#thirteen reasons why fanfic

[shayyprasad]

game (headcanon) | clay jensen

a/n: something. i had to post something. (i'm halfway through season three, any requests can only be made in the timeline of season one + two + three! please, no spoilers! (i'll cry.) i wanted to write something, literally anything, to get the creative wheels turning. this is kind of just a starting point for me. italics - clay; normal - ...anyone that isn't clay.

summary: how you and clay became you and clay.

warnings: mostly fluff, some depressive/suic!d@l thoughts (nature of clay), it's 13rw... let's face it, the show tackles some dark stuff.

pairing: fem!reader x clay jensen

word count: 0.79k+ words

-after hannah, clay wasn't great at putting himself out there, especially when it came to girls.

-the biggest thing he'd be worried about was girls. once hannah passed, the main reason he was having trouble was because he was trying to find another hannah.

-clay couldn't help but compare everyone to her.

-it was funny though, because the second he saw you, it was like; who's hannah? the world of "before hannah" and "after hannah" was gone.

-in that moment, when you'd first locked eyes, anything revolving the mere thought of hannah disappeared. he didn't have to think about her, and as selfish as it feels to him, it was refreshing. relieving.

-and you know what? he loved that feeling. he loved the feeling of cloud nine.

-sure, plently of times he'd considered asked you out. and then the thought would hit him like a brick; he's never even said a word to you. how's he going to ask you anything at all, if he can't even utter yet a simple "hi" to you?

-trust me, he tries. clay tries a whole lot. but he'll be inches away, and freeze up.

-part of him is afraid to love again, because what if everything ends up like hannah? like one big repeat? he's not sure if he can live through that again. it was hard enough the first time around.

-eventually, he gives up, choosing to admire you from afar.

-it's luck for him, however, when you're the one to break the ice.

-he remembers it clearly, how you lean over during english lit.

-"clay? do you have any idea what we're doing. because... yeah, i wasn't listening." / "huh? what? oh, uh, yeah- yeah, it's chapters 12-15, questions 1-10."

-he's panicking. you're talking to him.

the second time, you're complaining about your math grade to a friend. he's not even thinking when he blurts out:

-"i can help you. like, tutor you or whatever. i'm pretty good at it." / "wait, really? like, for real?" / "sure."

-clay's non-chalant on the outside, not so much on the inside.

-you seem happy, and instantly, he is too.

-the first thing he does is head into his room, kicking justin out.

-"yeah, okay, well, the adoption papers strongly disagree." / "please? y/n's coming over! i need this to go well." / "y/n? no shit?" / "no shit."

-justin gives in, he's clay's number hypeman anyways. justin lingers in the main house, and then finally wanders to find jessica. that's not clay's concern right now, though.

-it's his room. or more specifically, his shared room. he's freaking out, he hasn't been this nervous since the trial, as he shoves all - i mean all - of justin's crap into the closet, then cleaning up his own.

-he hesisitates over his akr comics, before shoving them in a drawer.

-clay showers, it won't hurt, and spritzes on some of justin's more... masculine colongne.

-half an hour later, there's a knock at the door. he's giddy as he answers it, yet nervous as well.

-"nice house-shed." / "thanks."

-he hopes it a compliment. you're nodding in approval, taking in his room. (shared room.) the little trinkets and trophies.

-and the one akr comic he left out.

-"oh, you read these?" / "y-yeah. i mean, yes. i do. wait- do you?" / no, but my little brother does."

-it's incredible how the conversation flows so smoothly after that.

-after a while, you and him got close. suddenly, it wasn't just study/tutoring sessions, it was hangouts at your place and his.

-everyone thought the two of you were dating, starting with justin.

-he would just be talking to his brother, and it would slip in.

-"how's it going between you and y/n?" / "what's going?" / "dude, you still haven't said anything?" / "there's nothing to say."

-or between his parents:

-"clay, honey, how's your girlfriend? you should bring her over for dinner!" / "we aren't dating, mom." / "really?"

-and more frequently, at school. everyone just assumed you and him were together, and at some point, you stopped correcting them.

-"hey, man, your girlfriend left her jacket in class." / "i'll give it to her."

-somewhere along the line, the difference between dating and not-dating blurred, to the point where you weren't even sure what was going on.

-"hi, not-boyfriend." / "hey, not-girlfriend."

-^became a regular occurence.

-"should we just date? y-you know, because everyone thinks we are... so... it's like-" / "sure." / "okay. wait, really?" / "yeah, why not? i'm suprised it took you this long. i'm literally always flirting with you." / "oh."

-like i said, clay isn't always the best with girls. it doesn't matter though, because you have enough game for the both of them.

#clay jensen x reader #13rw #13 reasons why #thirteen reasons why #clay jensen x y/n #clay jensen fanfic #clay jensen fluff #clay jensen self insert #13rw self insert

[13-reasons-ideas]

Can’t Go Back Part 24

A/N: Guess who’s back! Thank you for sticking with me. It’s been a rough several months and I think things are finally getting to a point where I can focus on my hobbies again. As always, feedback is appreciated and Character Q&As are open. Much Love -Em

I had finished the last book on my To Read shelf by mid-May. Hopping off my bed, I went over to my bookshelf. There was only one shelf of space left. The stack to shelve had gotten a tad out of hand. Sighing to myself, I sat down to start reorganizing. I pulled the books from H to Z down to fit the new additions to my collection in. My dad poked his head in when the stack fell over.

“Everything okay in here?” I was surrounded by books. Dad tried not to laugh as he took the scene in. Grabbing books, I turned back to the shelf.

“Perfect. Totally meant to sit in a sea of books this afternoon.”

“Sure. You have fun with that. I have to head into the office for a while. Tell your mother I probably won’t be home for dinner.”

“Will do.” I nodded, not turning my attention back to him.

Monty texted me shortly after I had finished the M’s. What are you up to today?

Organizing my bookshelf. I finished my TBR so now they go in the permanent collection.

Only my girlfriend would make a permanent book collection and a separate section for books that aren’t done.

Hey! Lots of people do this.

Yes honey.

What are you up to today?

Trying to study for my last History test. It’s very boring.

I’m sure it is. If you’re free Saturday, how about a get out of studying free card?

Oh? What did you have in mind Doll? I rolled my eyes and grinned. Of course he thought I meant something dirty.

Cool your jets Monty. I was going to see if you wanted to go to the bookstore with me?

I can make that happen. What time?

I think Clay and I are getting lunch to go over our study guide for the Math final. I could do like 1?

Sounds good. Do you want me to meet you at the bookstore?

Sure. I go to the B&N at the Everglade.

It’s a date.

I smiled and went back to my books.

When it was done, I snapped a picture and sent it to Justin. I finished my TBR! You know what that means?

Oh no. More books?

More books!

Do I have to come with you?

No. The parents gave me a limit of 10 books this time.

Only 10?

I have points saved up. And 10 is a perfectly reasonable amount of new books.

For you? Yes. For normal people? No.

Oh shhh, or I’ll make you come with me.

Okay, okay. It’s reasonable lol. I texted Monty a picture of my bookshelf too. He responded with a laughing emoji.

Teachers were beginning to wrap up final units and hand out study guides for finals. Justin was still mad about summer school so he kept up his not giving a shit attitude. I rolled my eyes whenever he sighed or complained about finals. And I stopped offering to help him. If he wanted to do more work in summer school, that was fine by me. It gave me more time to spend with Monty.

On Saturday, I met Clay at Rosie’s and we both got milkshakes. I wasn’t very hungry, and I didn’t want burger breath later. “So Clay, how’s Hannah doing?”

“I don’t know. We have hung out a few times, and I see her at work, but I don’t think we have hung out hung out.”

“You still haven’t asked her out?”

“I mean, we went to Jeff’s place not together, but we were both there, and I feel like maybe we connected?”

“Connected?”

“Well, we were doing… stuff… and we talked.” My eyes widened.

“Clay Jensen did you do drugs in Jeff’s basement?”

“Maybe?” I was stunned.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Clay Jensen, having fun. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Ha ha.” He joked.

“I’m kidding! But seriously. Take the risk Clay.”

“I’ll think about it. Can we look at this study guide now?” I sighed and pulled it out of my bag. We both shuddered. This is not going to be a pretty exam.

By the time Clay and I called it an afternoon, it was 12:30. That gave me just enough time to get to the city. We packed our notes and headed outside. “Man, I really need a car.” Clay sighed, unlocking his bike.

“Your parents said no?”

“I have a bike.” He waved towards the bike.

“That you do. I would offer you a ride, but I’m headed into the city for the afternoon.”

“No worries, Addy.” He smiled. We waved goodbye and I watched as he biked down the street. I started my car and texted Monty. Leaving Rosie’s now. Might be a little late. Drive safe.

Sounds good, drive safe Doll.

I stopped at Starbucks when I got to the mall and got an iced coffee to sip while I browse and a coffee for Montgomery. He was waiting outside Barnes & Noble for me. “Hey handsome. Fancy seeing you here.” I winked as I walked up to him.

“Hey gorgeous. What can I say, thought it would be a good way to find a girl. You know what they say about the readers.”

“I have a feeling I do.” I laughed and handed him his coffee. “Something to do with being high strung, overachievers with daddy issues?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Monty took my hand and let me lead him into the bookstore. I decided I would keep my ten-book limit to myself. I knew how many points I had, and I still had birthday money left from last year.

He chuckled as I practically dragged him towards the YA section. I didn’t stop to look at the romance displays or the cookbooks or the journals. I was on a mission. There were books to buy. I sipped my coffee as I browsed. As usual, I made my way up and down the aisles quickly once to see if anything immediately caught my eye. A couple of books did, so I grabbed them to look over after I was done my power walk. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you move that fast.”

“Ass.” I laughed as I read over the synopsizes of the two books. Neither of them was my cup of tea in the end, so I decided to put them back. I could feel Montgomery watching me as I looked at the shelves. “What?” I asked as I pulled a book down and skimmed the back.

