#so uh. found this in my drafts and surprised myself with it

[padfootastic]

didn’t realise it was sirius & harry saturday already but uh. lucky i had this eh?

“Freaks should neither be seen nor heard.”

Sirius goes deathly still. Surely he didn’t—?

One look at his godson, who was pouring himself a glass of milk without having quite realised what he’d just said, and it was clear he did.

He did hear that correct. His godson did just refer to himself as a freak, without batting an eyelid.

It was a simple question. Sirius was slumped over the kitchen table, eyes half-shut. Caught up in thoughts of what was, what could’ve been—as he was wont to do these. It was a bloody miserable morning, but he was used to that by now.

Well, used to is a bit optimistic. He’s resigned to it.

He kept thinking about that—how the mighty fall. Used to be that he’d never bowed down to anyone, ever (except james. but james was different. james was his, he was home, and it was never like that with him) and look at him now. Can’t step out of the room without logging it in.

Bloody. Miserable.

Until he heard the clang of a glass and the thud of a jug being set down on the table and jerks himself out of his thoughts and his chair.

He stared, wide eyed, at Harry who was calmly standing on the other end of the table from him.

“When did you get in here?” Sirius croaked, throat exceptionally dry.

“It’s been a couple minutes,” Harry shrugged. But how is that—Surely, Sirius would’ve heard him? He wasn’t that out of it, and his senses had always been sharp regardless of where his thoughts were wandering. They’d had to be.

“How did I not hear that?” Sirius said, half to himself. “Teenage boys are notoriously loud.”

That’s when he’d said it. That- that freaks shouldn’t be heard or seen.

And now Sirius is here, frozen in his half slumped position, eyes stuck on the lithe form of his godson. Harry was now humming to himself, an old Muggle number he’d heard on the radio before.

It was incongruent—his words from a second ago were still ringing in Sirius’ ears, but it was slowly being drowned out by the sound of Harry’s humming, the feel of blood rushing in his ears, his magic swirling around him in the beginnings of outrage.

“Harry,” Sirius says, voice carefully controlled. James had called it the ‘Black Siren’ because he thought himself funny. That, and it was a distinctive tone, spread out across generations of Blacks. For all that Sirius professed to be different, at the end of the day, he was cut from the same cloth, was he not?

“Hm?” is the absent response. His godson has moved on to mixing in a scoop of chocolate malt into his glass of milk.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” The clink of spoon against glass. Harry’s face looks unusually well rested, and his hair is in some form of order for once. He looks good—healthy. There’s a small smile on his face as he looks down at his drink. Sirius almost doesn’t want to bring this up. He knows it will ruin the mood, possibly even distance Harry from him (Sirius was the one adult in this place who hadn’t gotten the grumpy teen attitude until now. He quite wanted to keep it that way), but he couldn’t let that stop him either.

Not when his hands were clenched tight enough to draw blood. Not when a dull throb had started behind his eyes, one that hadn’t been there until now.

“Freak should neither be seen nor heard,” he repeats slowly. His gaze is intent on his godson and he can pinpoint the exact second the penny drops. Harry’s fingers spasm around the glass in his hand, and his eyes widen in—fear? panic? horror? A combination of all three?

Sirius wouldn’t be surprised. But he also can’t dwell on it—doesn’t want to think about his godson looking at him with such abject terror. He needs answers now, and he knows if he let himself get swept away by wide, green eyes then he would never get them.

Harry’s mouth opened and closed in rapid succession—Sirius can see the whirlwind of thoughts in his eyes and before Harry can try and doge this, make an excuse to leave or find the words to rage at him, all very plausible options, Sirius cuts in.

“Please Harry, you can’t—how could I let something like go?” His voice is desperate, close to breaking, and in any other instance he’d be mortified.

Harry’s head was bowed, fingers pressed white against his mug. Sirius fought the urge to keep babbling, say something—anything to fill the horrible silence.

“If I said I don’t want to talk about it?” Harry said, voice shaky, like he was trying his best to hold on.

Sirius inhaled. This was—he had to tread carefully here. Trampling all over Harry’s agency, especially after a question like that—where he sounded resigned, like he wasn’t expecting a proper answer—wasn’t something he wanted to do, not even in his quest to find out what had happened to his godson and who had the audacity to say something like that to him. Not just say, no, but make him believe it because that kind of instinctive reply—not even realising what came out of his mouth, that wasn’t an accident. That spoke to something deeper than words thrown around. It was continued conditioning.

“I would…try my best to respect that,” is what Sirius said, though it’s forcefully pulled out of him. “But Harry, you’re…you’re my kid, I don’t know how I can just let it go like that. That came from somewhere.”

“Well, of course it did,” Harry said, mouth twisting in a farce of a smile. “Just because I didn’t realise I slipped doesn’t mean it was a mistake.”

“What—“

“That’s what happens when you’re taught one thing for most of your life, Sirius.”

Sirius deliberately unclenched his hands and stretched his fingers out on the table, ignoring the sting from the reddened, torn skin in the center of his palm.

“The Dursleys?” he asked in a tone that could pass for casual, like he was asking after the weather. It was everything else about him that gave him away. The taut back, the rigid shoulders, the crackling of ozone.

“You’re still a fugitive, you know, Sirius,” Harry said, leaning forward to look at his face. Interestingly, he didn’t sound reproving, merely stating a fact.

“Maybe it’s time I earned that title?”

#harry potter #sirius black #good godfather sirius black #sirius and harry saturday #here’s something to break through all the sheer *talking* i’ve been doing l #so uh. found this in my drafts and surprised myself with it #tried to fit this in the mc but the vibe is too different so drabble it is #and surprisingly i’m happy with the ending for once? 🤭 #even tho it’s ambiguous as fuck lol #this might seem unrealistic but ykno that thing about a character dropping the most traumatic shit casually bc it was so normal for them? #or its turned into something humorous as a defence mechanism and they don’t realise it’s not like that for others! #?* #this is like that basically #tumblr works #pen’s writing #pen’s favourites

[claymorexpunisher]

Call Me Daddy (18+ One Shot)

This was literally sitting in my drafts and I got some inspo to finish it sooo. Enjoy, my loves! 🥰🥰

Pairing(s): Roman Reigns/Fem. Reader

Summary: Roman wants to be addressed properly. Reader makes it a bit difficult for him… until he turns the tables on her.

Tags: 18+, Daddy kink(at this point let’s not be surprised), fingering, humiliation (if you blink). Dom/Sub undertones, consensual kink, consensual sex.

Word Count: 714

I struggled to meet Roman’s steady and slightly amused gaze as he cupped my chin and lifted my face up.

When I finally got the courage to look into his brown eyes, both of his hands gently head my face before he pressed his lips to mine.

The kiss grew much more passionate very quickly, making me go a little woozy as Roman’s tongue tangled up with mine.

“Say it,” he commanded against my lips before he brought me onto his lap, nipping playfully at my bottom lip before he pressed our lips together fully again, weaving his fingers into my hair and lightly pulling on it and making me dizzy. I panted hard as his lips moved to my cheek, down to my neck and even lower onto my chest.

“D-… daddy…” I finally let myself moan as Roman released one of my breasts from the confines of tank top, and his mouth latched onto my sensitive nipple while his hand fondled the other. Mortification made my face burn.

My bones already felt like jelly and there was nothing I could do about it.

I smirked softly as I felt and heard Roman shiver against me as the word finally fell from my lips and I felt him harden underneath me.

I bore down onto him, moaning as I brought him as close to me as possible.

I gasped and arched into him as he lightly bit down on my nipple in response.

Roman released himself from his sweats, careful not to jostle me off his lap. And then he pulled my panties to the side and he firmly rubbed my clit and he ran his expert fingers over my dampening folds, getting me ready for him.

He smirked at the rivers of arousal he found between my legs and it only made my arousal grow. Before I knew it, my hips were moving on their own accord as his fingers toyed with me, gently stretching me open for him.

“Daddy.” I said in a harder, annoyed tone. The word felt more and more natural the more it left my lips.

Or the hornier I got for his cock, I should say. Who was I kidding?

Roman’s deep, mocking chuckle made me whine from deep within my chest and my hips never dared cease their now frantic movements.

He was toying with me in more ways than one and it was starting to piss me off. And he knew it.

“So that’s all it’s gonna take tonight, uh?” Roman quipped and his mocking smirk and heavily-lidded eyes met my disgruntled features. “Why don’t you say that again and maybe I’ll think about puttin’ my dick inside you?” He said crudely. He was teasing me, but I didn’t miss the strain in his voice and on the veins in his neck. I didn’t miss the way the hand he had still wrapped in my hair tensed every so often as if he were holding himself back from gripping himself and making me take him.

Fine. Roman wasnt gonna gimme what I want? I wouldn’t either.

“Fuck me and maybe I’ll say it again.” I challenged, feeling him freeze before he let another one of those deep, sultry chuckles that had me clenching around his fingers.

Suddenly, Roman’s fingers nudged deeper inside of me. The action took me by surprise and it caused me to dig my nails into the skin of his shoulders as my back arched. Through my arousal, I met his triumphant gaze.

“Oh you’re gonna say it. You’re gonna call me Daddy until I say so. Aren’t you, babygirl? We both know that’s how this is gonna go.” Roman murmured, biting his bottom lip as he watched writhe and whimper and shudder like a cat in heat.

Even if I wanted to say a single damn thing, I didn’t think that I could. As his fingers nudged relentlessly against my sweet spot, my brain went numb and I couldn’t think up a single coherent and much less smart assed thing to say.

Pretty soon, his fingers weren’t enough. And just like he said, I didn’t stand a chance.

I begged and pleaded until my voice was almost hoarse and he finally, finally had mercy on me and gave into my pleas...

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fan fiction #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x female reader #wwe smut #wwe oneshot #wwe fic

[swissboyhisch]

Sorry But I really Like Her

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Jack Hughes' Ex!Reader

Summary: You head to Newark to see your parents new place after avoiding it like the plague. Maybe this time, something with make you want to come back.

Word Count: 1670

Warnings: None I think

Request: YES

ANON: can you do smth where you were dating Jack and then broke up and then the reader somehow gets with Nico ??

A/N: This is basically a part two to PROM QUEEN

THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD

Being in New Jersey was something you had been avoiding for years. But your family had moved and the short distance from New York made them want you to visit. After months of them begging you finally gave in. Newark; a place where you couldn’t avoid seeing your ex. Billboard. Posters. TV. 

First thing you did before going to your parents home was get a drink. You found this little bakery around the corner from your parents. Honestly you were delaying the inevitable. It was a cute shop that had many display cases full of baked goods. Many calling to you.

“How may I help you?” The young woman behind the counter asked as you stepped up. 

You ordered your favourite drink and a slice of cake before sitting at a table in the corner. You had a couple minutes waiting for your order. People watching had become a pastime you had picked up in New York. The city had gotten lonely and being here felt a little better. 

“Here’s your order.”

The cup and food was placed in front of you. You smiled at the waitress as a thank you. A sip helped calm your nerves. Already you had heard multiple people talking about your ex. The asshole who broke your heart in highschool because he got drafted to the NHL. To the Devils. Jack Hughes, your boyfriend for 3 years before his ego got too big for his head. 

But thanks to him, the heartbreak, you have become a model. You were so proud of yourself. For how far you’ve come. Secretly, you hope that Jack has seen one of your works, maybe a cover or two. Regretting ever breaking up with you.

A cough pulled you from your vengeful thoughts. “Excuse me?”

You looked over to see a man with a backwards cap standing there. He was handsome. Very cute. The outfit worked for the end of the New Jersey winter. 

“Hi?”

He blushed, “I uh, would you mind if I sat with you? You caught my eye and I…”

 “Sure,” You agree, nodding to the empty chair opposite you. 

“My name is Nico.”

You reply with your name before taking another sip. At this point you weren’t sure if he knew who you were or not. “How’s your day going?”

“It’s been okay,” Nico answered. “Just had work this morning. Wanted to treat myself after. How about you?”

“Oh, I’ve just come for a visit. My parents just moved here and I live in New York so they’ve been pestering me to come visit.”

The conversation flowed between the two of you. Hitting it off immediately. By the end of your drink, you could tell he had no clue who you were. It was refreshing and made you want to see him again. Nico was easily the nicest guy you’ve ever met. From first impressions that is.

“I have to go, but did you want to exchange numbers?” Nico asked.

You couldn’t help the blush spreading over your cheeks. “I’d love to.”

After exchanging numbers, you parted ways. You headed to your parents where you were surprised by seeing a familiar car in the driveway. It made you hesitate. Finally mustering up the courage, you knocked on the door.

“That must be my baby,” You heard your mum gush to someone inside. The door was thrown open and you were pulled straight into a hug. “Oh my baby!”

