe and sound. I knew I was lying to myself. I was far from better.

A sound pulls me from the calling, and I set the glass down as I rose. The noise led me to my bedroom window, finding a cat messing with some metal trashcans as it scavenged for its next meal. Then I hear the soft clicking of my front door, and I scoff while squeezing my eyes shut momentarily. I should have known. Rowan was the only other one with a key, and I could almost bet that Faith had sent her my way. The wine’s singing int the next room, creating an atrocity of noise in my head. Perhaps just one glass, just to get the noise to go away. To make everything quiet.

Rowan would wait patiently in the living room; she respected my privacy. She wouldn’t just wander around. No, she would sit on the couch or at the kitchen table, preparing for whatever conversation she had planned on having. “Rowan, I’ll be out in a moment.” I call out in a sigh, letting her know I was aware of her and wasn’t being ignored. “I hope your show ended well. Sorry I wasn’t there to see the grand finale.” Every word was an effort, taking energy away from me. I wanted nothing more than to be alone.

I give only a few more seconds as I come to my decision and began making my way back to my bathroom. I could down the glass quickly. Rowan gives no response, but I don’t mind. It doesn’t matter. But as I step into the bathroom, I freeze. The blood in my veins suddenly turn to ice and my breath hitches. The glass was missing, as if it were never there in the first place. Sad and confused, I approach the vanity. The red wine, that had matched my lips, was gone. Staring at the reflection in the mirror, I’m reminded that I could never be her, or any of them. The beautiful women that could seduce him with just a soft smirk, a glance in his direction as her finger curled, beckoning him closer. I cringe as I turn away. I didn’t need another reminder that I wasn’t good enough.

“Rowan, give it back. I’m fine. Let me finish my fucking wine.” I stomp down the fall, my heels screaming their wrath. That’s how I enter my kitchen, ready for war, but I stop as something catches my attention. I make my way to the sink in a daze as I reach for my empty glass, the stain from my former lipstick taunting me. The wine bottle is set down and I reach for it, not caring of the guest I had yet to acknowledge. The lightness of the glass bottle tells me exactly what I had been thinking, it had not been spared. Everything was empty, just like me.

I slam the bottle down as I clench my teeth, seething. I wanted to scream, to see the world burn with the rage I was feeling. “Rowan!” I snap and I begin to shake, but whether it was from anger or the lack of control, I wasn’t sure. “Are you fucking kidding me? I barely had any—”

I’m no longer yelling but choking on the gasp that rushes out as fingers caress my neck, a hand gripping my hip tightly. They tease at the base of my neck before tracing my collarbone. The hand on my hip is sliding and sliding until its entangled with the knot of my robe. I know this touch, this gentle melody against my skin. The same gentle caress that ran over my skin as he marked me, embedding his creation into my skin with his dark ink. A permanent work of art that would be displayed on me for the rest of my life, and then suddenly he grasps my neck, squeezing only slightly. I knew what this was. I knew that this was a punishment, his own way of showing his disappointment for my lapse. He wouldn’t hurt me, I trusted him, and I knew that concern was driving his anger. My head rests against his shoulder as his lips find my ear.

“Promise?” he asked, dead serious. His breath makes me shiver and I breath out slowly through my nose. “Promise me that that’s all you had, Wren. Do not lie to me.”

“I promise, John.” I whispered in shame. He knew, god he knew. I was usually good, drinking only in moderation and at social events. I was so careful. But he knew, in this moment, that I had no intention of stopping. I was so swept up in the hurt, in the insecurity and anxiety, that I hadn’t realized how quickly I was falling down the rabbit hole. I make a sound at the back of my throat, and I feel my armor began to fall, disintegrating into nothing as I’m fighting the tears that are coming back.

He doesn’t give me the opportunity to cry. His lips find the junction of my neck and I sigh. Rowan wouldn’t have taken that step, pouring everything I had down the sink. That just wasn’t how she was. She would have lectured, sure. Express disappointment? Absolutely. John wasn’t like that. John was bold, unafraid of anything that ever came his way. I let out a shaky breath as he pulled away, his hand leaving my neck as his finger gently turned my chin. His lips found mine and I couldn’t think.