“Nothin’. You’re just cute is all.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. And those shorts are very nice.” I blushed and smiled softly.

“Thanks.” I handed him the book.

“Oh, I see. You needed someone to carry the books.”

“Well, who else would I have asked, when I have my strong, athletic boyfriend to follow me around the store?” He only laughed in response. I grabbed a few more books as I sipped at my coffee. Once in a while, I would notice him watching me and turn to smile at him.

There were six books in Monty’s hands before he finished his coffee. “I’m going to throw this out. Try to leave some books for the next person, okay Bookworm?”

“I’ll try. No promises though.” I mused. By the time he came back, I had three more books. I looked up when I heard him laugh. I grinned at him and held out the books. He took them, tucked them under his arm, and stepped towards me. My brow furrowed and he reached to tuck my hair behind my ear, trailing his hand down to cup the back of my neck, and pull me towards him to kiss me. I kissed him back softly. It was nice to be able to kiss in public. I liked our little bubble. It felt like we were the only two people in the world. He pulled away first.

We continued to peruse the store for a while and stole kisses and glances along the way. Monty slid his hand in my back pocket as we walked. I grabbed another couple of books and sighed. “What’s up?”

“I guess that’s enough books for a little while.”

“For a little while? Addison. There’s like,” he paused to count, “sixteen books here.”

“Yeah. And that isn’t even all of what is on my TBR still. And it’s buy one get one half off all books.” I shrugged.

“Jesus. Crazy woman.” He muttered softly and kissed the side of my head. I sighed and turned to head for the till. After discounts, points, and birthday money, my total was twenty-five dollars.

“Now to figure out how to sneak the extra six books into the house.” I muttered as we left.

“The extra what whats?”

“Uh… nothing.” I smiled sheepishly. He shook his head playfully. “Oh, hey. Pretzels. Split one?”

“Nice change of subject. Sure. Pretzel sounds good.” He rubbed my hand as he held it. This is nice.

In late June, just as finals week was hitting its peak, tragedy struck our little group of jocks. The boys were at Bryce’s trying to blow off some steam. I was trying to be nice to him and make an effort for Justin, so I tagged along. The way his family approached and flaunted their money always took me by surprise. I wasn’t oblivious. I knew my family had more money than most. More than I liked to consider or admit. But it was never flashed around the way it was with the Walkers. I came from old money on my dad’s side, like his mom. But unlike him, I wasn’t exposed to it on a daily basis. The concept of a twice a week maid was enough to widen my eyes. The only time my family had a maid come was when Gran was coming to stay with us, or we were hosting Christmas back when all my grandparents lived state-side, so a very deep clean was needed. The fact that they had a chef come in once a week to meal prep for them was… almost incomprehensible. The only time I met a chef was when I found a hair in my food when my family went out one night.

I had been to his house before of course. I was friends with Justin. We shared custody of him most weeks. Even still, I found myself hanging back and watching the boys socialize. Or I was trying to at least. Bryce thrusting a bottle of water in my hand startled me. I jumped slightly. “Thanks.” I muttered.

“Don’t mention it.” He chuckled. He settled himself next to me and leaned back against the counter.

“Hi.”

“Hi. You know that they will talk to you, right? They know you.”

“I know.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you then.” Great. Just what I want.

“Sure Bryce.”

“How are finals treating you?”

“I cried before my honours English final yesterday.”

“I almost forgot about my math final.”

“So, we are basically in the same boat.”

“Basically. You had bio and history today?”

“Yeah.”

“How were they?”

“I think I did fairly okay. Can you imagine what my mum would do if I bombed the history final?” He stared off into space with me and shivered.

“I would say something nice about you at your funeral.”

“Thanks Walker. Killing me does seem like a lot of hassle for that though. Like it seems like it would just inconvenience them. Maybe locked in my room to study until I’m forty?”

“True. I would text you news updates. Keep you updated in all things Bryce and the boys.”

“Prefect. Make isolation at least a little bit bearable.” He was actually kind of nice sometimes. Maybe. If I squinted.

“Yeah. My dad would have freaked if I missed my math final.”

“How could you take over the family business if you fail tenth grade math Bryce?”

“No idea. Not like he doesn’t pay someone to do all that math for him. Speaking of, he wanted me to ask you if your dad is taking on any new clients now that tax season is winding down?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think he is, but I can get him to email your dad.” I don’t think he’s going to take your dad on.

“I’ll let him know.”

“Where are you off to this summer?”

“I think we are summering in Fiji?”

“Because California isn’t summer-y enough?”

“Mom thinks the sun feels different. More sunny. I tan better in tropical environments.”

“Sure, you do.”

“What are your family’s plans?”

“We have our annual family trip to Boston at the end of July into the first week of August. Dad pushed his vacation time this year.”

“Doesn’t he own the company?”

“Yeah. But his associate wanted to take vacation in mid-July. She’s taking her kids to Disney World.”

“Again, doesn’t he own the company?”

“Again, yes. Why?”

“Shouldn’t he get first pick?”

“Well, our vacation basically costs us airfare, food, and spending money. Hers and everyone else’s costs a lot more. And requires more planning. So, he lets them have first pick and takes whatever’s left for the most part. Because of that, people are more willing to pick fairly.”

“Interesting.”

“Are you two going to come outside or not?” Justin called from the back yard. Bryce and I looked up and found the house empty. All the boys had moved to the back. We shrugged and joined them. I needed to pass the sniff test so I didn’t dare go in the pool house. Anders and Dylan were in the pool house enjoying Bryce’s stash. It was already nearing eighty degrees in the daytime. We were in for a hot summer. Justin pulled off his shirt, dropped his pants, and jumped in the pool. Shaking my head, I followed Bryce outside.

I sat on the edge of the pool and dipped my feet in the water. Monty was trying to be discreet and swim backwards towards me. He stopped just shy of me and shared a look with Zach. I pretended not to notice. It looked like I was busy watching Justin goof off with Bryce and Garrison. I was watching my boyfriend out of the corner of my eye though. I felt a wave close to my foot. “Montgomery. If you touch my foot, I’m not responsible for what happens to your face.” His hand stopped and his eyes widened. Justin laughed and called from across the pool.

“She isn’t wrong dude. She kicked me in the face when I was trying to bug her one time.”

“I wasn’t going to….” Monty trailed off.

“Sure, you weren’t.” I shook my head and moved to stand up. I pulled my tank top over my head. The shorts I was wearing were fine to go in the water.

Seeing as we had to keep up appearances, I couldn’t very well ask Monty to tighten the tie on my bikini top. That would be too much. The boys would question that. Joking around and talking to each other in a group was okay. Touching was not. “Hey Justin, do you mind?” I gestured to my back, not looking at the pool.

“He’s a little busy.” Bryce said. I could hear splashing behind me.

“Zach?”

“Sure.” He climbed out of the pool and untied the bottom strings. He pulled them tighter in a knot and doubled the bow. “Good?”

“Yeah.” I turned around. “Thanks.” Bryce whistled. Gross.

“Why are you keeping her all to yourself again?” He asked Justin. I flipped him off. Why am I being nice to you again?

“I’m not. It’s Addison. Even if I was, I don’t share Bryce.” He seemed to shut the conversation down. Only I could pick up on the stern undertone in his voice. Just as quickly as it came, it was gone, and they were back to goofing off again.

I slipped in the pool and noticing Justin was distracted, I swam over to him and jumped on his back. I may have accidentally splashed Monty in my jumping. I snuck a peek at him and he was rolling his eyes and laughing. “Chicken?” Justin asked. His hands went to my thighs unconsciously.

“No. You dropped me last time. Though it would be entertaining trying to watch the rest of you lift each other.”

“We’re strong.” The boys around me protested. They all made a show of flexing.

“Yes, yes. You’re all strong and hot. With superior athletic abilities. Go you.” I laughed.

“Ha! I told you she thinks I’m hot.” Bryce pointed at Justin.

“It doesn’t count if you’re objectively attractive Walker. I also think the blond guy from the Percy Jackson movie is hot. Because he is objectively attractive.”

“Objectively attractive?”

“You’re lucky you’re rich.” I muttered. Justin choked. “You’re a very pretty man Bryce Walker.”

“Do we get called pretty too Addison?” Monty asked.

“If you don’t call me by my full name again then sure Monty. You are also pretty. Foley, I swear if you drop me, you’re sleeping on the floor tonight.” His hand tightened around my thigh.

The group of us hung out for a while. At some point Scott joined us. Even though we weren’t friends per say, he was still nice to me when I was around. He swam over to my corner of the pool. “I’m supposed to ask you if you think I’m pretty?”

“Scott. If you don’t know you’re pretty, I don’t know what to say to you.”

“Alright then. Why was I supposed to ask?”

“I acknowledged Bryce is objectively attractive and the children felt left out.”

“I see. Why are you hiding in a corner?”

“Hiding from Justin. He’s trying to get me to play chicken. But I don’t feel like getting dropped again.”

“And why does he think you’d get to play with anyone else?”

“I think the attempt would be very entertaining actually.” There was a ringing over by the table.

“Someone’s phone is ringing.” I called. The ringing stopped and started again immediately. Zach looked up. It was his phone.

“It’s probably his mommy calling to tell him he has to come home before it gets dark.” Bryce teased. The boys laughed. I even chuckled a little to myself. Oh, how bad I would feel about that chuckle in a few hours. Zach splashed him. By the time the phone began its second round of ringing again, Zach was out of the pool and grabbing it. He was smiling when he answered it.

“Hey Mom. I’m com-.” It was quiet. “Yeah, I’ll be right home.” He hung up and quickly pulled on his pants, over his wet swim trucks. He threw on his shirt and practically sprinted back in the house. He didn’t say a word to any of us as he left.

“What’s going on with him?” Bryce said. We all stared after him.