You followed your mother inside, through the new house and to the kitchen where Ellen Hughes was sitting at the dinner table. 

“Hi Ellen.”

“Hello sweetheart,” The woman greeted, sending you a soft smile.

Your mum clapped excitedly, “Ellen’s just invited us to Jack’s game on the weekend!”

“Oh really?”

“Isn’t that wonderful?!” Your mother exclaimed. 

It wasn’t exciting for you. Honestly, it was the last thing you wanted to do. But you promised your mother you’d hang out for the week, even staying at the house instead of driving back and forth between the big apple and the city. You’ll probably come to regret agreeing. 

Your phone buzzed. A text. From one particular person. Nico. 

While trying not to seem rude, you sat with the women at the table, having a drink with them. You messaged back and forth with Nico. Conversation seemed to flow easily with the Swiss. He wanted to get to know you and you wanted to get to know him. You found yourself smiling more and more as his texts came through. Something you haven’t done for years. 

The next few days were spent texting Nico whenever you guys could. He still had to work, travelling for it it seemed, so the texts weren’t 24/7 but pretty damn close too. You found yourself enjoying your time off and spending your time however you liked. Oh and can’t forget the occasional call with Nico when he could.

“Are you ready for the game?” Your mum called up the stairs. 

Grabbing your jacket, you walked down to join your parents and Jim and Ellen who kindly offered to pick you guys up for the Devils’ game. The chances that you’d be spotted at the game were high. So the outfit was well coordinated. Despite hating your star ex, you had enjoyed watching hockey since you were a kid. Now you avoided it until today. 

You had decided to just say fuck it and enjoy the game. Promising yourself to go down and watch warmups from a closer spot than the box you’d be sitting in with the Hughes’ family. Which came quicker than you’d expected. Warm-ups were on you and you headed down to the lower bowl. A few people had asked you for an autograph but you mostly flew under the radar. Which you appreciated. 

“Please welcome your New Jersey Devils to the ice!”

One by one players skated on. The first you recognised was Jack. Looking much more mature than when you were in highschool. Before the draft. You avoided looking in his direction. Choosing to watch the remaining players come out of the tunnel and onto the ice. One in particular caught your attention. He seemed familiar but as he did his lap around their half of the ice, you realised why he was familiar. Nico. 

“Damn.”

Nico skated on the ice, stick handling and doing his thing when something caught his eye. A certain woman standing in the crowd. He couldn’t help himself. Coming to a stop in front of you, he held up the puck and tossed it over. Giving you that pearly white smile.

“Surprised to see you here,” He shouted, hoping you’d hear him.

You caught the puck and shrugged. “I like hockey, what can I say?”

He went back to doing his thing while you watched. Nico felt good about the game. Didn’t hurt that the cute person from the bakery was watching. What you didn’t realise though was that Jack had gone to join Nico during warmups when he saw the scene. 

You. The one who got away. Talking to his friend. His captain. Both of you are smiling from ear to ear. A smile that was once aimed at him.

“Who was that?” Jack asked Nico as he joined him near the bench.

“I met them at a bakery near here after training the other day,” Nico answered. Jack could tell he was smitten. “They’re  lovely. I’m gonna ask them out.”

Jack couldn’t believe it. You were here and not even for him. It was his one regret, letting you go that day back in senior year. A model. You became a famous model while he made his name in the NHL.

As the boys took a drink during ad break, you were shown on the big screen. The title card comes up announcing to everyone who you were. Famous Model for Vogue. Behind you were Jim and Ellen. Everyone knew you were sitting with his parents. 

“Why is she sitting with your parents?” Nico asked. His brows furrowed when he recognised the people around you.

Jack sighed, “She’s my high school ex. Apparently my parents invited her parents and she was in town. Tagging along. Didn’t even know.”

“I’m still going to take her out,” Nico states. He was adamant. “Sorry, but I really like her and want to see where this could go.”

“Don’t worry, she’s worth it,” Jack answers as he skates away.

After the game finished, Ellen and Jim ushered you towards the locker room. Your parents happily chat to them while you stood off to the side. You hoped to god that if Nico had found out that he was still willing to see you. When the door opened, Nico came out first. His eyes landing on you a bit further back.

“So you’re Jack’s ex?” Nico spoke first as he come to a halt in front of you.

“Look…”

“I want to see where this could go,” Nico interrupts.

You smile shyly, “Are you sure? It’s messy, he’s your teammate. I understand–”

“Do you want to go to dinner? I know it’s late but I know this really cute diner.”

You didn’t reply as your eyes came to fall on Jack. Without another moment, you agreed to the date. Nico wanted to take you on a date. It made you happy. You hoped you both could leave without having to talk to Jack but he called your name.

You frown as your turn to face your ex. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry,” Jack states.

“I don't care. Because of you, without that heartbreak, I wouldn’t be where I am today.”

WIthout so much as another word, you and Nico left Jack standing alone in the hallway with both sets of your parents watching in silence. Nico escorted you to his car and opened the passenger side door for you to climb in. Shutting your door, he walked to his side and climbed in. Starting the car.

You smile at Nico. “Let’s go. I’m looking forward to this date.”

TAG LIST

@findapenny @mp0625 @hischierhaze @11zegras @lvrzegras @francesfarhadi @cixrosie @daisysthings @jayrami3

#nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier fic #nico hischier #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #new jersey devils imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #swissboyhisch imagine #swissboyhisch requests #swissboyhisch #nhl imagines #nhl x reader #nhl rpf #nhl blurb #hockey blurb #hockey rpf #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fic #New jersey devils imagine #new jersey devils imagines #new jersey devils x reader #new jersey devils fanfiction #new jersey devils fic #new jersey devils blurb #nico hischier imagines #nico hischier blurb

[whoevenknowswhatimwriting]

The Words that Cut

i'm very much open to criticism on this (since it's the first draft of a half-finished idea). hope y'all have fun with it, though! trigger warnings are in the tags.

Dare woke up covered in blood. While he sat up blearily, frosty purple hair in his eyes, he felt something start to rip, resistance from bandages and scabbed-over flesh. He eased himself up more slowly, making sure he had leverage beyond just his spine.

Alright. Breathe. You’re okay. Just try and remember what happened. You were… Oh. You tried to run. Stopped up your ears so no one could call your name and snuck out in the night. Okay, you’re okay. Where are you?

Dare peered at his surroundings, golden light around him. He wasn’t home, then, suffocating behind stone walls. Cloth rippled in the breeze, cascading sunlight falling through it, and he took another breath.

Good. You’re doing it. You’ll be fine.

“Uh. Hi.”

Dare jolted slightly, still trying to hold himself still through the surprise. He turned slightly, seeing a boy who looked around his age, moss green lipstick a contrast against dark brown skin. He held clean bandages and trauma shears, but it didn’t seem like he was planning on using them yet.

“Are you okay? My sister found you a good distance away, and, well, I’m better than the maggots at keeping people alive.”

“I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

“I’m Amon. Can I have your name?”

“No.”

That was rude. You can apologize later. You should apologize later. But better safe than sorry, I suppose.

“Okay, sorry, uh… what should I call you, then?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I guess we can figure it out later. How are you feeling as of right now? You said you’d be fine, but there’s a difference between being okay later and feeling alright now. I didn’t want to give you any painkillers while you were asleep, but being shot with an arrow can’t feel good, especially since you moved around. Did that do anything? It’s not really safe to sit up after an injury like that.”

That’s a lot to process at once. Just think through it. Ask him to wait. He’ll give you time.

“Uh, not great? I don’t need painkillers, though, especially if you’re running low on them. And I don’t think I hurt myself badly enough to kill me.”

“That doesn’t sound like you’re okay. Are you sure you don’t want painkillers?”

Idiot. Give yourself time to process the information. If you always have to tell the truth, you should make sure you can deceive, at least. He knows, he can see it in the horns that coil around your ears and the color of your hair and everything you’ve spent years wishing you could hide. You’ve lost a lot of blood, but you should be more careful if you don’t want to lose more.

“I don’t need them.”

“That’s not what I asked. We have plenty.”

“Fine.”

He’s trying to help you. Be polite.

Amon crossed over to a cabinet at the far side of the room, or tent, or whatever you wanted to call it, and pulled out a vial of liquid in a terrifyingly saturated blue tone.

“Drink this all in one go. It looks pretty, I know, but I swear it does not taste good. And if you need to, you can plug your nose.”

Dare grabbed it, and did as instructed, although he’d had much worse in his time. Choking down painkillers was honestly a nice break.

“Thank you. You didn’t need to do this, so I appreciate it.”

“You’re right, but I should have, so I did. There’s not many of us left out here, away from big cities or castles. We’ve gotta look out for each other, you know?”

“I might be more trouble than I’m worth.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re worth a lot of trouble, so I’d like to see someone try to give us enough to make that happen.”

“You should be careful what you wish for. I’m not a safe person to be around.”

“Is it your fault? The danger, I mean?”

“No.”

“Then it’s fine. Anyways, you should try and get some rest. I’ll leave you to it.”

Dare slept poorly, dreams of puppeteers and lying smiles haunting her. She woke up to a girl peering down intently at her, with braids trailing to a puff of curls at the back of her skull. Her dress was covered in flowers, pearlescent gold embroidery catching the light and reflecting back luminous yellow.

“I’m Kaya. You don’t have to tell me your name, not unless you want to. How are you feeling?”

“Better. I’m assuming you’re Amon’s sister? He mentioned you,” she responded, propping herself up gingerly on one elbow.

Be careful. You’re still hurt, don’t make it worse. You’ve had worse, yes, but you need to keep yourself alive.

“Yeah.”

“Then I’m in your debt most of all. Thank you. I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you.”

“I’m sure someone would have picked you up. After all, there’s a castle nearby, and there are usually patrols around those parts. I just happened to be the first one to get to you.”

“Yes. Well, I was fortunate it was you, as I doubt I’d have fared as well with the nobility. I’ve… had some difficulty, let’s say, with a lord in the past, though I hope to have put that behind me.”

Kaya sighed. 

“You and everyone else. We try to keep ourselves as distant from them as possible, so you shouldn’t have to worry too much about that.”

Okay. You can rest easy now.

Dare closed her eyes, breathing out a long, deep sigh of relief.

“I hope you’re right. This place… It’s nice. Better than anywhere I’ve been in a long time.”

“Well, you can stay as long as you like, stranger.”

Dare thought they might be okay, eventually. They were healing, at least, though they couldn’t look at the arrow lying nearby without quickly turning their head away. It was broken in two, since Amon had to get it out safely, and it was still sitting near them, since he’d insisted on testing it for poison.

Besides, they didn’t need it gone. They could just look away, so why even mention it?

Speaking of Amon, he’d brought a chair in with him some time earlier, since there was only so much time someone could spend on their feet. Dare got the feeling that he’d spent most of his time here working on smaller, less… mortal wounds. Nonetheless, they were grateful for his experience. 

And he didn’t push, not unless they were trying to “act tough,” or however he put it. It wasn’t something they were used to, his quiet way of nudging them to tell the truth, but it might have been worth getting shot half an inch under their heart for.

Kaya wasn’t there as much, but, then again, she had her life to live, and she wasn’t as integral to the healing process. Still, it was nice to see her on occasion, when they could.

They couldn’t help but feel, though, that this peace, this respite, wouldn’t last. Either they wouldn’t hold on tight enough, and it would slip through their fingers, or they would crush it in their hands. And they just knew that it was made of glass.

that's a wrap on chapter 1! i hope you enjoy my little people as much as i do. if you want to be added to a tag list, let me know!

#tw injury #allusion to abuse #allusion to injury #writeblr #writing #writer stuff #writers on tumblr #writing community #writers and poets #writerscommunity #my ocs #ocs #original character #genderfluid main character #queer characters #queer artist #lgbtq #fantasy #fiction #my fic #my writing #writerblr #creative writing

[aerodaltonimperial]

(remember how i said i keep wanting to improve my dialogue skills well i have not forgotten that haha so this is just some practice that i tinkered around with. it's just slop, so it's going here.)

"Hey."

"Hey. Uh, hold on, I'm... I'm gonna find somewhere to talk."

"You in medical?"

"Yeah. Uh—hey, Nick. I'm gonna go take this. No, no, I'll be fine."

"Maybe you shouldn't be walking around. I can call back—"

"No. It's good. I'm heading to a hallway. One of the quiet ones."

"Alright. If you're sure."

"Yeah, of course. ... uh, how are you?"

"That's what I was going to ask you. I saw the match. On TV, I mean, obviously. I'm sorry. I know you wanted to have another shot at MJF."

"Not in the cards, I guess."

"Are you okay?"

"Uh. Well, my spine might be drafting divorce papers as we speak, so. I guess we'll see."

"Suppose you can't send it to sleep on the couch, huh?"