How long had we skirted around this? How many times had we came this close, but never crossed the line? The stolen glances, the shameless flirting. The way he held me the night I was almost shot in the alley, and yet neither of us were willing to take it further. I could almost laugh, because I had thought for so long it was just me. I was crushing on someone way out of my league. I had believed the words that woman had said. And suddenly, I remembered exactly why I was in this situation. I’m his fiancée.

He pulled away as the tears fell, and I looked away from him. He wasn’t having it. Gripping the front of my robe, he jerks me around. It takes only a few seconds for him to see, and without missing a beat, his hands are on my thighs. He sets me up on the counter as a sob successfully, finally, escapes my lips. His hands cradle my face as his thumbs wipe the tears away. His eyes are soft and they’re pulling me in, a tug on my seams as I become undone. I tore my gaze away, trying to hide everything I was feeling.

“Look at me.” He whispers, his face close enough that I can feel his breath. I looked back, fear and hurt all over my face. “Listen to me and listen very closely. You are enough. Do you hear me? Wren, you are enough.”

“Enough for you?” I croaked as I cried. My hands twisted as the clung to his white button up shirt. I was creating wrinkles, but neither of us cared. His brow furrowed and his jaw ticked.

“Enough for me? God Wren, who gives a shit about me?” He gently pokes my chest, against my beating heart. “It doesn’t fucking matter what I think or what anyone else thinks for that matter. Anyone.” He sneered as a dark look swirled in his cerulean orbs. “All that matters, is that you’re enough for you. You matter, Wren. You come first.”

“But that woman said—”

“That woman is nothing. Her opinion is nothing. She will never touch you, or get close to you, do you understand? She’s a liar and a manipulator. A child throwing a tantrum for not getting what she wants.”

I shook my head, my insecurities still whispering doubts. “She’s so pretty, John. She’s so thin, and I’m nothing like her. I’m not like her.” I sobbed.

He chuckled, a soft smile gracing his lips and showing off his perfect teeth. The light gave him a heavenly glow, yellow highlighting his features that made him look warm. “No, you’re not. You’re nothing like her, Wren. But that’s one of the biggest things I love about you.” He gently pressed his thumb against my lips, helping silence my sobs as I hung onto every word. “Shhh. Don’t cry, darling. Do you not see? Do you not understand just how beautiful you are, inside and out? Do you not know what it is you do to me?”

“John—” I gasped, but he presses his lips softly against mine before pulling back.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this? I’ve thought of little else since I’ve first laid eyes on you.” He whispers. “I get to watch you, Wren. I get to watch you every night when you perform, and I want nothing more than to devour you, to have you all to myself.” He tugged the robe loose, making it fall open and his eyes travelled down. My skin heated immediately from his attention, his finger returning to my chest as it teasingly traced the top of my breast. “I waited, bidding my time for the perfect moment. It never seemed to come, though, and I had to watch as that idiot detective circled you. But I protected you when you needed, listened to you when you needed the shoulder to cry on. I wanted you, craved you, but needed you to be happy, to be ready and unafraid. I wanted to take my time with you, but I can’t keep my fucking hands off you.”

I laughed and his smile broadened as he leaned back. “So…you’re not engaged?”

He scoffed. “Hell no. We used to be, but that was years ago. She’s nothing to me.” He placed a light kiss on my nose, before going for my lips, but I stopped him. He gave me a look and I smirked.

“Did you break into my apartment?” I asked, my brow raising, and he gave me a smirk in return.

“Oh darling, I plead the fifth.”

“So, that’s a yes.”

“It is not. Need I remind you that I’m innocent until proven guilty?” he asked, a breathless laugh escaping him. He gave me a mischievous smirk, something dancing in his eyes that made my lower abdomen pull as I bit my lip. “I heard about what happened, Whitney told Rowan and I everything. Rowan was enraged, I believe she may or may not have taken a swing at our unwanted guest. I didn’t stay though, I needed to check on my girl.” He tilted my chin up gently, his lips brushing mine lightly. “And you are my girl, aren’t you darling?”

“Yes, John. I’m yours.” I breathed out and his lips crashed against mine once more. Everything forgotten as a sense of relief settled over me. My heart swelled as his hands caressed lovingly against my skin, holding me, and driving the last of my inner demons into the shadows as I fell into his sweet embrace.

#wren blake #john seed #burlesque au #poor wren #she needs a hug #dark thoughts #go john #sorry not sorry #please be nice #i tried #their first post