A few hours after I got home, I got a text from Bryce. Justin got the same text. Zach’s dad died. Justin and I sat and looked at each other at the table, shocked. We sat there for a solid ten minutes, trying to absorb the information we had been given. I was sure our friends were in the same position. How did you respond to something like that? None of us had ever lost a parent. Sure, I had lost a couple of grandparents. I probably wasn’t the only one. But they’re sort of expected to die. They’re old. They’ve lived. Our parents weren’t old. Not old enough to die yet anyway. I picked my phone back up and texted Zach the only thing I could think to say. He would hear the words a lot in the next few months. I am so sorry. I knew he wouldn’t answer.

Zach wasn’t at school for the rest of the week. Not that he should have been. He had been excused from all of his other exams. Because of course he should have been. I didn’t see him until I was walking home from a date with Monty over the weekend. He was just… walking around town. He didn’t see me at first. When he noticed me standing up the street, he waved a little. I waved back and slowly walked over to him. Even though Zach Dempsey and I weren’t really friends, we were friendly. That’s why it didn’t feel weird when the only thing my brain said to do, was hug him. He didn’t cry. He didn’t say anything. He just hugged me back. We didn’t talk about that random, silent hug on the street again. Not for a long time at least. We simply nodded as we parted ways. He walked one way and I walked the other.

July changed a lot of things. Bryce left town with his family a few days after Zach’s dad’s funeral. Seth was back in town too. That meant Justin spent most of the first couple of weeks of July at my house. He was right. My parents were not happy about him doing summer school. As his not-mom my mum had a strict ‘no fun until homework is done and checked’ rule. At first, I spent my time with Monty during school hours. We weren’t really sure what the summer meant for our relationship. Those first few dates, we mostly talked about that.

“Well, I don’t want to not see you.” Monty said, between kisses in the backseat of my car. We had parked at a secluded clearing overlooking the river.

“I don’t want to not see you either. It’s going to be hard though.”

“Don’t talk about hard right now Doll. Please.” I pulled away and looked at him wide-eyed. “You don’t strike me as a public sex kind of girl. And I don’t want to get a public indecency charge.”

“Yeah. I’m not.” I sat up. “Justin being at my place complicates things.”

“Oh, I know.” He ground out as he adjusted his jeans. I could tell my cheeks were flushed.

“We knew we couldn’t see each other every day.”

“But it’s not easy not seeing you.”

“I know it’s not.”

“Why does this have to be so hard?” He sat back.

“I don’t know.” Neither of us were ready nor willing to have the ‘tell other people’ talk. Even though it had been almost a year. And probably needed to happen.

“Seeing each other while school is in, isn’t such a bad thing, is it?”

“No.”

“And I do have other friends. I could say I’m going to the city with Alex or something. Give us some more time?”

“That’s true.”

I sighed and ran my hand through my hair. “I could take you to the bookstore.” He blinked at me. “What?”

“The bookstore?”

“It’s air conditioned.” I shrugged and climbed into his lap. His hands instinctively found their way to my hips.

“You just need someone to carry your books again.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I smirked.

There was something different about Justin since he started summer school. I couldn’t put my finger on it. He was… distracted. I noticed he spent more time on his phone after homework than paying attention to what we were doing. Which was fine when it was show re-runs or my mom’s pick for movie night. But when you’re trying to play Ticket to Ride with a guy, it’s much easier when they are paying attention. “Hey. Earth to Justin. Hello?”

“Huh?” He looked up from his phone.

“It’s been your turn for the past five minutes.”

“Shit, sorry.” He looked at his cards and the map. Picking up a red and a pink from the pile, he settled back in his chair. Interesting. I frowned at the board, trying to figure out what he was doing. I came back with nothing. His phone buzzed again. I glanced at it. So did he. Then my phone buzzed. He glanced at it. So, did I. It was like we were waiting to see who would grab their phone first. After a few beats, his hand went to his phone. He smirked a little and put it down. I didn’t check mine.

I came home from a date with Monty a little late on Thursday. It was nearing five when I walked in the door, after I fixed my hair. I dropped my purse and stopped dead in my tracks. Justin had company. Company in the form of Jessica Davis. Who was currently sitting in his lap. On my couch. Making out with him. On my couch. They had their hands up each other’s shirts. On my couch. I cleared my throat. Jessica pulled away and turned towards me. “Oh, hey Addy.” She greeted, like this was normal.

“Hey Addy. You’re… just getting home?” His speech was slowed. Are you shitting me?

“Yeah. What’s going on?”

“Your parents said I could have a friend over after class.”

“Okay.” I blinked. She was still perched in his lap. I glanced at the clock. “I suggest you fix your shirts because they should be home soon. And I don’t think they want to see, uh, this.” I motioned in their general direction. Jessica laughed and climbed off Justin.

“Oh, don’t be such a priss, Addison.”

“I’m not being a priss. I just wasn’t expecting to come home to people making out on my couch.” She rolled her eyes. “Great to see you too. Hey, Justin. Can I steal you for a sec?” I waved upstairs. “There’s snacks in the cupboard, Jess.”

Justin followed me upstairs, trying not to giggle at, assumingly, the fact that he didn’t get caught by my parents. I shut the door when we got to my room. “What the fuck Justin?”

“What?” He shrugged.

“What do you mean what?”

“What?”

“Making out with a girl on our couch?” He was trying to avoid eye contact. My parents are going to kill him.

“No one was home. It’s not a big deal.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“I don’t know, a couple weeks?” I blinked at him. He was still trying to look away from me. I grabbed his face and made him look at me.

“Are you fucking high right now?”

“No? What? Why would you ask that?” His eyes were bloodshot. He was acting very much like Justin when Justin has been indulging in Bryce’s stash.

“Don’t lie to me Justin Foley. You know my parent’s rules. Do you want them to freak out?”

“Oh, come on Addison. It was a little weed. It’s not that big of a deal.” I sighed heavily.

“You know what, whatever. You obviously don’t care. So, I suggest you tell your girlfriend to leave or figure out a way to sober up before they get home. And if that fails, tell her to leave, and come hide in here until you’re sober enough to face them.” I grabbed a book off my shelf and went back downstairs. I nodded at Jessica, who had made herself some crackers and dip. Sitting at the table, I texted Monty.

Justin and Jessica? Did you know about this? He responded a couple of minutes later.

No? Actually?

Yeah. They were making out on my couch when I got home. And to make things even more awkward and complicated, they’re both high.

I mean, to be fair, weed isn’t really that bad.

Yeah. I know. But that’s not the point. My parents are going to freak. Now is really not the time to be pissing them off.

Oh crap. You guys leave for Boston soon, don’t you?

Next week. And if Justin can’t keep his shit together… I left the unspoken implication hang in cyberspace. Are you really just going to ignore the fact that they were on the couch?

I was hoping to just ignore that fact.

Our make out spots are becoming fewer and further between.

We could just stay in your bed, Doll.

But the couch has the TV. So we can not watch a movie without worrying about my laptop falling.

“Who you texting so much?” Jessica asked, trying to peer at my phone.

“Friend from Boston.” I said, locking my phone.

“Oh, friend from Boston, you say? Is he cute?”

“I guess? His girlfriend probably thinks so.”

“Oh. Not a secret long distance lover then?”

“No. And we grew up together. It would be weird.” I slipped my phone in my pocket and grabbed some cereal. We both looked up when my parents got home. I took that as my cue to go get Justin. I practically kicked him downstairs so he could go entertain his girlfriend with my parents and I could have some time to process how I missed it. Probably the same way he has missed me having a boyfriend for… almost a year.

The day before we left for Boston, Justin and I were running around like mad men. I had plans with Monty and Justin had plans with Jessica tonight, so I didn’t want to be too long packing. Unfortunately, neither of us could find anything we wanted to bring. It was going to be nice so I wanted to bring some dresses. We had a few things planned, but like with our other trips, there would be plenty of time to lounge around the house.

“Have you seen my pink and green dress?”

“The one with the stripes? No. Have you seen my blue shirt?”

“I think mum put it in the wash.”

“Okay.” Justin went down the hall to the bathroom. “Has anyone seen my shampoo?” He called.

“It’s in here.” My dad called from their room. I was busy ripping apart my closet. I groaned in frustration.

“You know, it’s just Boston. We go every year.”

“I know Justin. I just like to be prepared for every eventuality.”

“Yeah. Wait… are you trying to impress Adrian?” Justin laughed. I turned and he was leaning against the doorframe.

“No. Absolutely not. Besides, he has a girlfriend.” A girlfriend I happen to like.

“If you say so.” He smirked. I rolled my eyes and flipped him off as he went back to packing his bag. I gave up on my closet and decided to tackle our toiletries. I wasn’t too concerned with travel sizes because it was all going in my checked luggage.

“Decide what book you’re taking with you Addy?”

“Don’t you mean books, plural? It is a 6-hour flight after all.” He laughed.

“Okay, okay. Books?”

“I’m happy you asked.” I grinned as I pulled out the Barnes & Noble bag from under my bed. His jaw dropped. I shrugged.

“Your parents are going to freak.”

“They know I went book shopping.”

After a very long day of packing, Justin left to go meet Jessica. I texted Monty to let him know I would be leaving in about fifteen minutes. “I’m going to hang out with Alex and Clay for a bit.” I told my parents.

“Just remember we leave early tomorrow for the airport Addison.” My dad said, not looking up from his list. My mom was emptying the fridge.

“I will.”

When I got to the cliffside where we agreed to meet, Monty was waiting for me. I couldn’t help myself. I ran and held onto him like it was the last time I would ever see him. “You’re only leaving for two weeks Addison.” He grunted at the impact.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” He kissed the top of my head. We stood like that for a few more minutes before finally separating. I took his hand and led him up the trail. It was good for both of us to be walking the trails. He was starting summer training with the boys while we were gone, and I was going to be sitting for around 8 hours straight tomorrow. Provided our flight wasn’t delayed, of course. It was just starting to get dark, and I stopped along the way to take in the town’s skyline in the evening dusk. Monty rested his chin on top of my head, and I sighed, leaning back into him. It was so peaceful. I looked up and him and noticed a small bruise forming on his jaw. Not wanting to start a fight right before I left for two weeks, I pretended I hadn’t seen it. I smiled sadly to myself still. I wish he would just talk to me about it.