"Not so much. But I'll live. Pretty sure, anyway. ...and you didn't answer my question."

"Oh. ...I'm fine. It's... really boring, honestly."

"Yeah, I bet."

"It's, uh. It's quiet."

"You don't like quiet."

"... no, I don't. But..."

"You'll be back soon."

"... will I? Because, like, honestly, social media has just exploded and—"

"Okay, get off social media. I'm serious, log off Twitter. Right now. You do not need this. That place is where common sense goes to die."

"I... fuck. Yeah, you're right. Okay. I'll just... not look at it for awhile."

"Yeah, like, the next five years."

"Right."

"... look, with everything, it's been... I just never had a chance to see if you were okay after that match. With, y'know, losing the belt and everything."

"Ah. Yeah. Uh, it's fine."

"That's the kind of shit answer you give when it's not fine, Jack."

"Well, obviously it's not fine, but it is what it is, right? This is just... how it works."

"You'll come back, and you'll go for another one."

"Sure. Like the TNT, huh?"

"Maybe you could get this turtleneck fucker off my back."

"... they don't... uh, they don't happen to know we're talking or anything, do they? I mean, I'm not trying to say it would matter, and obviously, it's all bullshit, but—"

"They don't know we're talking."

"Oh. Okay."

"Actually... actually no one knows we're talking."

"... oh. Right. Because I'm the wo—"

"No. No. I know what you're going to—fuck. That's not what I—no. Jesus. I know you're going to take that the wrong way, and it's not how it is. I just... god, I just... I want something for myself, y'know? Something that's just mine right now."

"... Darby."

"Okay, I know that sounds... really fucked up, but I don't—"

"It doesn't."

"... it doesn't what?"

"It doesn't sound fucked up. It, uh... it sounds... Um. ...you want me to yourself?"

"... yeah. Um, yeah?"

"... really?"

"Well, I guess I just said all that out loud, so... oh boy. Yeah."

"I... uh, I feel like maybe we should talk about this? But not, like, when you're standing in the hallway half a second away from the polos figuring out where you've slipped off to."

"Heh. No kidding. Uh, yeah. I'll, um... I'll call you? Later? Once I'm back in my room. Unless you've something else to—"

"I don't."

"Okay. Well. You can... y'know, or you could put on those green panties you used to wear all over the place here and FaceTime me."

"I honestly cannot tell if you're joking right now."

"... not sure if I am or not, really."

"You're full of surprises, you know that?"

"Is that good or bad?"

"I guess you'll have to wait and figure that out when I FaceTime you."

"God, you're a dick."

"Hm, heard that before."

"Shit, medical's here. They found me. Alright, I gotta go get my spine snapped back into place. Again."

"Try not to die."

"Okay, I'll... talk to you later."

"Yeah. ...I'll talk to you later."

#tag so you don't lose this shit #was this successful? #i suppose you will be the judge of that haha #but it was good practice at the very least #so we'll go with that

[strangerhottotties]

Hi. If you are accepting requests, could you write a Eddie one where you are Dustin cheerleader sister who also play D&D and have a secret crush on Eddie and no one knows besides your friend Chrissy (let's pretend that she still alive ans season 4 events never happened) and when Dustin and Mike needs someone to replace Lucas, your brother finds you talking to Chrissy and asks you to replace him and she knowing about your crush on Eddie,helps you find a excuse to miss the match to be on Hellfire as a favour to your brother. While Eddie is surprised to see that you are the person who will replace Lucas in the campaign since he didn't know you played D&D and soon after,asks you to talk to you where he assumes he has something for you and asks you on a date, much to Dustin's delight since he knows of your crush on his friend and his friend crush on you and wants his favorite people (after Steve) be together

Warnings: TW: Dustin jokes once about killing himself. Reader threats to kill Dustin on several occasions. This is mostly flirting, fluff and pining. I hope you enjoy.

A/N: Thank you for the ask, sorry it's taken me a hot minute to actually reply to this. But I'm absolutely NOT going to rush any of my requests. Firstly, I love that you guys enjoy my writing enough to request anything, so I love requests! I just want to make sure I'm satisfied with the quality. Secondly, I'm really trying not to burn myself out. So, thank you for being patient with me, darling. MWAH! I totally adjusted the end just a little bit. So I'm sorry but most of it is true to the request.

Post A/N: OH MY GOD I RANDOMLY FOUND THIS IN THE BOTTOM OF MY DRAFTS AND IT ACTUALLY SAVED! I THOUGHT IT LOST!

The most horrifying thing Dustin had ever spoken was after the very first day of his freshman year nearly made you crash your car. Your tires had squealed when you hit the brakes. "DUDE! WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOU!" He'd shouted after getting yanked against his seatbelt. His other words like a black hole in your head.

I made a new friend today! He's a senior who's, like the coolest dude ever! He offered to let us join his D'n'D club, you should join too!

"You're friends with Eddie Munson?" You demand.

"Yeah, you know him?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah," you offer before focusing back on the road and proceed to drive again.

"I'm surprised you're not in Hellfire. It's a D'n'D club!"

"Uh, yeah, I'm okay," you offer meekly. Dustin's eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"I don't get it, what's everyone got against Eddie?"

You take a deep breath. "Dustin, do you remember how when we were kids, we'd play the secret game?"

"Take it to the grave?"

"Yep," you reply. "Do you want to play?" You watch his eyes light up and he twists to stare at you. Always eager for juicy gossip.

"Yeah, yeah!" He leans forward eagerly. "What is it?" You bite your lip.

"Eddie Munson... is the guy I've got a crush on." His jaw drops wide open.

"EDDIE IS 'THE GUY'!?" He shrieks. "Eddie is the guy that sits in front of you in Mrs. O'Donnel's class? The one that you always say would never give you a second look?"

"Yep."

"THEN YOU GOTTA JOIN HELLFIRE TOO!"

"NO WAY! AND YOU SWORE! IF I FIND OUT YOU TALKED TO HIM ABOUT ME, I WILL CRASH THIS CAR INTO A TREE AT FULL SPEED WITH YOU IN IT!"

Dustin dropped it. To the grave meant something genuinely. But he hated being stuck in the middle. Especially when less than a week later he had almost an identical conversation with Eddie.

His bag had been jerked off his shoulder by some asshole on the football team. The papers went fly when his broken zipper split. Eddie was nearby and nearly got into a fist fight over it, which Dustin was definitely going to fill you in on later. When the jocks finally stomped off, Eddie squatted down to help him collect his papers.

"Damn, these are killer marks, Dustin!" Eddie congratulates him while patting his back.

"Oh yeah, huge nerd, ya know." Then Eddie's face sobers.

"Wait," he grunts as holds up a finger.

"Yeah, what's up."

"What's this?" He demands, pointing at Dustin's messy writing at the top. His full name. "Henderson? Are you related-"

"Yep. Yeah. Mhmm," the kid folds under the intensity of Eddie's gaze. "The cheer captain, valedictorian would in fact be my sister, yes." Eddie takes a deep breath to steady himself.

"The Queen of Cheer is your older sister?" Dustin wants to beat his head against the wall. It was the topic of conversation at the Hellfire meeting twenty minutes later. Dustin was drowned in the guys all drooling over you. Something he was used to, at this point. And then Gareth says something that has Eddie's eyes widening.

"Dustin, who would have the best chance at scoring a date with her." Dustin drops his jaw wide open to stare at Keith. Then he begins to laugh nervously.

"Definitely me," Lucas smugly answers, mostly joking.

"No way," Mike scoffs back, "not one of us has a chance. Especially not you!"

"Yep, no one. Definitely no one." Every head swivels at his poor lying. Mike stares at him in disbelief.

"No way!"

"What! I didn't-"

"Does she have a crush on someone!?" Mike demands, shoving Dustin.

"I TOOK IT TO THE GRAVE!" Uproar erupts among the table. Everyone sitting forward. Will, Mike and Lucas all groaning with frustration.

"What does that mean!?" Gareth demands.

"It means his sister swore him to secrecy and he won't peep."

"Believe me! I want to! It's so stupid but she told me last week! If you got to me before she almost crashed the car because I mentioned the guy, I could have told you!" Everyone is on the edge of their seats with this.

"C'mon, what can you tell us," Eddie presses with the most charm he can muster despite the situation.

"No way, no. I'm not allowed to talk to you guys about her. She forbids it!" Eddie stands and makes his way around to the kid.

"Talking to us about her? Dustin, do you have dirt on your sister?" Dustin remains quiet, wildly uncomfortable about being put on the spot. "Henderson," Eddie coos, "you're not corrupted into doing the bidding of your older sister are you?"

"Of course not! But there are lines I won't cross!"

"There's got to be a degree of loyalty to your friends. Aren't you loyal to Hellfire?"

"Yes! Yes! Of course, I am!"

"Then tell us something about your sister." Dustin squeezes his eyes shut as Eddie rests his weight across the back of his shoulders.

"The guy she likes," Dustin starts and everyone sits forward in eager curiousity, "he... he..." He desperately tries to recall some bit of information he can spare. "Look, can it be any information or..."

"You know what, sure, kid," Eddie offers, with a wet willie. Dustin shutters in disgust and wipes at his ear quickly.

"Fine, I tried to set her up with Steve Harrington multiple times... but she's always refused because she has a huge crush on someone else..." Eddie grins down at him proudly.

"There you go, was that so hard." Dustin sinks down in his seat and passes Lucas a miserable look. Feeling horrible for outing you like that.

"Don't let him get to you," Gareth grunts out, unimpressed with Eddie. "He just has a huge crush on her and never shuts up about her."

Eddie twists to fix his friend with a horrified look and then Dustin rolls his eyes and groans. "Henderson, you tell her, and I'll make every campaign Hell for the rest of the year."

"You've gotta be kidding me," Dustin grumbles to himself.

Your name being called is what drags you away from conversation with Chrissy. You glance up to see Dustin jogging across the parking lot for your car. "Hey," you offer him.

"Hey, Chrissy," your brother offers with a smile. She gives him a warm one back.

"Hey, Dustin."

"What are you up to? Don't you have class?"

"I gotta ask you a favor," Dustin replies.

"Shoot."

"Lucas is bailing on D'n'D tonight for the game and it's the end of the campaign. Eddie's gonna drill us. We need another body for the party, please, please, please. You have to be there tonight. I can't find anyone else, and Eddie won't reschedule."

"Oh, oh, oh, you have to go!" Chrissy urges as dread sinks in your belly.

"Chris! We're supposed to be at the game tonight! How am I, cheer captain, going to skip our biggest game of the season!?"

"She'll do it!" Chrissy insists. "I'll cover for you at the game!" She squeezes your side and leans in to whisper. "Go get you some Munson." You flush deeply. "Okay, Okay, but Lucas is a ranger, right? I'm a mage, is that really a good idea."

"Please, Eddie is a tyrant as DM." You take a deep breath and sigh.

"I'll meet you after school, but you so owe me."

"YES! THANK YOU!" And with that he throws into a hug.

The drama room quiets as your shoes squeak to a stop. "You made it!" Dustin calls.

"What is this?" Eddie laughs like it's some big joke. You take a deep breath to steel yourself against the emotions that swell at the fact that Eddie Munson was speaking to you. You were in the same room as him, and he was acknowledging your existence like you imagined daily. Like you always willed him to turn around in class and give you a flirty smile. It never happened.

"I found a sub for Lucas."

"I'm missing the game for this," you reply to Eddie a lot smoother than you expect. Your voice even, steady. Eddie rises from his throne and move towards you, head tilting at you.

"Oh, and the Queen of Cheer knows about d'n'd?"

"You're looking at a level seventeen mage," you respond. Eddie's face flashes briefly with shock.

"There's no way."

"Want to see my score sheet?" You hold out your hand as Dustin digs through a folder he kept. "I haven't played in a while, but I know what I'm doing." Dustin passes you the sheet, grinning widely. When you look over at him, he winks and you want to strangle him.

Eddie hums quietly as he glances over the sheet. His eyes meet yours and your heart flutters in your chest. "Well, do you want me to play?" You demand, voice softening more than you mean it to.

Eddie steps into your space, a lazy smile crossing his lips. "If you want me to play with you," your eyes widen at his words and you can feel the warmth of your cheeks turn to burning, "you'll have to say 'please', princess." He's so close you can smell the smoke and his shampoo. It's hard not to take innuendo away from what he just said.

Why, oh why, did you have such a crippling crush on such a prick. You send a hard look down on to your brother, something promising a vicious response.

When you turn yourself back onto Eddie, he's patiently waiting. You take in another deep breath, inhaling the earthy smell of him before you fix him with your 'siren' eyes as Chrissy called them. Your half-lidded smile in response to Eddie has his breath hitching. Eddie was unaware of your competitiveness that would often draw out your feral side. Only you were consciously vicious.

You'd play his game. But you don't think he's prepared for it. You press yourself close, pressing your breasts into his chest. Your mouth hovers close to his ear.

"Oh, Eddie," you breathe for him, "won't you please let me play with you and your friends?"

"That's underhanded," he murmurs back.

"Thought you were supposed to bring the fire, or is the throne for show?" You taunt. He takes in the dark grin you're giving him. It's surprises you how easy it is to flirt with him. He gives you a breathy laugh. It might be nervousness but when he pins you with a dark gaze, you know it's just fueling something.

"Fine. You can join. But I'm gunnin' for you, sweetheart."

"I'm so scared. Now, aren't you going to pull out a chair for the queen?" Dustin high fives you below the table when a folding chair is tucked in for you.

"Thank you," he murmurs.

"My services aren't free, Dusty."

"Oh, I think you'll like my repayment."

The laughter and cheers fill the room still. If you hadn't rolled nat twenty with that last roll there wouldn't be so much thrill in the boys around you hooting and hollering. It was a fun campaign, certainly grueling, and it reminded you of when you'd gotten Dustin into it. Before you'd even moved to Hawkins. The hype was what you'd always loved about Cheer.

Somehow this was better though. Everyone shouting and laughing as they packed up their things. "Hey, Eddie," Dustin calls as Eddie is about to slip out the door. He says it at the same time as he grabs your wrist to stop you. "Come here a sec."

"What's up, little Henderson?" You frown in confusion as Dustin plucks the keys out of your hand.

"I'm gonna leave in a second," Dustin encourages as Eddie rakes his eyes over you quickly.

"Um... okay?" Eddie offers.

"And I know I said to the grave," your eyes widen and you snap fully towards him.

"Don't you dare."

"My sister has had a crush on you for like four years." Eddie's head swivels back to you.

"To the grave you're going."

"Shut up, if I have to spend one more lunch period with him staring at you across the cafeteria and talking about how pretty you are, I'm going to kill myself." You flush deeply and now you both watch each other quietly.

Dustin grins proudly. "Okay then, I'll be in the car." And with that, your brother skips out of the Drama room. Eddie and you evaluate each other quietly.

"So you enjoyed that little tease at first, didn't you?" Eddie grins, letting his bag slip from his shoulder to the floor. You flush.

"Take me on a date and I might tell you," you whisper quietly. Eddie grins at you, stepping back into his face.

"I didn't know you were a devil worshipping nerd before tonight, might have changed my opinion of you," he teases. You start to feel the bite of rejection until he suddenly walking you back onto the table. "How does Saturday sound?"

You lick your lips and nod at him, too emotionally fried to put up a fight like you did earlier. "Yeah, I'd like that." Now that your perched on the edge of the table he just gives you a cocky grin. The lingering silence making you nervous. "Are you gonna stand there and stare or are you going to kiss me?" You demand quietly.

Eddie gives you a mean little laugh and leans in really close. "Good girls wait until the end of a date." You flush and a pout of sorts settles across your face.

"I'm not as good as you think," you encourage. Eddie gives you a shaky breath and then explains it very gently. Butterflies erupting in your stomach.

"The only reason I have to say no is because I'm worried that...," he swallows and tucks hair behind one of your ears. "If I kiss you now, I don't know that I'll be able to stop. Dustin might be in your car for a while." It has you sucking a breath in and your gaze softens on him.

"Saturday then," you agree.

"Saturday," Eddie agrees with stunning smile. You reach forward, feeling emboldened by him. Eddie's breath stutters as you snatch his belt buckle and jerk him closer. You push up onto your toes, lips brushing his cheek. You grin when you lean back and see the pink tint of your lips left behind. He's none the wiser.

"See you," you offer him prior to slipping past him and you pause in the hall. His cheeks are red from the stunt you just pulled. You send him one last smile and slip out the door.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson fics #eddie munson stranger things #fluff #request #thanks for the ask!

[chungledown-bimothy]

scrapped from if i loved you less

it's an extremely rough draft, but i hate that it's just sitting in my drafts collecting dust and have 0 intention of ever cleaning it up. woe, mediocre writing be upon ye

Hob and Andhera have a conversation neither of them are at all qualified or equipped to have.

<morning after tea/the hedge maze. hob receives andhera's letter, goes to spar>

“Captain! Lovely to see you this morning, and, uh, congratulations, I suppose, for your engagement!”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” He tossed Andhera a quarterstaff without another word.

<it's not even at all, but it is much closer than either of them would have guessed. andhera is better and hob is off his game>

After the match, Hob regarded Andhera intensely. “If it is not too bold, Your Highness, were you genuine in expressing a desire for friendship? If not, that’s fine, I won’t say a word. I simply would like to know where we stand.”

“Y- uh, yes, I was. Is that something you would like as well?” They lightly rubbed the back of their neck.

“Indeed, it is. I find myself in need of advice with no one I can trust.”

“It appears it is my turn to risk being too bold, then- is that not what relationships, engagements, marriages, are? Trust?”

“The issue is not whether or not I can trust Rue, it is that there are certain things that I am perhaps not ready to discuss with them and would appreciate another perspective on. It is far more difficult to see a battle in its entirety from the front lines, so to speak.”

“Ah, I see. In that case, then, of course! I don’t know how much help I’ll be able to be, but I’m happy to listen.”

“The engagement is a political one. Arranged by our courts without either of our knowledge until the deal was done and we had no choice in the matter.”

“I must admit, I- I am quite surprised. I know there were rumors that were nearly a scandal that your court was attempting to arrange a match between yourself and Lady Gwyndolin, but I don’t think anyone would doubt your affection for them after your words at tea yesterday.”

“Therein lies the problem. I find myself beyond enamored with them, to my great shame."

Andhera was silent for a few seconds that felt infinite to Hob. Eventually, they spoke. "I suppose it is my turn, then, to apologize for perhaps being too bold- why are you ashamed of that? Love is beautiful and all too rare, something to be cherished when found."

Hob was silent for a long time, trying to reconcile the truth in their words with everything he knows about himself and his situation.

#dimension 20 #a court of fey and flowers #kp hob #andhera

[ghostwise]

Self-Rec Tag Game 🌹

Rules: share five of your own fanworks (fic, art, etc.) Then, tag five more people to share the things they've made.

Tagged by @palipunk and @isayashai thank you sm ;v; 💞 I will tag @s1ithers @coldshrugs @arcann @vlwv @ruushes if you like!

Something you absolutely adore:

Four Little Crows off to Meet the Maker :: This is chapter 1 of my Antivan long-fic, Quinta de Talpa, and it sets up Zevran and Hamal's quest to oppose the Crows while also serving as a 'marriage proposal' fic. I think it's a punchy start to a really long project, and I adore it! It motivates me to continue. :)

The door to their room opened before he could knock, and Hamal looked at him, brow furrowed, eyes heavy with lack of sleep. In one quick sweep, he took in the blood-stained clothes. Zevran shook his head. He pushed his way in.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I may have… underestimated things.”

2. Something that was challenging to create:

For Suffering is Such a Part :: AO3 :: This is the first long-fic I finished, and it took me years to complete. I found it incredibly daunting to work on anything longer than 1k, but I was deeply attached to the story and couldn't get it out of my head; I dedicated myself to completing it for several months after picking up an old draft. It's set during the Nature of the Beast quest in Origins. I uh still think about it a lot o_ o;

“My! Aren’t you a poet!” Zevran exclaimed, laughing into his wrist. “Am I just a hunk of meat to you?” Grinning broadly at him now, Hamal settled down on one knee, amid beams of sunlight. “Vhenan, to me you are the spring thaw, and all that comes with it.” Zevran looked at him. He blushed to the tips of his ears. He would definitely have to think of sweet things to tell Hamal in revenge—but he was far more poetic in Antivan, and had been caught off guard, so for now he acquiesced. “The things you say,” he told him softly. “Fine, you win. I’m a spring thaw.”

3. Something that makes you laugh (or smile, if that fits more comfortably):

The Reading Stone :: AO3 :: I love writing silly banter, but I often worry it goes too corny. I fear making anything too tonally dissonant. With this one I just had fun with it, and wrote some ensemble goofiness in Orzammar. :)

“And as I said, there is no need,” Hamal retorts. “You all sound like Ashalle. I can get by just fine without glasses.”

“Not if we go by all those bruises you’ve collected, walking into corners,” Alistair tuts. “How do you manage in a fight?”

“An enemy is just a big shape. I simply hit it until it stops moving!”

“Maker…”

4. Something that surprised you (in how it turned out, how much other people liked it, etc.):

All That Matters is That You've Kept on Living :: AO3 :: This was a sweet short piece between Zevran and Isabela. But it felt unpolished and I almost didn't post it! The response was very positive, I was happily surprised. I still feel I can expand on it. Maybe one day. :)They deserve so much love, two of my favorite characters.

Yanking her legs back she tucks them beneath herself and tackles him with a hug, affectionate but very much exasperated.

“You talk about your husband too much, Zevran! No one will ever want to sleep with you!”

Zevran draws in a sharp breath, then he collapses into laughter.

5. Something you want other people to see:

Not a Homecoming, But Something Like It :: AO3 :: Another fic set in Antiva. This one comes very close to being part of QDT, but ultimately it is able to stand alone. Adelmar is mentioned in FSISAP, too, but only through flashbacks. She's an important part of my extended worldstate, as she helps Zevran heal past traumas, and vice versa (she was a prostitute at the brothel he was born in).

“I’m so glad you’re doing well. So tell me,” she scoots closer and looks at him eagerly, “What sort of life did you have, after you were adopted?”

“Adopted?”

By the kitchen counter, Hamal catches the subtle edge in Zevran’s tone. He pauses, holding the knife in his hand as a lull falls over the kitchen table, but he doesn’t know enough Antivan to guess what’s happened.

What’s happened is this: Zevran and Adelmar came from the same place, and know enough about that life to instantly understand that a lie has been told.

“Oh,” Adelmar breathes after a moment. “You… you weren’t adopted.”

Zevran lets out a laugh. It’s his ‘stalling’ laugh, and now Hamal is looking over, arms crossed, searching his face for clues.

“I was not adopted,” he says.

#this is a fun tag game bc it encourages artists to hype up their work AND gives us a personal look at what creators love to make #giving you all flowers rn 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹 #edit: just noticed the buggy text editor cut off the last section ough. fixed.

[dangerously-human]

Tagged by @saxifrage-wreath to share my top 7 Spotify on-repeat songs. I'm sure it will surprise absolutely no one to learn these are all off my Lockwood & Co playlist:

Won't Give Up - Colony House (hi this song makes me SOB on a daily basis; it fits really really well for both Lucy and Lockwood trying to outrun their trauma; "I've got the devil on my back trying to take home from me" is, as I've said before, a very post-THB line for Lucy; "I see Jesus out in front, he's reaching back for the lonely, reaching back 'cause he loves me, I take his hand because she loved me" is a Lockwood line for sure - interpret "she" as Jessica or Lucy or both - the whole thing is just devastating yet also hopeful, which is so the L&C vibe, is it not?)

Ghost in the Valley (have also mentioned this before, gives me Emotions™ about Lockwood seeing his parents' ghosts by the apple tree)

Haunted - The Band CAMINO (Black Winter angst, used to title Living with the Ghost of You)

Best is yet to Come - Judah & the Lion (also makes me cry! In a Lockwood & Co context and also like real life. Perfectly captures the found family of Portland Row, people who've been hurt so badly and spent their lives believing they were broken or made wrong and then find belonging and purpose and so much hope and resilience together)

Last Wish - Till Death (perfect instrumental-only writing/focus music that captures The Vibe especially well for haunted angst; was on heavy rotation for Living With the Ghost of You as well as the TCS chapter of Not Even a Doorknob Between You)

Twenty Something - Nightly (mostly was used for the drunk and moping angst factor for LWtGoY)

Follow Me Down - Colony House (oh look, more from LWtGoY, including "Must have lost myself last night" as a chapter title. The begging to be seen and helped up is Lockwood all over, and then that line toward the end, "I'd rather have life to give than only my life to live" is, uh. Very alarmingly Lockwood and his warped concept of sacrifice)

Tagging @loubuttons, @contagiousgrace (partly because I guiltily acknowledge you tagged me in something like this ages ago and it got lost in my drafts somewhere, so I'm counting this as my attempt at a response), @womaninwinter, and @cakeyouareoh, with no pressure whatsoever!

#personal

[cuillere]

Thanks so much @trainofcommand <3 You keep tagging me in stuff and it's always a warm feeling for me to receive the mention <3

How many works do you have on AO3?