After a few hours, wandering around and soaking in the last time we would have for a couple of weeks, which feels like an eternity when you’re 16, we knew it was time to say goodbye. When we got to the parking lot, he made me turn around at his Jeep. I furrowed my brow. Before I could ask, he twirled his finger in the air. I clamped my mouth closed and turned. He rummaged around for a minute. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll see. Just wait a minute.” I huffed. He chuckled. “Ah.” He muttered. He tapped me on the shoulder. I turned. He held out a small Barnes and Noble bag. I was taken aback. I wasn’t expecting anything. I pointed at the bag and then at me.

“F-for me?”

“It’s not much so don’t start.” He smiled, shyly.

“Okay.” I took the bag.

“I can’t wrap stuff worth shit, so the bag is as good as you’re going to get.” I laughed and shrugged. It was a fair enough explanation. I opened the bag and pulled out a spiralbound notebook. The cover was pink with the titles of all the classics on it. I smiled. “You won’t be here for your birthday, and I know your notebook is getting full so….” Monty trailed off.

“Thank you. This is really sweet.” I flipped it open and gasped. On the first page, he had drawn a book like on the cover, and titled it The Next Classic and written Hawthorne at the bottom where the author’s last name sometimes appears.

“Happy birthday, Addison.”

“Oh.” I smiled. My eyes had started to tear up. This was the sweetest gift anyone had ever given me. I closed the gap between us and kissed him. He pulled me closer to him and I deepened the kiss just a little. Not too much, just enough to make him remember me while I was gone.I had finished the last book on my To Read shelf by mid-May. Hopping off my bed, I went over to my bookshelf. There was only one shelf of space left. The stack to shelve had gotten a tad out of hand. Sighing to myself, I sat down to start reorganizing. I pulled the books from H to Z down to fit the new additions to my collection in. My dad poked his head in when the stack fell over. “Everything okay in here?” I was surrounded by books. Dad tried not to laugh as he took the scene in. Grabbing books, I turned back to the shelf.“Perfect. Totally meant to sit in a sea of books this afternoon.” “Sure. You have fun with that. I have to head into the office for a while. Tell your mother I probably won’t be home for dinner.” “Will do.” I nodded, not turning my attention back to him. Monty texted me shortly after I had finished the M’s. What are you up to today? Organizing my bookshelf. I finished my TBR so now they go in the permanent collection. Only my girlfriend would make a permanent book collection and a separate section for books that aren’t done. Hey! Lots of people do this. Yes honey. What are you up to today? Trying to study for my last History test. It’s very boring. I’m sure it is. If you’re free Saturday, how about a get out of studying free card? Oh? What did you have in mind Doll? I rolled my eyes and grinned. Of course he thought I meant something dirty. Cool your jets Monty. I was going to see if you wanted to go to the bookstore with me?I can make that happen. What time? I think Clay and I are getting lunch to go over our study guide for the Math final. I could do like 1?Sounds good. Do you want me to meet you at the bookstore? Sure. I go to the B&N at the Everglade. It’s a date. I smiled and went back to my books. When it was done, I snapped a picture and sent it to Justin. I finished my TBR! You know what that means?Oh no. More books? More books! Do I have to come with you?No. The parents gave me a limit of 10 books this time. Only 10?I have points saved up. And 10 is a perfectly reasonable amount of new books. For you? Yes. For normal people? No. Oh shhh, or I’ll make you come with me. Okay, okay. It’s reasonable lol. I texted Monty a picture of my bookshelf too. He responded with a laughing emoji. Teachers were beginning to wrap up final units and hand out study guides for finals. Justin was still mad about summer school so he kept up his not giving a shit attitude. I rolled my eyes whenever he sighed or complained about finals. And I stopped offering to help him. If he wanted to do more work in summer school, that was fine by me. It gave me more time to spend with Monty. On Saturday, I met Clay at Rosie’s and we both got milkshakes. I wasn’t very hungry, and I didn’t want burger breath later. “So Clay, how’s Hannah doing?” “I don’t know. We have hung out a few times, and I see her at work, but I don’t think we have hung out hung out.” “You still haven’t asked her out?” “I mean, we went to Jeff’s place not together, but we were both there, and I feel like maybe we connected?” “Connected?” “Well, we were doing… stuff… and we talked.” My eyes widened. “Clay Jensen did you do drugs in Jeff’s basement?” “Maybe?” I was stunned. “Well, I’ll be damned. Clay Jensen, having fun. I never thought I’d see the day.”“Ha ha.” He joked. “I’m kidding! But seriously. Take the risk Clay.” “I’ll think about it. Can we look at this study guide now?” I sighed and pulled it out of my bag. We both shuddered. This is not going to be a pretty exam.By the time Clay and I called it an afternoon, it was 12:30. That gave me just enough time to get to the city. We packed our notes and headed outside. “Man, I really need a car.” Clay sighed, unlocking his bike. “Your parents said no?” “I have a bike.” He waved towards the bike. “That you do. I would offer you a ride, but I’m headed into the city for the afternoon.” “No worries, Addy.” He smiled. We waved goodbye and I watched as he biked down the street. I started my car and texted Monty. Leaving Rosie’s now. Might be a little late. Drive safe. Sounds good, drive safe Doll. I stopped at Starbucks when I got to the mall and got an iced coffee to sip while I browse and a coffee for Montgomery. He was waiting outside Barnes & Noble for me. “Hey handsome. Fancy seeing you here.” I winked as I walked up to him.“Hey gorgeous. What can I say, thought it would be a good way to find a girl. You know what they say about the readers.” “I have a feeling I do.” I laughed and handed him his coffee. “Something to do with being high strung, overachievers with daddy issues?” “Somethin’ like that.” Monty took my hand and let me lead him into the bookstore. I decided I would keep my ten-book limit to myself. I knew how many points I had, and I still had birthday money left from last year. He chuckled as I practically dragged him towards the YA section. I didn’t stop to look at the romance displays or the cookbooks or the journals. I was on a mission. There were books to buy. I sipped my coffee as I browsed. As usual, I made my way up and down the aisles quickly once to see if anything immediately caught my eye. A couple of books did, so I grabbed them to look over after I was done my power walk. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you move that fast.” “Ass.” I laughed as I read over the synopsizes of the two books. Neither of them was my cup of tea in the end, so I decided to put them back. I could feel Montgomery watching me as I looked at the shelves. “What?” I asked as I pulled a book down and skimmed the back. “Nothin’. You’re just cute is all.” “Oh?” “Yeah. And those shorts are very nice.” I blushed and smiled softly. “Thanks.” I handed him the book. “Oh, I see. You needed someone to carry the books.”“Well, who else would I have asked, when I have my strong, athletic boyfriend to follow me around the store?” He only laughed in response. I grabbed a few more books as I sipped at my coffee. Once in a while, I would notice him watching me and turn to smile at him. There were six books in Monty’s hands before he finished his coffee. “I’m going to throw this out. Try to leave some books for the next person, okay Bookworm?” “I’ll try. No promises though.” I mused. By the time he came back, I had three more books. I looked up when I heard him laugh. I grinned at him and held out the books. He took them, tucked them under his arm, and stepped towards me. My brow furrowed and he reached to tuck my hair behind my ear, trailing his hand down to cup the back of my neck, and pull me towards him to kiss me. I kissed him back softly. It was nice to be able to kiss in public. I liked our little bubble. It felt like we were the only two people in the world. He pulled away first. We continued to peruse the store for a while and stole kisses and glances along the way. Monty slid his hand in my back pocket as we walked. I grabbed another couple of books and sighed. “What’s up?” “I guess that’s enough books for a little while.” “For a little while? Addison. There’s like,” he paused to count, “sixteen books here.” “Yeah. And that isn’t even all of what is on my TBR still. And it’s buy one get one half off all books.” I shrugged. “Jesus. Crazy woman.” He muttered softly and kissed the side of my head. I sighed and turned to head for the till. After discounts, points, and birthday money, my total was twenty-five dollars. “Now to figure out how to sneak the extra six books into the house.” I muttered as we left. “The extra what whats?” “Uh… nothing.” I smiled sheepishly. He shook his head playfully. “Oh, hey. Pretzels. Split one?” “Nice change of subject. Sure. Pretzel sounds good.” He rubbed my hand as he held it. This is nice. In late June, just as finals week was hitting its peak, tragedy struck our little group of jocks. The boys were at Bryce’s trying to blow off some steam. I was trying to be nice to him and make an effort for Justin, so I tagged along. The way his family approached and flaunted their money always took me by surprise. I wasn’t oblivious. I knew my family had more money than most. More than I liked to consider or admit. But it was never flashed around the way it was with the Walkers. I came from old money on my dad’s side, like his mom. But unlike him, I wasn’t exposed to it on a daily basis. The concept of a twice a week maid was enough to widen my eyes. The only time my family had a maid come was when Gran was coming to stay with us, or we were hosting Christmas back when all my grandparents lived state-side, so a very deep clean was needed. The fact that they had a chef come in once a week to meal prep for them was… almost incomprehensible. The only time I met a chef was when I found a hair in my food when my family went out one night. I had been to his house before of course. I was friends with Justin. We shared custody of him most weeks. Even still, I found myself hanging back and watching the boys socialize. Or I was trying to at least. Bryce thrusting a bottle of water in my hand startled me. I jumped slightly. “Thanks.” I muttered. “Don’t mention it.” He chuckled. He settled himself next to me and leaned back against the counter. “Hi.” “Hi. You know that they will talk to you, right? They know you.” “I know.” “Okay. I’ll talk to you then.” Great. Just what I want. “Sure Bryce.” “How are finals treating you?” “I cried before my honours English final yesterday.” “I almost forgot about my math final.” “So, we are basically in the same boat.” “Basically. You had bio and history today?” “Yeah.” “How were they?” “I think I did fairly okay. Can you imagine what my mum would do if I bombed the history final?” He stared off into space with me and shivered. “I would say something nice about you at your funeral.” “Thanks Walker. Killing me does seem like a lot of hassle for that though. Like it seems like it would just inconvenience them. Maybe locked in my room to study until I’m forty?” “True. I would text you news updates. Keep you updated in all things Bryce and the boys.” “Prefect. Make isolation at least a little bit bearable.” He was actually kind of nice sometimes. Maybe. If I squinted.“Yeah. My dad would have freaked if I missed my math final.” “How could you take over the family business if you fail tenth grade math Bryce?” “No idea. Not like he doesn’t pay someone to do all that math for him. Speaking of, he wanted me to ask you if your dad is taking on any new clients now that tax season is winding down?” “I don’t know. I don’t think he is, but I can get him to email your dad.” I don’t think he’s going to take your dad on. “I’ll let him know.” “Where are you off to this summer?” “I think we are summering in Fiji?” “Because California isn’t summer-y enough?” “Mom thinks the sun feels different. More sunny. I tan better in tropical environments.” “Sure, you do.”“What are your family’s plans?” “We have our annual family trip to Boston at the end of July into the first week of August. Dad pushed his vacation time this year.” “Doesn’t he own the company?” “Yeah. But his associate wanted to take vacation in mid-July. She’s taking her kids to Disney World.” “Again, doesn’t he own the company?”“Again, yes. Why?” “Shouldn’t he get first pick?” “Well, our vacation basically costs us airfare, food, and spending money. Hers and everyone else’s costs a lot more. And requires more planning. So, he lets them have first pick and takes whatever’s left for the most part. Because of that, people are more willing to pick fairly.” “Interesting.”“Are you two going to come outside or not?” Justin called from the back yard. Bryce and I looked up and found the house empty. All the boys had moved to the back. We shrugged and joined them. I needed to pass the sniff test so I didn’t dare go in the pool house. Anders and Dylan were in the pool house enjoying Bryce’s stash. It was already nearing eighty degrees in the daytime. We were in for a hot summer. Justin pulled off his shirt, dropped his pants, and jumped in the pool. Shaking my head, I followed Bryce outside. I sat on the edge of the pool and dipped my feet in the water. Monty was trying to be discreet and swim backwards towards me. He stopped just shy of me and shared a look with Zach. I pretended not to notice. It looked like I was busy watching Justin goof off with Bryce and Garrison. I was watching my boyfriend out of the corner of my eye though. I felt a wave close to my foot. “Montgomery. If you touch my foot, I’m not responsible for what happens to your face.” His hand stopped and his eyes widened. Justin laughed and called from across the pool. “She isn’t wrong dude. She kicked me in the face when I was trying to bug her one time.” “I wasn’t going to….” Monty trailed off. “Sure, you weren’t.” I shook my head and moved to stand up. I pulled my tank top over my head. The shorts I was wearing were fine to go in the water. Seeing as we had to keep up appearances, I couldn’t very well ask Monty to tighten the tie on my bikini top. That would be too much. The boys would question that. Joking around and talking to each other in a group was okay. Touching was not. “Hey Justin, do you mind?” I gestured to my back, not looking at the pool. “He’s a little busy.” Bryce said. I could hear splashing behind me. “Zach?” “Sure.” He climbed out of the pool and untied the bottom strings. He pulled them tighter in a knot and doubled the bow. “Good?” “Yeah.” I turned around. “Thanks.” Bryce whistled. Gross.“Why are you keeping her all to yourself again?” He asked Justin. I flipped him off. Why am I being nice to you again? “I’m not. It’s Addison. Even if I was, I don’t share Bryce.” He seemed to shut the conversation down. Only I could pick up on the stern undertone in his voice. Just as quickly as it came, it was gone, and they were back to goofing off again. I slipped in the pool and noticing Justin was distracted, I swam over to him and jumped on his back. I may have accidentally splashed Monty in my jumping. I snuck a peek at him and he was rolling his eyes and laughing. “Chicken?” Justin asked. His hands went to my thighs unconsciously. “No. You dropped me last time. Though it would be entertaining trying to watch the rest of you lift each other.” “We’re strong.” The boys around me protested. They all made a show of flexing. “Yes, yes. You’re all strong and hot. With superior athletic abilities. Go you.” I laughed. “Ha! I told you she thinks I’m hot.” Bryce pointed at Justin. “It doesn’t count if you’re objectively attractive Walker. I also think the blond guy from the Percy Jackson movie is hot. Because he is objectively attractive.” “Objectively attractive?” “You’re lucky you’re rich.” I muttered. Justin choked. “You’re a very pretty man Bryce Walker.” “Do we get called pretty too Addison?” Monty asked.“If you don’t call me by my full name again then sure Monty. You are also pretty. Foley, I swear if you drop me, you’re sleeping on the floor tonight.” His hand tightened around my thigh. The group of us hung out for a while. At some point Scott joined us. Even though we weren’t friends per say, he was still nice to me when I was around. He swam over to my corner of the pool. “I’m supposed to ask you if you think I’m pretty?” “Scott. If you don’t know you’re pretty, I don’t know what to say to you.” “Alright then. Why was I supposed to ask?” “I acknowledged Bryce is objectively attractive and the children felt left out.” “I see. Why are you hiding in a corner?” “Hiding from Justin. He’s trying to get me to play chicken. But I don’t feel like getting dropped again.” “And why does he think you’d get to play with anyone else?” “I think the attempt would be very entertaining actually.” There was a ringing over by the table. “Someone’s phone is ringing.” I called. The ringing stopped and started again immediately. Zach looked up. It was his phone. “It’s probably his mommy calling to tell him he has to come home before it gets dark.” Bryce teased. The boys laughed. I even chuckled a little to myself. Oh, how bad I would feel about that chuckle in a few hours. Zach splashed him. By the time the phone began its second round of ringing again, Zach was out of the pool and grabbing it. He was smiling when he answered it. “Hey Mom. I’m com-.” It was quiet. “Yeah, I’ll be right home.” He hung up and quickly pulled on his pants, over his wet swim trucks. He threw on his shirt and practically sprinted back in the house. He didn’t say a word to any of us as he left.“What’s going on with him?” Bryce said. We all stared after him. A few hours after I got home, I got a text from Bryce. Justin got the same text. Zach’s dad died. Justin and I sat and looked at each other at the table, shocked. We sat there for a solid ten minutes, trying to absorb the information we had been given. I was sure our friends were in the same position. How did you respond to something like that? None of us had ever lost a parent. Sure, I had lost a couple of grandparents. I probably wasn’t the only one. But they’re sort of expected to die. They’re old. They’ve lived. Our parents weren’t old. Not old enough to die yet anyway. I picked my phone back up and texted Zach the only thing I could think to say. He would hear the words a lot in the next few months. I am so sorry. I knew he wouldn’t answer. Zach wasn’t at school for the rest of the week. Not that he should have been. He had been excused from all of his other exams. Because of course he should have been. I didn’t see him until I was walking home from a date with Monty over the weekend. He was just… walking around town. He didn’t see me at first. When he noticed me standing up the street, he waved a little. I waved back and slowly walked over to him. Even though Zach Dempsey and I weren’t really friends, we were friendly. That’s why it didn’t feel weird when the only thing my brain said to do, was hug him. He didn’t cry. He didn’t say anything. He just hugged me back. We didn’t talk about that random, silent hug on the street again. Not for a long time at least. We simply nodded as we parted ways. He walked one way and I walked the other. July changed a lot of things. Bryce left town with his family a few days after Zach’s dad’s funeral. Seth was back in town too. That meant Justin spent most of the first couple of weeks of July at my house. He was right. My parents were not happy about him doing summer school. As his not-mom my mum had a strict ‘no fun until homework is done and checked’ rule. At first, I spent my time with Monty during school hours. We weren’t really sure what the summer meant for our relationship. Those first few dates, we mostly talked about that. “Well, I don’t want to not see you.” Monty said, between kisses in the backseat of my car. We had parked at a secluded clearing overlooking the river. “I don’t want to not see you either. It’s going to be hard though.” “Don’t talk about hard right now Doll. Please.” I pulled away and looked at him wide-eyed. “You don’t strike me as a public sex kind of girl. And I don’t want to get a public indecency charge.” “Yeah. I’m not.” I sat up. “Justin being at my place complicates things.” “Oh, I know.” He ground out as he adjusted his jeans. I could tell my cheeks were flushed. “We knew we couldn’t see each other every day.” “But it’s not easy not seeing you.” “I know it’s not.” “Why does this have to be so hard?” He sat back. “I don’t know.” Neither of us were ready nor willing to have the ‘tell other people’ talk. Even though it had been almost a year. And probably needed to happen. “Seeing each other while school is in, isn’t such a bad thing, is it?” “No.” “And I do have other friends. I could say I’m going to the city with Alex or something. Give us some more time?” “That’s true.” I sighed and ran my hand through my hair. “I could take you to the bookstore.” He blinked at me. “What?” “The bookstore?” “It’s air conditioned.” I shrugged and climbed into his lap. His hands instinctively found their way to my hips. “You just need someone to carry your books again.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I smirked. There was something different about Justin since he started summer school. I couldn’t put my finger on it. He was… distracted. I noticed he spent more time on his phone after homework than paying attention to what we were doing. Which was fine when it was show re-runs or my mom’s pick for movie night. But when you’re trying to play Ticket to Ride with a guy, it’s much easier when they are paying attention. “Hey. Earth to Justin. Hello?”“Huh?” He looked up from his phone. “It’s been your turn for the past five minutes.” “Shit, sorry.” He looked at his cards and the map. Picking up a red and a pink from the pile, he settled back in his chair. Interesting. I frowned at the board, trying to figure out what he was doing. I came back with nothing. His phone buzzed again. I glanced at it. So did he. Then my phone buzzed. He glanced at it. So, did I. It was like we were waiting to see who would grab their phone first. After a few beats, his hand went to his phone. He smirked a little and put it down. I didn’t check mine. I came home from a date with Monty a little late on Thursday. It was nearing five when I walked in the door, after I fixed my hair. I dropped my purse and stopped dead in my tracks. Justin had company. Company in the form of Jessica Davis. Who was currently sitting in his lap. On my couch. Making out with him. On my couch. They had their hands up each other’s shirts. On my couch. I cleared my throat. Jessica pulled away and turned towards me. “Oh, hey Addy.” She greeted, like this was normal. “Hey Addy. You’re… just getting home?” His speech was slowed. Are you shitting me? “Yeah. What’s going on?” “Your parents said I could have a friend over after class.” “Okay.” I blinked. She was still perched in his lap. I glanced at the clock. “I suggest you fix your shirts because they should be home soon. And I don’t think they want to see, uh, this.” I motioned in their general direction. Jessica laughed and climbed off Justin. “Oh, don’t be such a priss, Addison.” “I’m not being a priss. I just wasn’t expecting to come home to people making out on my couch.” She rolled her eyes. “Great to see you too. Hey, Justin. Can I steal you for a sec?” I waved upstairs. “There’s snacks in the cupboard, Jess.” Justin followed me upstairs, trying not to giggle at, assumingly, the fact that he didn’t get caught by my parents. I shut the door when we got to my room. “What the fuck Justin?” “What?” He shrugged. “What do you mean what?” “What?” “Making out with a girl on our couch?” He was trying to avoid eye contact. My parents are going to kill him. “No one was home. It’s not a big deal.” “How long has this been going on?” “I don’t know, a couple weeks?” I blinked at him. He was still trying to look away from me. I grabbed his face and made him look at me. “Are you fucking high right now?” “No? What? Why would you ask that?” His eyes were bloodshot. He was acting very much like Justin when Justin has been indulging in Bryce’s stash. “Don’t lie to me Justin Foley. You know my parent’s rules. Do you want them to freak out?” “Oh, come on Addison. It was a little weed. It’s not that big of a deal.” I sighed heavily. “You know what, whatever. You obviously don’t care. So, I suggest you tell your girlfriend to leave or figure out a way to sober up before they get home. And if that fails, tell her to leave, and come hide in here until you’re sober enough to face them.” I grabbed a book off my shelf and went back downstairs. I nodded at Jessica, who had made herself some crackers and dip. Sitting at the table, I texted Monty. Justin and Jessica? Did you know about this? He responded a couple of minutes later. No? Actually?Yeah. They were making out on my couch when I got home. And to make things even more awkward and complicated, they’re both high. I mean, to be fair, weed isn’t really that bad. Yeah. I know. But that’s not the point. My parents are going to freak. Now is really not the time to be pissing them off. Oh crap. You guys leave for Boston soon, don’t you? Next week. And if Justin can’t keep his shit together… I left the unspoken implication hang in cyberspace. Are you really just going to ignore the fact that they were on the couch?I was hoping to just ignore that fact. Our make out spots are becoming fewer and further between. We could just stay in your bed, Doll. But the couch has the TV. So we can not watch a movie without worrying about my laptop falling. “Who you texting so much?” Jessica asked, trying to peer at my phone. “Friend from Boston.” I said, locking my phone. “Oh, friend from Boston, you say? Is he cute?”“I guess? His girlfriend probably thinks so.” “Oh. Not a secret long distance lover then?”“No. And we grew up together. It would be weird.” I slipped my phone in my pocket and grabbed some cereal. We both looked up when my parents got home. I took that as my cue to go get Justin. I practically kicked him downstairs so he could go entertain his girlfriend with my parents and I could have some time to process how I missed it. Probably the same way he has missed me having a boyfriend for… almost a year. The day before we left for Boston, Justin and I were running around like mad men. I had plans with Monty and Justin had plans with Jessica tonight, so I didn’t want to be too long packing. Unfortunately, neither of us could find anything we wanted to bring. It was going to be nice so I wanted to bring some dresses. We had a few things planned, but like with our other trips, there would be plenty of time to lounge around the house. “Have you seen my pink and green dress?” “The one with the stripes? No. Have you seen my blue shirt?”“I think mum put it in the wash.” “Okay.” Justin went down the hall to the bathroom. “Has anyone seen my shampoo?” He called. “It’s in here.” My dad called from their room. I was busy ripping apart my closet. I groaned in frustration. “You know, it’s just Boston. We go every year.” “I know Justin. I just like to be prepared for every eventuality.” “Yeah. Wait… are you trying to impress Adrian?” Justin laughed. I turned and he was leaning against the doorframe. “No. Absolutely not. Besides, he has a girlfriend.” A girlfriend I happen to like. “If you say so.” He smirked. I rolled my eyes and flipped him off as he went back to packing his bag. I gave up on my closet and decided to tackle our toiletries. I wasn’t too concerned with travel sizes because it was all going in my checked luggage. “Decide what book you’re taking with you Addy?” “Don’t you mean books, plural? It is a 6-hour flight after all.” He laughed. “Okay, okay. Books?” “I’m happy you asked.” I grinned as I pulled out the Barnes & Noble bag from under my bed. His jaw dropped. I shrugged. “Your parents are going to freak.” “They know I went book shopping.” After a very long day of packing, Justin left to go meet Jessica. I texted Monty to let him know I would be leaving in about fifteen minutes. “I’m going to hang out with Alex and Clay for a bit.” I told my parents. “Just remember we leave early tomorrow for the airport Addison.” My dad said, not looking up from his list. My mom was emptying the fridge. “I will.” When I got to the cliffside where we agreed to meet, Monty was waiting for me. I couldn’t help myself. I ran and held onto him like it was the last time I would ever see him. “You’re only leaving for two weeks Addison.” He grunted at the impact. “I’m going to miss you.” “I’ll miss you too.” He kissed the top of my head. We stood like that for a few more minutes before finally separating. I took his hand and led him up the trail. It was good for both of us to be walking the trails. He was starting summer training with the boys while we were gone, and I was going to be sitting for around 8 hours straight tomorrow. Provided our flight wasn’t delayed, of course. It was just starting to get dark, and I stopped along the way to take in the town’s skyline in the evening dusk. Monty rested his chin on top of my head, and I sighed, leaning back into him. It was so peaceful. I looked up and him and noticed a small bruise forming on his jaw. Not wanting to start a fight right before I left for two weeks, I pretended I hadn’t seen it. I smiled sadly to myself still. I wish he would just talk to me about it. After a few hours, wandering around and soaking in the last time we would have for a couple of weeks, which feels like an eternity when you’re 16, we knew it was time to say goodbye. When we got to the parking lot, he made me turn around at his Jeep. I furrowed my brow. Before I could ask, he twirled his finger in the air. I clamped my mouth closed and turned. He rummaged around for a minute. “What are you doing?” “You’ll see. Just wait a minute.” I huffed. He chuckled. “Ah.” He muttered. He tapped me on the shoulder. I turned. He held out a small Barnes and Noble bag. I was taken aback. I wasn’t expecting anything. I pointed at the bag and then at me. “F-for me?” “It’s not much so don’t start.” He smiled, shyly. “Okay.” I took the bag. “I can’t wrap stuff worth shit, so the bag is as good as you’re going to get.” I laughed and shrugged. It was a fair enough explanation. I opened the bag and pulled out a spiralbound notebook. The cover was pink with the titles of all the classics on it. I smiled. “You won’t be here for your birthday, and I know your notebook is getting full so….” Monty trailed off. “Thank you. This is really sweet.” I flipped it open and gasped. On the first page, he had drawn a book like on the cover, and titled it The Next Classic and written Hawthorne at the bottom where the author’s last name sometimes appears. “Happy birthday, Addison.” “Oh.” I smiled. My eyes had started to tear up. This was the sweetest gift anyone had ever given me. I closed the gap between us and kissed him. He pulled me closer to him and I deepened the kiss just a little. Not too much, just enough to make him remember me while I was gone. 