34

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

38,025

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, none. If I was to write some now, It'd be Detroit : Become Human or Stargate. the fandoms I have most written and published for are Star Wars and Dragon age :)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Wings, which is very surprising since I wrote it for a small fandom fest (Van Helsing - 2004)! I really didn't expect to regularly get more reading from this one :) Is that Blood? A kylux short I wrote as part of a challenge. Found myself reading through it again and I love it :)

A long Mission, another kylux short, with a hangry Ren and Hux knows him too well.

Hux and another. This one made my eyes water as I read through it again!

Promise my only published work for Stargate !!! Mcshep <3

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do, unless people specify they don't want me to. I might take some time 'cause I don't always be available, but I will answer :) I feel like it's a way for the reader to be sure that I've read their comments and enjoyed them :) That they have warmed my heart with their words just as I did theirs :)

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

mm, that's a hard one. Hux, mentioned above is definitely a contender! but also What's the matter? I thought you wanted it for Teen Wolf!

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Uh, that's quite hard to say, too! Since my fics are usually quite short, and most of them are just happy or sexy scenes...

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I have never gotten hate on my fics, luckily :)

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I thought I did, but AO3 says I don't ^^ What's sure is that I have som in my (numerous) wips. But also I don't write a lot and smut is rarerly my priority, so I guess it makes sense ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I don't think I ever did, though I do read them sometimes :)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Neither. Though I have been thinking of some fics I'd like available in both english and french

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Nope.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Well, I tend to hyperfocus and to change topics of interest every few months / years. I can't think of anything that has been my all-time favourite.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I have a few of those. One about Jack and Daniel (Stargate) for a soumate AU (which I don't think I've ever done, ever) is on my mind right now, but also an even bigger project for Les lames du Cardinal (which only have one fic, and that fic has 7 hits^^). I don't know If I'll ever take the time to really go through all of the editing, since the first draft is finished... It's from a ttrpg game we did with friends that I enjoyed a lot. Thing is during editing I realized I'd like to change... a lot of things. So maybe it'll neevr happen. it's also in French for the moment.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I am weirdly drawn to writing angst, even though I'd rather read happy stories. I think I'm quite good at descriptions and feelings.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogues and length. Dialogues are often a pain for me. I don't mind shorter fics, but when I have an idea that requires a longer fic, it never quite pays off. I've had multiple bad experiences that ended up scarring me and even though I still wanna make some, I'm very scared about them and the amount of work they require.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I don't think I've ever done it. It can get really messy for some readers, so I'd probably only do it if the dialogue can disappear from the fic and it's not too much of a problem. I think if a pov characters understands it, then the reader has to understand it. If the pov character doesn't, then I'll definitely tend to mention they talk another language, see if there are words or intention that can through, and probably avoid the actual dialogue altogether ^^

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

I already mentioned I don't have favourites ^^ I guess the one that has surprised me the most is Wings, because really the prompt Spoke to me so much and I'm quite proud of what I did and of the end result.

As always, feel free to feel tagged :) My thoughts go to @sunwarmed-ash @cyberbullyingandroids @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

#ask games #writing

[primewritessmut]

2, 10, 11, 13, 16, 18, 19, and 40

2. talk about a notable time a narrative or character has looked you dead in the eyes and said “fuck your plan, here’s what we’re actually doing.”

already answered

10. at what point in the process do you come up with titles, and how easy or hard is that for you?

Very early in the process only because I have zero chill and as soon as that first chapter is written, it's getting posted. That's lead to having some fics that I wish I could rename because it didn't end up fitting the final form but... eh. It's all a learning curve.

Usually, I pull a quote out of the fic and that becomes the title (for the entire fic and the chapters), but I also like making puns or using well known phrases because I'm a fucking dweeb.

11. what’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? also, how much do you worry about doing research in general?

I don't do a lot of research. Anyone that hangs around this blog and reads these asks for even a minute probably knows that I write strictly for the vibes. Basically, I don't worry to much about it and, if someone corrects me later, I try to change it.

I did an unusual amount of research about spiders as background for Peter in Songs for the Zombie Apocalypse. Mostly around how spider eyes work and what specific spider Peter might have gotten his mutations from. Jumping spiders have eyes that can do both telescopic vision and see colors and depth in the same way that humans do. I originally had plans to incorporate this more (lots of head tilting to dial in the telescopic sight) but it didn't fit the word count.

Also, if you ever need to know about New York cities surrounding Albany in the 1930s, I've drawn up a map. For reasons.

13. talk about a writing experience that has pleasantly surprised you.

already answered

16. where is your favorite place to write?

At home. I alternate between my desk and the kitchen table. I do genuinely enjoy writing in public as well (the library especially is fantastic!) but am hyper paranoid that someone is going to accidentally catch sight of a knife kink scene over my shoulder and call the cops.

18. what is your most and least favorite part of writing?

Writing is one of the few places that I ever experience a true sense of flow. The other being athletics which are frustratingly thin on the ground as an adult. I don't know, it probably sounds stupid to say that writing makes me happy. It doesn't make me happy but it allows me to get out of my own way sometimes which I fucking need.

Opening myself up for feedback is my absolute least favorite part of writing. It's why I usually don't edit (hope ya'll enjoy my sloppy first drafts!) or have a beta. Like, I write to get the fuck away from people and expectations, so it's EXHAUSTING when the writing creates those things in excess. I am terrible at taking constructive criticism. Don't give it to me. It will not end well.

19. what are some books or authors that influenced your style the most?

There are the authors that I wish would influence my style and then the ones that actually did. I grew up on a steady diet of very specific teenage horror and, the more I look back, the more I realize how much that probably influenced my work.

So, uh, thanks to Christoper Pike, I guess.

Beyond that, there aren't a lot of authors that I think influenced me. I found Chuck Palahniuk at a very special developmental stage for my brain and romance, as an entire genre, has (no shit) probably saved my life. Got to get the good brain chemicals from somewhere if you can't produce them yourself, right?

40. best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.

My fifth grade teacher, after grading a writing assignment, called my parents and convinced them to send me to creative writing summer camp. Maybe that qualifies more as praise than feedback, but it was wild to have someone believe in me that hard and go to bat for me just because she saw some potential in there somewhere.

#ask game #i deleted and rewrote that last response probably seventeen times #really giving away my age with that christopher pike answer #how dare you with some of these questions

[sleepyowlwrites]

seven snippets, seven people II

this time blasted from orbit by dear Timespace. @artdecosupernova-writing

it's been ages since I even thought about Anxiety Story, let alone looked at it, so here are seven snippets from it to remind myself and let you know that this wip exists. I'm not going to be working on it, but it's out there. just chilling.

from draft 1 - Aiden and Ree's first meeting:

He'd only taken two steps when a voice startled him out of his blank, repressed thoughts. Aiden looked up from his feet to see the owner of the voice, a girl around his own age, hair fluffing in the wind, a slightly concerned expression on her face.

"Hey," she said again, taking steps to close the gap when Aiden didn't move. "Aren't you cold?"

Aiden simply nodded.

The girl paused before breaking out into a warm smile. "It's December and there's snow. Why aren't you wearing a coat?"

Aiden opted for shrugging his way out actually answering.

The girl's smile quickly turned into a frown as she observed Aiden shiver for a moment. Then, to Aiden's complete consternation, she took off her own coat. When she moved forward to drape it around Aiden's shoulders, the latter backed away.

"You don't need to give me yours," Aiden said, surprising himself with the steadiness of his words.

from draft 1 - Aiden denies just having had a panic attack

"Aiden, was that a panic attack? Do you get panic attacks?"

Aiden gulped at his tea and forced himself to breathe deeply. Ree was nice. Ree was warm. Ree was caring. She was safe. She was safe, right? "It's…you're safe, right?" He found himself asking out loud.

Ree's face was unreadable. Aiden thought he saw surprise, disappointment and maybe even anger before a mask fell down over her eyes and she was quiet for a moment, a very long moment from Aiden's perspective.

"Yes," Ree said finally, in that same gentle tone she had used the entire time. "You're safe with me."

Aiden didn't know how he was so sure that Ree was telling the truth, but there was something in the way she sat, the way she stared straight into Aiden's eyes, the way she had been nothing but kind since he'd first met her, all those somethings seemed to say that he could trust Ree, and he desperately wanted to trust Ree. So he did.

"Yeah," he breathed out softly. "I-I get panic attacks sometimes. But that was just anxiety before."

from draft 1 - meet Theo! my beloved

The door opened to reveal a friendly-looking but totally confused guy with messy hair like he'd just woken up. "Uh, Ree?"

Ree walked inside without answering, heading straight for the living room to place Aiden gently onto the couch. The guy followed, one hand scratching his head as he continued to look bewildered. Aiden struggled to unzip his coat with cold-swollen fingers; not to mention that he was also rather on edge about meeting another stranger. Ree took over and deftly helped him get the snow-covered thing off.

"The couch is gonna get all wet," the messy-haired stranger said.

Blushing even with his rosy cheeks, Aiden wanted to hide, but Ree was already tugging his boots off and he settled for staring at the top of Ree's head.

"The couch doesn't matter," Ree replied, placing Aiden's boots to the side and pointing at them. "Put these by the heater, please."

Messy-hair did as he was told.

Aiden went to rub his hands together and hissed, forgetting for a moment about the scrapes on his left palm. Ree immediately reached for his hand and inspected it. "Your knee is worse. What about your hip, does it feel bruised?"

Nodding seemed to be the only thing he could make himself do, so that's what Aiden did. He noticed his knee bleeding for the first time.

"All right. Theo!” Ree called over her shoulder.

Messy-hair came back over. "Should I get him some sweatpants?"

"Yeah, and start the water for tea, would you?"

"Sure." Messy-hair - Theo, apparently - disappeared around the hall corner.

"Aiden," Ree murmured, pulling off Aiden's damp socks.

"Yeah?" Aiden finally croaked out a real word.

"Theo is perfectly harmless. You don't have to talk to him if you don't want to. Can you stand up? You can change in the bathroom and then I'll take care of your cuts. Okay?"

from draft 1 - THEO

“Hey, Aiden,” Theo said suddenly.

“Yeah?” He looked sideways at Theo.

“It’s Thursday.”

“Yes.”

“I’m leaving on Saturday.”

Aiden stopped walking when Theo did, blinking several times as he processed this information. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah.” Theo pulled them to sit down on a bench. The surface was cold under Aiden’s jeans, making him shiver. Theo grabbed his legs and pulled them up onto his lap, keeping his other arm around his shoulders. Aiden leaned against the other’s warmth and tried to keep hold of the happiness he was just feeling.

“I don’t live too far away, so I could come and visit on the weekends sometimes, but I’ve got a job and my parents will miss me. School will be starting on Monday, right? You know Ree would let you stay at her apartment if you wanted.”

“I couldn’t do that,” Aiden protested. “And it would be farther to walk to class.”

“On the weekends then, just stay with her on the weekends. Aiden?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve been happy, right? You’ve been happy with us?”

“Ye-yeah, I have.” Aiden burrowed his face deeper into Theo’s chest. “You’ve taken such good care of me. I’ve never been so happy.”

from draft 2 - nicknames

“Teddy,” Ree said as soon as the boys arrived in the kitchen. Aiden noticed how her hands were clasped under her chin and her eyes were hopeful.

“You’re not mad at me and I did take the garbage out last night, just like you asked me to. Can we stick to proper names, please?” Theo collapsed into a chair with his limbs sprawled out everywhere. He was always collapsing places, wherever he sat or lay down it was like he had suddenly lost all strength. Aiden knew that this was just for dramatics. He swallowed a smile. He knew that.

Ree turned away from the two of them and took up her knife again, prompting Aiden to look away. “What’s improper about Teddy?”

Theo fixed his eyes on Ree back with a baleful expression that Aiden got the feeling Ree would know about even facing the other way. “My name is Theo, dear cousin.”

“Don’t start-”

“It’s short for Theodore, a full proper name, making Theo my proper nickname. You can call me Teddy only during those few and occasional moments of heightened emotion such as when you are feeling especially grateful for my existence or when you’re trying to make an important point. You can’t call me an improper nickname and expect me to just agree to being the trashcan in from the road, or whatever else you wanted from me.” Theo raised his shoulders and head into a lofty position. “Of course, I don’t want you to call me by my full name, because it’s too long, and too proper to be comfortable just between friends.”

Ree’s whole body drooped. “Yes, alright, I’m sorry.”

“I refuse to called by a burdensome, properly grownup name when I am clearly not quite grownup, but at the very least you might refrain from addressing me by my childhood nickname in front of company.” Theo winked at Aiden. “And I gave the full explanation for Aiden’s benefit, not because I think you don’t already know this.”

Ree glanced at Theo over her shoulder with exasperation. “Will you bringing the trashcan in from the road, Theo?”

“I will later, Ree.”

from draft 2 - SADNESS

Aiden started to bite his lip as an automatic response to various stimuli, the common denominator being that they scared him. Between the social fears that kept him moving, the night terrors that kept him lifeless and the everyday anxiety that threatened to rip him apart at any given moment, Aiden found himself thankful for any second when it didn't hurt to breathe.

Breathing itself became a gift rather than a natural action. The simple intake and exhale of air was a precious feeling. Far too often it was accompanied by a heart screaming against his ribcage, begging to be let loose, trying to climb up his throat and abandon him altogether. Aiden got used to shaking hands and interminable headaches that somehow never hurt worse that the acknowledgment of all the fears that were causing his pain.

That omission by itself seemed to mock him, to sneer at his pathetic excuse for a life. Without his regularly scheduled classes and irregularly scheduled and much more frequent anxiety attacks, Aiden had absolutely nothing, so he found himself being grateful for both. In a sad degree of resignation, Aiden held onto both his meager respites and his worst enemies to keep him sane.

He had no idea how long he could last like this. Breathing couldn't possibly remain a chore forever and not end up sailing out of reach one day. He didn't want to think about the very real possibility that very soon, the last remnants of his tattered will to live might just give out on him. Aiden hated nothing more than the idea of death winning a second time. Every day, it got just a little bit more real. It scared him, just like everything scared him and he was always so, so tired.

Days blended together and homework was completed with a kind of feverish dedication. Tears dripped onto his pillow in the dark of early morning and stung his eyes in the late afternoon drag. Monotony was a blessing; breathing was a burden.

Aiden scribbled his fears into his notebooks and tore out the pages before they could torment him the next time he looked. There would be no salvation, he knew. There would only be despair. He curled under his blankets with arms wrapped around himself, feeling even more fragile in his exhaustion.

No promise could save him. There would only be pain. Aiden grasped onto the realness of it and fell asleep with blood still painting his lips.

from draft 2 - sorry to leave you on a downer but this wip is an overall not happy time hence why it's called "anxiety story"

Aiden answered his brother's phone call on New Year's Day and listened to him talk about what he'd been up to, where he was working next, how the guy who roomed next to him always gave him shifty glances in the morning for apparently no reason, when he thought he might be able to come visit Aiden at college, the girl who tried to set him up with every other girl in existence and nothing ever worked out. Adam just kept talking and Aiden just kept listening. When a moment of silence lingered, Aiden didn't try to talk. He had nothing to say and he knew Adam wouldn't ask. They weren't having a conversation. After one too many heartbeats in the quiet, Adam would start talking again, never bringing up old memories.

Aiden was grateful for that. There was only one thing either of them could say to the other that had any actual weight and Aiden didn't want it to be said. They both already knew it to be true. Leaving it out of the picture didn't make it hurt any less, but at least it didn't hurt any more than it had to.

It had been a year since "you can't leave me."

They'd both left. It had been a promise; now it was just a lie.

"I told him that I was planning to come see you around spring break and I think it's gonna work out but I can't prom- plan on anything." Background sounds filtered over the line. Aiden pushed an acknowledging hum out of his throat.

Another long silence played out like a discordant melody with Adam playing the uneven drums and Aiden's hands acting as a synth on his jeans. Eventually, with apparently no more news to tell him and as yet no verbal response from his brother, Adam sighed noisily into the receiver.

"I'll talk to you later, okay? I love you."

Aiden clenched his fists so hard he could feel his nails imprinting sad lyrics onto his palms. "Love you too," he managed, his voice hoarse from disuse and cracking when he tried to say "goodbye."

Adam didn't push anything else out of him and simply hung up.

"I miss you," Aiden whispered to the stale air of his dorm room, still afraid of the words but needing to make them real. He did miss his brother. He did love him. Just, after five months and five phone calls, Adam seemed to become more of a phantom every day. It would be just like Aiden to miss something that wasn't there, to fear the loss of something that wasn't real, to ache to hold the intangible.

You can't leave me.

It was the last in a series of shattered promises, and Aiden didn't want to think about it anymore.

well, thanks for making it to the end or at least skimming through! @zmwrites you know what I want @rains-inky-mind @ellatholmes @uraniumwriting @tananaphone @blind-the-winds OR ANYBODY

postscript: I started writing this wip in 2016, and started on the rewrite/draft 2 in late 2018, and worked on it sporadically throughout 2019. it's been a while and my writing style has changed. it's fascinating to see. anyway, sort of sorry for the depressing content.

#tag game #wip: anxiety story

[thornescratch]

I fear it might be too much to ask you about all the hockey rpf wips 😅 but I’d love to hear you talk about any of them!!

Aww, you're sweet. Have some brief background summaries on a couple of them that no one asked for on their own.

Honey Hole - I woke myself up in the middle of the night to write "ALEX OVECHKIN A/B/O HONEY HOLE????" on a post-it note some time ago, and have not known peace since. Ever since Thatcher Demko used that phrase, it's been bouncing around in my head. Anyway, Alex Ovechkin is the NHL's most nontraditional omega. It's a weird story that might actually absorb another one I as writing at one point, which was something like "the five rookies who took Ovi out to dinner and found out by dessert he was already in a long term relationship with someone else." I think it was inspired by a picture of Ovi out to dinner with Barkov where Ovi has a shit-eating grin on his face and Barkov looks like someone just kicked his puppy.

the brotherhood of the traveling sweat-jeans- exactly what it sounds like on the title, for once. Inspired by Alex Ovechkin’s magical sweat jeans (sweans, if you will) and the fact Karl Alner casually dropped in an interview that various members of the Caps like trying on Ovi’s bonkers outfits now and again. So it’s about how the sweans make their rounds throughout the Caps over the years and it gives whoever wears them magical powers or luck or whatever.

Soulmate first words tattoo bullshit - This was something I started to write for a fic exchange and then dropped because I didn’t think it really fit what my assigned person wanted. So this was a take on that trope that the first words your soulmate says to you are on your body somewhere, which would make Nicklas Backstrom’s very interesting, given that they’d be “The Washington Capitals are pleased to select Nicklas Backstrom.” So Nicky grows up knowing who he’s going to get drafted to, but also vaguely weirded out that it’s likely to be, uh, the GM (even though GMGM was a silver fox) and then SURPRISE, it’s Ovi. And then there are misunderstandings because the first thing Nicky says to Ovi is something generic like “hi” and for a while, neither of them know who’s on first re: soulmates.

Behold, a man - Ovi and Nicky accidentally transform into chickens (as you do) and Brooks Orpik reluctantly deals with it. Title is from the Diogenes quote. I started writing this to cheer Weaglerock up about something-- probably playoffs-- and because every year I rent chickens for a thing, and it provides some very useful firsthand research.

Here’s a bit from Behold, a man:

"Hey, hi, so like, O and Backy turned into chickens, it's not my fault," Willy said, standing on his front step with a large cardboard box in his arms.

"It's his fault," Burky said from somewhere behind Willy.

"Totally Whip fault," someone else—Kuzy? said, also from behind Willy, who took up a lot of space on a normal basis and even more so when he was apparently hauling boxes around. One arm poked out from behind him and waved wildly, and then there was an unmistakable giggle, so it was definitely Kuzy. "Batya, let us in."

"Fuck you, it's not!" Willy said, and then hoisted the cardboard box up slightly. The box peeped at Brooks loudly, and he jerked back in surprise. "Here, let us in, lemme just explain," Willy added, and then Brooks had three—no, four, no, five, Djoos and Orlov were apparently quietly lurking at the back of the pack as well—teammates stampeding into his house like they were trying to outrun the cloud of youthful indiscretion that Brooks could just fucking see hanging over them.

"Curse my slow door-slamming skills," he said to his now-empty front step, and then closed the door and took a deep breath in order to prepare for whatever the hell was going on.

Most of them were all in his kitchen. Willy had put the box down on the kitchen table and he and Burky were in his pantry; Kuzy was looking in his fridge; he didn't see Djoos; and Snarls, bless his heart, was the only one being polite and standing near one of the chairs, clearly waiting for permission to sit down. Brooks made a mental note to tell Ovi about it, since Ovi believed in positive reinforcement when it came to nurturing the kids, and would probably buy Dima a new car or something.

The box on the table was still peeping. Before Brooks could deal with that, it was drowned out by an even louder noise, which was apparently directly related to Kuzy pawing through his vegetable crisper drawer.

"Batya! It's terrible!" Kuzy said, leaning out of the fridge and brandishing an eggplant at him.

"All of his crackers are wholegrain stuff," Burky called out from the pantry, muffled. "He doesn't have any chips."

"He's got two bags of Skinny Pop, though," Willy added. "Original and White Cheddar."

"Everything so healthy," Kuzy said, making a face. "It's terrible but I guess also good. I know we make best choice to come here."

Brooks took the eggplant away from Kuzy and slapped it against his palm once with a pleasantly solid noise. It had some good heft. "The last person who isn't sitting down at the table quietly in the next fifteen seconds gets to explain to Barry why they have to go on LTIR because someone beat them senseless with an eggplant."

"Like, a real eggplant, or is this a dick joke," Willy said, leaning out of the pantry before his eyes went wide. "Oh."

Kuzy was already opening his mouth with that glint in his eye again, so Brooks pointed the eggplant at him. "Sit. Down. Where's Juicer?"

"I was using the bathroom, please don't hit me," Djoos said meekly, slipping back into the kitchen and sitting down immediately, hands folded on top of the table neatly like a good little d-man. Brooks made another mental note to let Nicky know. Nicky had his own nurturing system for the kids, though that usually ran along the lines of a series of slightly less murderous than usual glares that he used for those currently in his favor.

"Can we bring some Skinny Pop?" Burky asked. "Actually, can we bring both bags?"

"I mean, actually you wouldn't really need to explain so much—" Willy said, and then Burky wiggled past him out of the narrow pantry doors with a bag stowed under each arm, and dove for the table, yelling out, "Willy's last one, hit him, Batya, hit him!"

"Hey!" Willy said indignantly, rushing after him and almost knocking Kuzy over in the process.

There was a briefly chaotic interval like a particularly violent game of musical chairs, but it ended with everyone sitting down in a chair, even if Burky and Djoos were sharing one. Less sharing, maybe, than Burky getting physically dumped out of two chairs in quick succession by Willy and Dima, and then Burky climbing into Djoos's lap, planting himself there, and winding his arms around Djoos's neck despite Djoos's wide-eyed expression of panic, but Brooks decided he couldn't afford to be too particular about it, and Djoos was just going to have to learn to desensitize himself to Burky-induced boners and personal space issues.

The box was still peeping.

#meme #writing #fanfiction #hockey RPF #Brooks Orpik #Alexander Ovechkin #Nicklas Backstrom #Tom Wilson #Andre Burakovsky #Evgeny Kuznetsov #Christian Djoos #Dmitry Orlov #Washington Capitals

[magic-is-something-we-create]

This or that: Writer's edition tag!

Thank you for the tag, @pens-swords-stuff!! i love these kinds of games so much :D

this post is long, so apologies in advance! that said, i'll tag @writeblrfantasy, @ettawritesnstudies, @ren-c-leyn, and @enchanted-lightning-aes, as well as anyone else who wants to play!! as always, absolutely 0 pressure to participate if you dont want <3

(explanations for choices are optional, i am just a wordy bitch and want to Speak At Length about many things)

- historical or futuristic

as much as i write fantasy, i LOVE a speculative tech-based setting way more than i love a historical or pseudo-historical setting - which is uh. why my main fantasy world does in fact have a cyberpunk corner and Heavily Implied To Be Aliens pantheon.

- opening or closing chapter

the closing chapter is ALWAYS one that ive been champing at the bit to write for the whole book, and its always so satisfying to finally get out on the page

- light+fluffy or dark+gritty

case in point: whispers and the copious amounts of various horror, gore, and downright gut-punch scenes in millennium saga

- animal companion or found family

bonus points for the found family if theres an animal companion of course, but as much as i love wrench, she is a) not the most important member of the party and b) also a robot so i dont think she counts as an animal anyway outside of andy's dubious claims to fitting under the "dragon" definition

- horror or romance

i will write 1000 instances of "what the FUCK" for every page i struggle through writing romance as someone who does not experience attraction

- hard or soft magic system

I LOVE MAKING PUZZLES OUT OF WORLDS AND MAGIC AND STORIES. THATS IT THATS THE POST

- standalone or series

surprise! TMS may be a series and my long-running main WIP, but uh. 90% of my concepts are standalones. and tbh i like writing standalones more because i dont have to struggle with multiple books of plot and characters fitting together

- one project at a time or always juggling multiple

while i have a bajillion ideas, i struggle to get any work done if im not 100% invested in the story at hand, so i work on one at a time (while allowing myself to switch if i need to of course; but if i do switch, it's never just a few days. its months, and often seeing something to completion)

- one award winner or one best seller

honestly? id rather be recognized for my hard work in creating the characters/story via an award than via a bajillion people reading it,,, though theoretically if its winning an award at least enough people have read it to a) nominate it and b) vote for it, so? best of both worlds kinda?