#can't go back #Can’t Go Back #jessica davis #clay jensen #montgomery de la cruz #monty x oc #monty x reader #monty de la cruz #monty imagine #13 reasons why #13rw #13 rw #Thirteen Reasons Why #fan fiction #fanfiction #fanfic writing #fanfic #writing #writer #creative writing #Justin Foley

[codfanficedits]

Before the mask - Part thirteen

Pairing: Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Because Simon wasn’t born as Ghost.

Wordcount: 2050| Rating: E! (18+ only!)

Warnings: mentioning of childhood abuse, an attempt at a decent conversation

A/N: As a true fanfic writer, I have been scheduled to a surgery and I'll be most likely to go MIA for a few weeks while I recover, I'm sorry!

Simon knew it wasn’t fair to take it out on you. He knew it wasn’t your fault, he knew you didn’t raise him to be like this. But in that split second, he couldn’t stop it, his mind was so overwhelmed that he had lashed out.

‘I’m not a violent dog, I don’t know why I bite.’ The quote he had once heard fills his mind, Simon didn’t want to be a violent dog, never wanted to be one, he saw what had happened to violent dogs. But if you mistreat a dog long enough, if you beat a dog long enough. It will only know violence.

His mind is running wild and once more Simon doesn’t know what to do, he could feel you freeze up in his lap, and he doesn’t know if he should wrap his arms around you, beg you for forgiveness, tell you he didn’t mean to, but that he panicked? Or should he keep true to his word, really kick you out and deal with the consequences, he could always make it up to you later.

And oh God. Dear fucking God.

What if you get tired of this? What if he is more broken than you though he would be and what if you grow sick of it? What if you see him for who he really is? A broken boy, with no clue who he really is, just trying to mend his personality to the people he deemed special, so they won’t leave him? A broken boy, who has been hurt so many times before, that he felt as if he wasn’t worthy of attention ever again, especially yours.