- fantasy or scifi

YOU THINK I, GENRE BLENDER GEORG, COULD CHOOSE--

- character or setting description

please god. my beta readers didnt know what color embers hair was until chapter 13 because i couldnt fuckin figure out how to put a description of it in naturally. ill take describing massive trees and open ocean and vast plains of ice and cluttered rooms and stained glass windows any day but dont make me describe the narrator or i swear to fuck

- first or final draft

its the puzzle box gremlin in me like "NYEHEHEHE THE PIECES. THEY ARE THERE. PEOPLE CAN SOLVE THEM. NEYHE" and that simply cannot happen in the first draft

- love triangle in everything or no romantic arcs

we write polyamory, one (1) enemies-to-lovers, or no romance at all in this house (it feels so alienating to write no matter what but if its for the story ill do just about anything)

- constant sandstorm or rainstorm

can i say blizzard? i want to say blizzard. same "dont go outside or you'll die" as sandstorm but less worrying about water and also more excuses for the characters to light a fire and Talk About The Horrors or just commit arson

#braindumps.txt #tag game #aboutthewarlord

[bylightofdawn]

Totally not a WIP Sunday I mean Monday I mean Tuesday post.

Because I was so annoyed after fighting with tumblr for hours yesterday I kinda forgot to post a snippet for WIP Sunday.

This was technically written today so it wouldn't count anyway but I'm amusing myself writing Jango and Myles's big brother endlessly teasing his annoyed little brother energy so I'm going to post a snippet today anyway.

Only thing you need to know is Myles and Mace had a very fun not-a-date lunch and they figured out they clicked together on an interpersonal level. And this takes place after that lunch

As always, this is SUPER rough and has not even begun to be spellchecked or grammar checked. Also, I know kad'ika is not real Mandoa but it is so obnoxious sounding that I couldn't not use it.

EDIT: Ended up taking out the joke about a Falleen Mercenary and all the super sticky consent issues with Legends whole sex pheromones thing. It was funny but also kinda a bit of a yikes. This is why we edit things and nothing is promised to end up in the final draft. Pffft

From that point on, their conversation meandered on, covering a surprising number of topics. Mace was actually an interesting conversationalist Myles was discovering and it was surprisingly easy to talk to him.

Outside of Plo Koon, he’d never had much experience dealing with Jedi but Mace definitely wasn’t anything like how he’d imagined a Jedi to be. 

He was funny in a quietly understated, dry humor sort of way but there was definitely a bit of mischief in him despite his attempts at being a staid Jedi. And Stars have mercy on him, he’d never been able to resist a puzzle. 

By the time they finished with their lunch, he was surprised to realize he was sad their time was over. As they walked back towards the Halls of Healing, Mace pointed out various features and things he thought might interest Myles. 

When they reached Jango’s door, the Jedi paused there with a curious look on his face and Myles found himself wondering if he wasn’t the only one who regretted their time was at an end. 

“Thanks for the meal, I appreciate it.” 

“It was my pleasure,” Mace said with one of those barely there smiles of his. 

“We should do this again sometime. Maybe somewhere on this planet there is a place you can find a real Mando meal.”  Myles found himself suggesting suddenly before his brain re-engaged and realized what he’d said. Judging by the surprised look on the Jedi’s face, he had not been expecting it either.

“After your description of Mandalorian food, I’m not sure I would survive the experience.” 

“You are made of sterner stuff, I think you will survive.” 

“I appreciate your confidence in my ability to handle weapons grade spice levels. I saw how much hot sauce you put on your food.” 

“I mean, watching you try and maintain a calm and collected front while your mouth was on fire did sound like a funny sight but I am open to the idea of other food venues I suppose.” 

“So the truth comes out.” Amusement gleamed in the Jedi’s dark eyes when he said that. “I think I would enjoy that. I enjoyed our talks today, Myles. It has been an enlightening experience.”

“Hopefully it’s been a good sort of enlightening.” Myles teased and they exchanged numbers for their coms with the promise to touch base sometime soon to iron out the details of their dinner date. 

With that, Mace left him with a polite nod and Myles let himself into Jango’s room, fully expecting to find the boy asleep. Instead, he sat there looking grumpy and unamused. 

“Seriously?” The teenager asked disbelieving. 

“What?”

“Did you just ask a kriffing Jedi on a date?”

“Did I?” The fact Myles had to ask himself that in a moment of panic didn’t exactly offer reassurance. “How do you even know that?”

“These doors have terrible soundproofing. That’s beside the point, a Jedi.”

“It’s not a date.” 

“Uh huh, I hear that tone of yours. You only use that when you’re trying to sweet talk someone into bed.”

“Okay, first off I think you are skipping like a million steps. Second off, I don’t sound like that when I’m trying to talk someone into bed as you so rudely put it. And third off, even if I was, it’s none of your business.” 

“There has to be something in the water here.” Jango said despaired. 

“What does that even mean?”

“First Jaster and now you? It has to be something in the water that causes perfectly reasonable Mandalorians to take leave of their senses and start sniffing after Jedi like an aak dog in heat.” 

“I would not suggest saying that in front of your father to begin with.” Myles pointed out with a frown. “But besides that, it’s just dinner. He’s actually fun to talk to, and yes he is quite attractive so falling into bed with him wouldn’t be the worst thing ever. I like to think I am doing my part to further diplomatic relations between Mandalore and the Jedi Order.”

“That sounds like a load of osik. But whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night.”

“It’s really not that serious, Jan’ika. Just because your gett'se haven’t dropped yet and you have no idea what to do with your kad’ika doesn’t mean other people can’t enjoy quality time with other adults without it needing to be complicated. But again, I still think you are kind of skipping a million steps between now and there.” 

“I hate you so much.” Jango groaned and threw a pillow at Myles head which the older Mandalorian caught easily. 

“I know you really love me deep down, it’s okay. Your secret is safe with me, verd’ika” 

“I’m going to get out of this bed and kick your shebs from one side of this Temple to the next.”

“As much as I would love to see you try I am pretty sure you’d end up flat on your face instead.” 

“Fine, the moment I am released from this awful hospital bed, I am gonna do just that.” 

“I look forward to you trying.” 

“Ugh. You are the actual worst, do you know that?” 

“I think I’m pretty awesome actually.”

“Nope, just the literal worst. I didn’t think you could somehow top that mess with the Dathomiri witch.”

“In my defense, how was I supposed to know she was Nightsister?  I think that still takes the cake for the worst sexual decision of my young life. Honestly, a Jedi seems halfway tame in comparison.”

Jango just shook his head and rolled his eyes heavenward as though asking the universe for patience.

#el writes #does it count as wip sunday if I posed it at 2:00 on a monday/tuesday? #I do what I want I guess? #star wars fanfiction snippet #jango fett #myles the mandalorian #mace windu #I love how Myles has gone from 'oh no he's hot' to 'I would totally tap that ass' in .5 seconds flat #I apologize to anyone who looks at these tags expecting to find anything redeemable in my shitposting

[bluemoon-fever]

i put a spell on you (6) | a. barber

MINORS DNI

pairing: andy barber x black!witch!reader

word count: 3.8k

warnings: witchcraft themes/elements (witch hunters, witches, etc), heavy angst, mentions of trauma and minor character deaths, implied mental health crisis (anxiety attack and breakdown), divorce proceedings, mentions of a deceased parent, mentions of shitty parents, mentions of prison, mentions of violence, mentions of threats, slow burn, william barber (he's a whole warning), vulgar language, light fluff

A/N: here is part six! this took multiple drafts, multiple re-writes, and general procrastination to be here. i based andy's interaction with billy off of episode 5 of defending jacob, but it's not needed to know what's going on. i think everyone (including myself) will enjoy part seven which is andy and the reader's first 'date' and i'm currently working on it. as always, thanks for reading and any feedback! it's much appreciated!

divider by @firefly-graphics / gif by @ransomflanagan

DO NOT COPY, REPOST, STEAL, OR TRANSLATE THIS OR ANY OF MY WORKS.

As much as you wanted to avoid Andy Barber, it was near impossible. Your neighbor who was married to a murderous witch hunter had unknowingly saved you from her and kissed you. The situation was messy and unethical. Though Andy brushed off your encounter as stopping your panic attack, you both knew that kiss was more than that. The embrace you received from him in his study, the care he showed for you, and the connection you felt with him showed otherwise. But he was married to Laurie and they had a son. You couldn’t break that up, and after your harrowing conversation with Laurie, you wanted to stay far away from anything Barber-related.

But Andy had other plans. He was worried sick about you. He was embroiled in his own, mundane chaos, but you were in the back of his mind. He wanted to reach out and let you know how he felt about you and see if you were okay. But he couldn’t. Jacob was taking the separation particularly hard, and he was avoiding both of his parents. Every effort Andy made with his son ended in failure as Jacob didn’t want to hear about his parents’ failed marriage. Jacob knew his parents weren’t happy, but now facing the reality of divorce and not seeing his parents together really took a toll on him.

After talking with Laurie, they decided to give Jacob some space, allow him to come to terms with his new reality and then come to them when he was ready. Jacob asked to spend the weekend at a friend’s house which Andy obliged. Laurie had found a place across town and had finished packing the last of her stuff. The weekend would give Andy time to clear his head and settle loose ends. First on his list was to see you.

Your car hadn’t moved since Andy dropped you off at home. You hadn’t answered any of his texts and calls. When Saturday rolled around, he decided he was going to check on you. He wanted you to know nothing changed about his care for you. Was he scared and perplexed about you being a witch? Absolutely. But he would work through. He’d work through worse in his life.

Around 9am, he walked over and knocked softly on your door. He heard Harris shout through the door she’d answer before hearing your soft voice say you could handle it. Maybe you detected it was him, but when you opened the door, the look of surprise on your face showed otherwise.

“Hi,” you said, sounding so small.

“Hi,” Andy responded. “I wanted to check on you. How are you doing?”

“I’m, uh, fine. What are you doing here?” you asked. You wrapped your arms around yourself to shield yourself from the chill of outside.

“I wanted to check on you,” he answered, rubbing the back of his head nervously. “Could we talk?”

You looked back inside before turning to Andy biting your lip. “I’m a little busy right now.”

“What about tonight?” Andy blurted out. The inner want for you had taken control of him momentarily. The rational part of him had to work quickly, giving you a safe reason to want to see him. He could imagine the anxiety you were dealing with, and he didn’t want to add any more to it. “Maybe dinner? I know a place outside of town. It’s nice.”

Your breath hitched. You were nervous to go out with him. What about Laurie? Did Andy expect you to eat dinner with him and his murderous wife?

“Laurie and I aren’t-we separated,” he continued. “I understand if you’re uncomfortable-“

“I’ll come,” you answered. Andy felt relief when you agreed to it. To you, you felt like you were walking into the lion’s den. Hearing Andy say he was separated from Laurie almost made you dizzy. Was it you that caused it? Did he know? You had so many questions that needed answering, but now, you had other things to settle before you could focus on Andy.

“I’ll pick you up around 7?”

“Sure. See you then, Andy.” You closed the door, letting out a deep exhale. Harris was before you, looking at you with concern.

“Are you sure you’re okay to go?” she asked.

“Not at all. But I need to know what he knows.”

You and Andy both had busy schedules before your dinner date, if you could call it that. Since you reunited with Harris, you hadn’t had time to make a visit to the woman who raised you. Last time you saw her was before you ever met Curtis. There was so much you needed to tell her about, but given her state, you decided to keep your conversation about your life minimum and focus on spending time with the person who actually acted like a mother.

When Harris pulled up at the facility, your heart dropped. The building was sterile and lifeless, the exact opposite of the person you were visiting. Harris held your hand as you entered the building. You both signed at the desk and the receptionist guided you how to reach her room. You took the elevator which smelled like mold. Harris clicked on the number 4 which barely lit up. You jolted as the elevator began to rise.

When the doors slowly creaked open, you and Harris walked out into a common room filled with people of all ages. There were tables of people playing cards or chess, a man doing a crossword puzzle, and a woman reading through a magazine. Harris led you pass them towards the windows where there were a series of freshly blooming plants. As you got closer, you could make out the faint scents of lavender, jasmine, honeysuckle, and citrus. A woman stood with a rag and spray bottle, cleaning the leaves of the plants.

Before you could reach out to tap her shoulder, she turned with a bright smile. “Harris and Y/N! I’ve missed you!”

Your aunt Hazel pulled you into a tight hug, laughing giddily at the sight of you. When she pulled back, she studied you and the changes in your body. Last she saw you, you looked more like the little niece she raised and nurtured. Now, you look more mature, fully grown into your features.

“I missed you too, Aunt Hazel,” you told her. “Are these your plants?”

“Of course. You know I couldn’t go anywhere without my babies,” she told you. She finished wiping off the last of her monstera plant before placing her spray bottle and rag down. “It’s been so long, my girl. Harris has told me so much, but nothing compares to seeing you in person. You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”

Your cheeks warmed. Aunt Hazel always knew what to say to make you feel special. She had that true maternal spirit about her.

“I finally got her to move in with me again,” Harris chirped. “She’s helping me run the store.”

“Oh, how wonderful. I always knew you two would find your way back to each other. I’m glad to see my girls together again.” Before she could continue, her face changed. She glanced at you, softly grabbing your hand. As her eyes peered into yours, you saw her expression change. Harris watched as her mom studied you and tensed.

“Girls,” your aunt began, “let’s go back to my room for some privacy.” She led you to her room as she held onto your hand. Harris followed automatically.

When you made your way back to your aunt’s suite, you took in her room. It was much different than when she was first admitted. The room was so lifeless and bland. Now, it was lively and colorful. Bright paintings in warm and jewel tones adorned the wall. There was a plant in every nook and corner. A large colorful braided rug hid the white tile, and your aunt had an eclectic mix of colorful furniture to make the house really match her. She had made this space her own. Rather than smell moldy like the rest of the building, it smelled of a blend of vanilla, coconut, musk, and jasmine.

Your aunt let go of your hand before moving to close the door. She lowered her voice as she spoke to you. “Something is wrong,” she whispered. “I can feel fear radiate off you both.”

You looked at Harris. Harris was always good at speaking up when you both got in trouble. It was harder for Harris to lie to her mother since her mother was a clairvoyant and empath, and her connection with her daughter was extra strong. With you, there was some distance, the same distance she felt with your mother.

“We need your help with something, Mom,” Harris began. “We’ve been threatened.”

“By who?” she answered quickly.

Harris hesitated before answering, “Witch hunters.”

Your aunt wanted to yelp in fear, but she simply took a deep breath. She shut her curtains, blocking all natural light before moving to her kitchen. She gestured for you both to join her on the rug, putting a finger in front of her lip. Once you were on the rug, she removed her finger.

“Under this rug is a protection sigil. No one can hear us unless I want them to. Start from the beginning.”

Harris looked at you. While she was aware of Curtis, that’s all she was. She knew he was threatened and now he was dead. You dreaded having to relive the events of it, but only you could give your aunt the answers she needed.

As you slowly and painfully told her what happened with Curtis and then what happened after moving here, she began pacing on the rug, lost in thought as you went on. When your voice grew too shaky and you thought you were going to drop to the ground, Harris grabbed your hand. Your aunt looked towards the kitchen, moving her hands to guide a cup of tea towards you. You took the tea and took a slow sip.

“I should’ve never left you,” your aunt said simply. “I had some control over the situation, but I should’ve stayed, protected you girls better I did-than I am.”

“Mom, it’s not your fault,” Harris told her.

“It is! I promised your mother to keep you safe, and I failed. You both have a target on my back, and it’s all my fault.”

“No,” you told her. “No. She failed me. She should be here to protect. She should’ve been there to protect me to begin with.”

“Y/N,” your aunt began. “You know she would’ve if she could’ve.”

“She could’ve. And she didn’t want to. She didn’t choose me. You chose me because she gave you no choice!” Your hands balled into fists.

Harris attempted to calm you, but you were too far gone. To hear your aunt blame herself for your predicament made you fume. Your aunt couldn’t control becoming sick. Your aunt couldn’t control being sent here to heal. Your aunt couldn’t control anything Laurie planned for you.

“But neither could your mother,” she answered. Along with being a clairvoyant and empath, your aunt was a damn good telepath. “I know you hate to hear it, but there are a lot of similarities between you and your mother. She was in danger too. They threatened you, and she couldn’t bear to see you hurt. That’s why she left you with me. She didn’t want to, trust me, but she had no choice.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked. “She always had a choice.”

“Witch hunters threatened to hurt you. It was you or her. She didn’t want to lose you, baby. If she would’ve stayed, who knows what would’ve happened to you. She couldn’t control anything. She wasn’t giving you up to be selfish. She was backed into a corner.”

“She could’ve stayed and fought.”

“She couldn’t have, Y/N. When she left you with me, she left the last of her magic with you. She couldn’t do anything to save you. That’s why she left.”

Your heart sunk to your feet. You placed the tea down on the coffee table. You couldn’t believe what you heard. How could you? You spent all of your life believing your mother abandoned you to focus on herself and save herself. But she didn’t leave you to fend for yourself. She gave you the last of her magic before her demise. She spent years running far from you, not because she didn’t want you, but because she wanted you so badly she couldn’t bear to lose you like you lost Curtis.

Tears streamed down your face. Your aunt Hazel and Harris pulled you into their embrace, rubbing your back and soothing you as you let everything out. After what felt like hours of you breaking down, your aunt softly pulled your face in her hands. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. But we can’t let this break us. Your mom didn’t want this to break you.”

“I was terrible to her. I said and thought so many terrible things about her-”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know. She made me not tell you until you needed to know. And now is the time for you to know. You have so much strength and power within you. Those people who want to hurt you and Harris have no idea what they’re dealing with.”

“How can we stop them?” you asked, wiping the remaining tears from your cheeks.

“Your mom left me her spellbook to give to you when the time came. It’s more magic in there than I ever taught you. She was working on a spell to protect us from witch hunters before she gave up her magic. She thinks you might be able to finish it. Do you want it?”

You looked at Harris. She waited with baited breath for your response, giving you a small smile. “Yes, but I have one stipulation,” you told your aunt, not turning your gaze from Harris.

Andy had expected his day to go by smoother than it did. After you agreed to dinner, he called the restaurant and scheduled a reservation. It was normally super busy and reservations had to have been made weeks in advance, but Andy was a friend of the owner. Whenever Andy wanted a table, he got one.

After that was situated, he went to his closet to plan what to wear. Without Laurie’s things, it felt so barren, but it was a barrenness he was comfortable with. He wasn’t there when Laurie cleared everything out, and perhaps, that made it easier on him. The situation still felt strange to him. Years ago, he saw him and Laurie growing old together and couldn’t imagine life without her. Now, every time she crossed his mind, his stomach recoiled. Things went wrong so quickly, and they both saw sides of each other they had never seen before. Andy didn’t really know the woman he married all those years before and he still didn’t, and she didn’t know him.

After figuring out an outfit, Andy left his house to face a monster before he could enjoy the rest of the night with you: his father.

Andy hadn’t seen his father since he was taken away from their home. His father was a monster, a jabberwock that while restrained went undefeated.

When Andy turned 18, he made sure to erase any public fact that William Barber was his father. He’s not even sure if he can call him that. William Barber was nothing more than a sperm donor to Andy.

Last time Andy saw his father, he was a boy. His father was every bit of the monster he was. There was nothing in his eyes. Though Andy’s experience with his father as a boy (if he could remember it) was negative, it sent a chill up his spine to see no soul in the man’s eyes.

The correctional facility he was held in was like a labyrinth. Guards were all around, and the walls were so high that no matter who you were, you were bound to feel small. Andy went through the standard procedure and protocol, stating his name, being patted down to make sure he didn’t carry contraband, the whole nine yards. As he walked into the room, a large barrier separated him from other inmates. He saw marks from where someone had attempted to break through. A woman sat, presumably talking to her husband. He was gruff looking, but nothing compared to the man Andy was going to see.

Andy heard the screech of the door open. His father walked in, the same emotionless demeanor that made Andy’s blood run cold. Whenever Andy spoke to his father, it was through his attorney. He didn’t tell his father anything. He didn’t know about his family or where he lived. But when Jacob was accused, everything changed. His father found out and wanted to be more involved. He wanted to find out more about his grandson that he saw on the news.

Andy didn’t say anything, waiting for his father to grab the payphone so they could be speaking. Andy’s grip on the phone was so tight, his knuckles had turned ice white. “Are you gonna say anything?” His father was cocky, attitude coating every word.

“What do you want?”

“I saw you and my grandson on the news. Murder. How old’s the kid? 13? 14?”

“14,” Andy answered plainly. “And he’s innocent.”

William scoffed. Andy’s hands balled into fists. “If you say so.”

“He is.”

“Fine, let’s say he is. And how’s that going? Do the courts think he’s innocent?”

“They will,” Andy answered. “They’re exploring other suspects.”

“Hmm. Interesting.”

“You never answered my question. What do you want?”

“You and that fucking attitude. You sound like a man now, but you’ve kept that same shitty attitude since you were a boy.”

“Just answer the damn question before I leave.”

“Your wife paid me a visit. She’s a catch, really. She wanted some help to prove your kid’s innocence.” The DNA swap. The shred of evidence that could make or break the case for Jacob’s innocence. Andy vehemently opposed, assured that both he and his son were nothing like his father. When Laurie found out, she was insistent on it. It was a point of contention for the both of them, blowing up yet again the night of the barbecue. Of course now that she wasn’t getting her way would she go behind Andy’s back.

“Please tell me you didn’t do it.”

“With a wife as pretty and sweet as her, I had to. I couldn’t tell her no.”

“She shouldn’t have even been here.”

“Oh, I know. She told me a lot when she came. Apparently, you don’t want her anymore.” Andy’s face turned into a scowl. “You’re crazy to give her up. She’s a real woman, Andy. Unlike you and your no-good mother, she doesn’t abandon the people she loves.”

Now it was Andy’s turn to scoff. Abandonment. William has been swinging that defense to Andy for as long as he could. Every letter or statement through his attorney always shared that same statement. How could a child abandon a parent? Andy wasn’t the reason why his father left. His father was a monster, ‘Bloody Bill’ as the press called him. William abandoned Andy and his mother when he chose to become the monster that lived inside of him.

“Leave my mother’s name out of your fucking mouth.”

“There you go with the fucking attitude,” Billy began. “I’m here to help you, keep you abreast of what’s going on, and there you are being a little shit.”

“How are you helping me?” Andy questioned.

“The swab and something else up my sleeve. I may have been in here for a goddamn lifetime, but I still have ways to help out in the real world. A way to erase your problems if you’d let me.”

“And what do you want?”

“Help me see the sun again before I go. You’re the fucking ADA. You have to have some kind of pull.”

“No,” Andy answered sharply. He wasn’t going to unleash a monster out into the world and bring more havoc to his life.

“I knew you’d say that. But fine, be like your stubborn mother. You’ll come crawling for my help eventually. You need me, son.”

“I don’t need shit from you,” Andy said before slamming the phone down and storming off. He wanted to throw something, destroy something. He was livid. He had been so focused on making sure Jacob and you were okay that he forgot about another monster lurking in the shadows waiting to pounce. And thanks to Laurie, that day was coming sooner than it needed to.

You got home with time to spare to get ready. You showered, feeling the need to scrub yourself clean. Were you really worried about being squeaky clean or were you trying to scrub off the guilt you felt? You had spent so many years of your life resenting your mother, believing her to be selfish and unwilling to fight for you. But now that the truth was out, it was too late to apologize and reach out. Your mother was gone, and now you were left with the truth that she was looking out for you and had left you all that she had before she died.

Harris left for Maggie’s, in case you and Andy needed alone time even though you told her it wasn’t necessary. After drying off from your shower, you stood in your closet, perplexed on what to wear. You wish Harris didn’t leave so soon, wanting her insight. Should you dress up more than normal or would that look like you were trying too hard? Andy gave you no information about this restaurant, and you had no idea what to expect.

You moved on to focus on your makeup, something you didn’t need an outfit to complete. You did light makeup, enhancing your eyes and a nude lip combo to give you an effortless, natural look. You decided to wear your curly hair down, styling it to make sure your curls were nice and defined. When you got back to your closet, you decided on a light cream-colored sweater, a black mini skirt, and ankle boots. It was a bit dressier than your usual attire, but it wasn’t too much.

You finished getting ready, spraying on some perfumes, and sending a quick text to Harris you were about to leave. When you heard the sound of your doorbell ring, you felt your butterflies grow in your stomach. You gripped the stair railing tightly as you walked downstairs. You double-checked you had everything you needed in your bag before opening the door.

Andy stood there, a bouquet of white and pink flowers in his hand. He looked more handsome than before. He wore a black button-up shirt, dark jeans, and his cologne instantly became your favorite scent.

You thanked Andy for the flowers, bringing them to the kitchen to place in a vase with fresh water. When you returned, Andy waited in your doorway, not sure if you were comfortable with him there yet. “Ready to go?” he asked, a smile forming on his face.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

feedback is much appreciated! <3

taglist: @softimgyu

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