A broken boy, who is so angry at the world, because everybody saw what was happening, and nobody tried to stop it.

And those boys live together, making Simon who he is in this moment. All of them together are trying to fight to keep him as safe as they can. And you. You’re dangerously close, you can make him feel vulnerable and that is something Simon struggles with. It goes against who he thought he was.

But maybe, just maybe, he could allow himself to tear those walls down a little bit, to let you in a little bit. Maybe he could allow you to be the guiding moon in the darkness of his mind.

For Simon, this feels like an eternity, while in reality, his little snapping wasn’t more than a few seconds ago.

You blink, once, twice. What the fuck just happened? How did he go from being so.. so.. happy to whatever the fuck this was?

You’re stunned, the way he switched up so fast wasn’t something you were used to.

And his eyes betrayed him. They betrayed how he really felt, they betrayed the turmoil of emotions within. They couldn’t hide the storm that he felt, and you noticed, you could see right through those eyes.

But you weren’t put on this earth to change him, to fix him, to pick up the pieces others had caused and glued them back on. That wasn’t what you were made for, no matter what you had been told.

Of course you felt sympathy for what had happened, of course no one should’ve been raised the way he had been raised, but it was a reason for his behaviour, not an excuse.

“What the fuck, Simon.”

And Simon winces from your harsh words, a sinking feeling in his gut when he realizes he might not get away with this type of behaviour. He wants to open his mouth, to come up with a thousand different excuses as to why he had acted the way he did. But he gets shushed by you.

“No, you listen.” You say, warning him. “We just agreed we have to communicate more, we just agreed to let each other in, and here you are, shutting me out again. You can’t demand that I share my feelings with you, that I share my thoughts with you when things get me overwhelmed, only for you to shut me out.” You get off his lap, feeling that your words don’t have as much power when you’re sitting down. And maybe going for the attack wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but you were only human too.

“You don’t know how it is.” Simon muttered.

“Then tell me how it is!” You didn’t want to raise your voice, but it happened anyway, the frustration getting the best of you.

Simon shuts down again, how could he possible explain what is going on inside of him, when he himself doesn’t fully understand what is happening? And on top of that, how is he supposed to share his feelings. He is a man, and men are not supposed to be soft, to be caring, to be sweet, that is not what he has been taught. And how could one man go against the generational trauma that has bestowed upon him?

“Simon.” You sigh his name and it sounds so sweet to him. “I will never be able to fully understand what you went through, I will never be able to say that I get how you feel, because my upbringing has been so different than yours. But, if you shut me out completely, I will never understand even the slightest part of you, and we can’t have that, not if we want to make us work. So please, for the love of God, don’t shut me out.”

His mind is running, and he is unable to fully comprehend what is happening, his mind is screaming one thing, to brush this off, to snap at you again, to tell you to shut up, but the other part, the part that wants to heal, is begging him to let you in.

The difficult thing about healing, is that it takes place outside of someone’s comfort zone.

And being abused means that Simon has been out of his comfort zone for most of his life, and it’s a battle, a struggle, to give up that comfort zone again, now that he has finally found it. His throat feels dry, no matter how often he swallows, he has to make a choice and he hates that he can’t have a little preview about the outcome of his choice would be, and that alone makes him doubt it all even more.

“I..” His voice drowns out, how should he phrase this? Hell, he doesn’t even know what he wants to say himself. “Scared.”

It seems like you would have to lead this conversation.

You lean against his dresser, trying to let your rational side speak and not your heart. “What are you scared of?”

What was he scared of? Losing you, losing himself, being himself, not being himself. Existing while others had made sure he was broken.

“I.. It’s a conflict.” He eventually managed to say, and he is silently pleading for you to be content with this information.

“A conflict between what?” You try not to let your patience wear thin, you know he can’t help it, you know it isn’t his fault, although you still feel as if his reaction is his responsibility.

Simon fidgets with his hands, cursing himself that a simple morning of crafting, of making the mask he wanted to wear for Halloween had ended up with this. If only he had behaved himself better, if only he had just shut up when he got overwhelmed.

“I have been taught to be violent.” He admitted quietly. “And doing this.” He pauses to gesture to the paper mâché. “This is not violent.”

That was something you could work with, that was something a conversation could be build on.

“What is it about violence, that brings you peace?”

His blood runs cold, his stomach churns and he has to swallow the lump in his throat. He hadn’t told you he found peace in the violence, yet you hit the hammer on the head while you looked right through him.

“It’s all I’ve known.” He muttered. “It’s what I’ve been raised with. It’s what comes naturally.”

It’s saddening to see, really. He hides it so well during the day, when he is out with others, yet right now his childhood takes over, the trauma fronting, taking over his personality, and he could be so much more than just his trauma.

“Is it what makes you happy?” You ask, maintaining eye contact, no matter how invasive it might feel.

Simon shakes his head, while it brought him a sense of peace, a sense of comfort, a sense of familiarity, it didn’t make him happy, he had tasted life without violence, and he craved the sweetness of it.

See, your first reaction was to ask him why he did it anyway, but you knew he didn’t know, it was a habit, reacting out of anger, reacting in a violent matter, it is what his father had taught him was right, and it was what the army had praised him for.

“What did you feel when we were done mask making?” A new question to snap him out of it.

Should he tell you? What if you find him to be weird? What if you think he shouldn’t feel like this? But the gentle look in your eyes makes him believe that you won’t judge him, that you would at least try to understand him.

“At first I was proud.” He admitted with a sheepish smile. “I never really did this type of stuff growing up. And then I felt fear. Fear that I was becoming too soft, and all of the sudden I feel this random wave of sadness coming over me. And that was too much.”

Oh, his words tug on your heart string, he sounds so sweet, so vulnerable, so human.

“What’s wrong with feeling sad, with feeling fear or pride?” It is a genuine question, as you really try to understand what he is going through.

“I am not supposed to feel these things!”

“Why not? You’re only human.”

Only human.

Only human.

He was allowed to be only human.

You could see it in his face, his eyes getting a little bloodshot, a little bit of moisture starting to collect at the bottom lid of his eyes, the soft trembling of his bottom lip, the sharp intake of air when he tries to fight it. A little sniffle, and finally a tear.

Simon Riley was allowed to be human.

Your first instinct would be to hug him, coddle him. Tell him everything will be alright. But you also know that not everyone feels the same way, and the last thing you want to do, is to push his boundaries, especially at times like these.

“What do you need from me?” You ask, your voice soft. “Do you want a hug? Do you want to be left alone? Do I need to get you some water?”

Simon just looks up at you, the tears in his eyelashes makes it hard to see, and while he opens his mouth to talk, no sound comes out, instead he holds out his arms, an universal sign that he needed you.

The moment you’re within his reach, his arms wrap around your waist and he buries himself into you, years of build up rage, build up frustration, build up fear, and sadness, they all leave him through his sobs. His shoulders shake after each cry, and all you can do is stroke his hair, murmur sweet nothings, so he knows it is okay to let go like this.

Although for Simon, it does feel pathetic, it feels wrong to let go like this. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t cry like he is, he should hold it in.

But fuck does it feel amazing to let go, to let the floodgates open and just let everything out.

Your nails gently scratch the skin on his scalp. “You’re only human, Si.” You whisper, barely being heard over his sobs. “And I’m really proud of you for not shutting me out.”

He looks up at you, red, puffy eyes, wet cheeks, but the sobs had stopped. “Fuck.” Was all he could muster. “I have no idea how to feel, what to feel, how to describe it.”

“Then just feel.”

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod mwii #cod x reader #mw2 #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon my beloved #simon riley x y/n #cod fanfic #fanfics #fan fiction #ao3 author #ao3feed #ao3 link #ao3 writer

[angelinasnotebooks]

Hate that my form of hyperfixation is consuming and not creating.

I think I've been falling in love with ideas my whole life. I see colors and concepts and characters, and I want every part of the illusion to play around my body and immerse my mind and soul. I thought growing up I would be an artist. When that mentally shattered, I moved on to thinking I would become an author. Now, however, I don't know what or who I'll be. All I know is that my brain never stops coming up with ideas. 

Yet, with all these ideas comes the possibility of creation. It's what I want, isn't it? I want to create these pictures and stories and share them with the world. So, why am I motionless in my pursuit to bring my mind to life? I have a library in my head. There's a girl in there. Her favorite color is blue. She doesn't know if life is worth living. I have an art museum there too. There's a portrait of a dying renegade, and a demon alter ego desiring joy. Then there's the realm of fandoms. The endless multiverse of continuations and alternatives.  

There's a lot going on inside my brain and imagination. Chemicals I do not understand and signals I cannot control. An abundance of beauty only an individual can conjure with their subjectivity. With no outlet for these thoughts and images, I find it all to be too much at times. Wings heavy on my back and flightless under the pressure. The ability to soar is there, but the weight within is burdensome.  

Every day I come up with something new. Some ideas are fresh while others are another line on the loom, but that is all they are. Thoughts. Ideas. Invisible whisps, webs, and wishes. It's as if the only part of my frontal lobe that works is that of imagination and complex thinking. I attempt short stories, painting, studying, chores, school projects, craft projects and I never get them done. Planning, time management, logical reasoning, and decision-making have all taken a backseat. I can't get any of them done, so I turn to what has already been done. 

I rewatch a favorite show. I read another fanfic. I click on a YouTube video and another. I scroll Tumblr. I read character analysis. I try on the clothes in my closet. I add shit to my wish list. I post photos from two months ago on my Instagram. I relate to autistic ADHD tiktokers. I pretend Pinterest will help me get my life together. I think about the MCU. I watch another comfort, crime, haunted, mythical series. I visit my AO3 bookmarks. I doom scroll whatever app I can get my eyes on. I turn thirteen again and either spiral into a depressive state or become infatuated with the Hunger Games--again.

The point is, I can't force my brain to work on the original ideas. Sitting at a desk with supplies doesn't get my hands moving. I fall numb waiting for my body and mind to comply with my intentions. So, I end up here again. Hitting a heart button to let other people know that their commentary and hard work have reached me, and I liked it.  

I don’t want all my ideas and universes to end where they are. I don’t want to minimize or invalidate my existence, or the experiences of others like me, by remaining artistically stagnant. I want my mind to be a visual tangible galaxy free to be roamed and explored. I want to have my heart in my hands, and I want to give it to every single person that I can. I want these thoughts, these precious ideas out of my head and into yours, dear reader. I don't want to consume; I want to create. If I'm going to go down the rabbit hole, I want to be the rabbit. The entrance maker. Not the lost girl I am right now. 

#angelina's notebooks #audhd #hyperfixation #executive dysfunction #writeblr #creative writing #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #adhd #adhd inattentive #adhd in women #adhd in adults #audhd in women #audhd in adults #task paralysis #pathological demand avoidance #persistent drive for autonomy #mental health #neurodiversity #nuerodivergent #adhd artist #audhd artist #wonderland #under ongoing editing

[khruschevshoe]

Thasmin & How the Changing of Showrunners Handicapped Their Story

You know what? I'm going to rant about it. I've been thinking about Doctor Who from a Watsonian versus Doylist point of view on a constant basis, especially when it comes to showrunners and how the doctor is handed over from showrunner to showrunner and how the exit of Yaz from the show is it possibly the clearest example in the world of this feeling of a showrunner being switched. I'm not talking writing differences, I'm not talking stylistic differences, I'm talking the way that she left the show. Because I would put all of my life savings on the fact that if Thirteen and fourteen had the same show runner, Yaz would have been able to stay around for 13's regeneration. You can feel the writing of the show STRAINING to justify why Thirteen would dump her/leave her behind. It feels abrupt because it IS. Rose got to continue her story with 10 until its organic end. Same with Clara. Hell, even River, though her circumstances were slightly different. There is literally no reason why Fourteen wouldn't go after her the moment the 60th specials end except for the fact that for some absolutely weird reason RTD didn't mention Yaz ONCE despite 14 being more "emotionally open" than the Doctors before him.

Like, I'm going to be honest. I'm mostly ambivalent on Thasmin. I think they're sweet and had potential and got screwed in the build up in seasons 11 and 12 (up until Revolution, even). But if I was y'all I would be PISSED. Because that kind of treatment of Yaz and Thasmin as a love story sucked from both the Power of the Doctor AND the 60th anniversary specials. No closure. No real explanation. No acknowledgement of the main love story of the last showrunner. (Even Steven Moffat name-dropped Bad Wolf/Rose in the 50th special, though he did also have the whole 10th Doctor running around with Elizabeth I thing so maybe that cancels itself out.) The mechanics of the show and how it's run screwed you over. And I'm sorry. I hope y'all get some acknowledgement in 15's Era. I'll be pleasantly and happily surprised if we get a cameo (or some miraculous wrap-up of the storyline ala Husbands of River Song), but seeing how the most logical place for a mention (the toymaker) came and went without a peep I'm not hedging my bets.

(Going to go check out some fanfic, though- and imagine that fourteen took off towards Sheffield the moment the 60th anniversary wrapped!)

#yasmin khan #thirteenth doctor #yaz khan #anti rtd #first time using tjat tag but if the shoe fits #chibnall critical #anti chibnall #rtd crit #rtd critical #y'all deserved better #thasmin #doctor who #meta

[frankencanon]

I think it'd be funny if we made Kakashi even younger.

Can you imagine Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura finding out that Kakashi is only a handful of years older than them?!

I mean, with how little we see of his face it's extremely difficult to tell how old he is...

It was one thing when he was prepubescent and short with an unbroken voice, but once his voice dropped and he reached an average adult height... How would anyone be able to tell?

He's strong, highly ranked, mature for his age, and the proper height for an adult with an adult voice. Anyone who didn't already know his age would be liable to mistakenly assume he's older than he actually is, especially with the grey hair.

And it's not like it's out of the realm of possibility for a teenager to be a jounin sensei—take Minato, for example. He was, what, seventeen? And as talented as Minato was, he's nothing compared to Kakashi when it comes to rising through the ranks at a young age.

I'm pretty sure Kakashi broke literally every record there was when it came to "youngest ever [blank]". Academy student, genin, chūnin, jōnin, ANBU, ANBU Captain... Sure, Itachi eventually beat him in one or two of those, but at the time Kakashi was the sole record-holder; There'd never been anyone like him before.

If we just modify Kakashi's already contradictory timeline... Unimportant info below about the details for just how this could potentially work in canon!!

—WAIT. FORGET ALL THAT.

If you want to read my calculations as to how this could canonically work you may direct your attention below, however I have just come up with a far better and far simpler and also quite possibly both funnier and sadder idea:

Time-travel, but not in any way you're thinking...

Most people assume the reason why they didn't hear much of Kakashi's exploits over the years is because he was in ANBU and so everything was Top Secret and extremely covert...

But what if the real reason was because Kakashi had somehow been sent about a decade into the future? Hence explaining how he could be a teenager still when he was once the Yondaime's student.

Also possible: Kakashi was somehow held in stasis for the past decade—sealed, perhaps? Trapped? Or maybe the work of a foreign shinobi's jutsu (kekkei genkai?) that took about a decade or so to break/deactivate...

Or, my personal favorite:

He was investigating the Uzushiogakure ruins and got caught in one of their defensive seals — one that would seal him for a maximum of ten years, with the intention of giving Uzushio shinobi as much time as possible to deal with whatever intruder(s) got caught in the trap.

Without Kushina or Minato or any other Uzumaki seal experts however, deactivating the seal would be basically impossible — luckily, the seal was set up so that once time ran out Kakashi would be automatically released.

And he was! Ten years later, with little baby Naruto all grown up and almost ready to be placed on a genin team — his genin team.

—

AFFOREMENTIONED DUMB CALCULATIONS FOR HOW THIS COULD POTENTIALLY FIT INTO THE CANONICAL TIMELINE BELOW 👇

—

It's probably boring!! You don't have to read it!!

⚠️ You have been warned!! ⚠️

(It's mostly just me brainstorming, honestly...)

—

Genin at five, chūnin at six... Then he stalls at chūnin for a while before eventually advancing to jōnin at twelve (wherein Obito "dies").

He's approximately thirteen when Rin is killed leading to him joining ANBU, and then fourteen when Naruto is born and the Kyūbi is unleashed on the village, causing Minato and Kushina to sacrifice themselves.

In canon, he is then twenty-six years old when he becomes Team 7's jōnin sensei...

For starters, I vote we cut those six years of chūnin limbo before Kakashi becomes jōnin, dropping him to about twenty-or-so.

Then again, this is fanfic—who cares about canon timelines?

If we put him on the hyper-speed fast-track...

4: Academy student

5: Genin

6: Chūnin

7. Jōnin (Obito dies)

8. ANBU (Rin dies)

9. Naruto's birth (Minato & Kushina die)

Is this ridiculous? Yes! But who cares?

9+12=21

Hm... That's not right.

Alright, this is getting a bit annoyingly complicated.

Even if I downgrade Naruto to eleven (because for a long time I was convinced for some reason that Naruto was eleven while the rest of his peers were twelve, and I still have absolutely no clue where I got that idea from) that would still make Kakashi about twenty. Hm...

Ugh, I'll figure this out later. Can't we just hand-wave it?

—No wait, I have an idea:

While modifying his canon timeline to make him younger is a hassle and a half, the fact remains that until we saw Kakashi Gaiden we didn't actually have any details on his backstory...

In other words? The beginning of the series managed just fine without it, so why don't we just throw it out entirely?

Afterall, this fic is about jōnin-sensei Kakashi—the details of his traumatic childhood are irrelevant, and it's not like early fans had that information to work with anyway.

Naruto is canonically younger than Sasuke (who was a baby during the Kyūbi attack) so we shall put him at eleven to give us some leeway.

Now let's say we wanted to make Kakashi somewhere around sixteen to eighteen during canon—that would require him to be five to seven years old when Minato dies.

Now let's compress his timeline some more:

Considering the Konoha 9 all attended the very first chūnin exams after they graduated, I don't see any reason why Kakashi couldn't do the same—and unlike them he's a prodigy so it's basically guaranteed that he'd pass. (And that's assuming he didn't get a field promotion...)

Give him up to a year to become jōnin, and then have him join ANBU almost immediately after.

Some months later, Naruto is born and the Yondaime dies.

To compress it further, I am making his graduation even more ridiculous:

Academy student at three, genin and then chūnin at four, jōnin and ANBU at five. God, can you imagine a five-year-old ANBU? That'd be terrifying. Naruto is born around the time he turns six, and eleven years later Kakashi passes a genin team for the first time and is made a jōnin-sensei at seventeen, just like Minato-sensei was.

It'll take Team 7 a while to realize that, however.

...WAIT A MINUTE.***

Why am I even bothering to promote him prior to Minato's death? Am I, perhaps, an idiot?

Minato becomes his sensei as soon as he graduates to genin at five years old, but before that Kakashi spent a lot of time as his apprentice and they bonded. Shortly after Team 7 is formed the Kyūbi attack happens and Minato dies — the how doesn't matter, so don't worry about it.

The war is over so instead of Kannabi Bridge they go on some other dangerous mission with the same results, except this time the reason Minato isn't there is because he's dead.

They send some other inadequate chūnin or jōnin in his place, but they promptly get killed early on in the mission, perhaps at the same time that Rin gets kidnapped.

Kakashi is chūnin at this point so he naturally takes charge, despite being a five or six year old and Obito being — I don't know, twelve? Significantly older.

Obito dies, then Rin, and this time it's the stupid Sandaime that sticks Kakashi in ANBU like he's an annoying unwanted child that he wants to keep out of sight and thoroughly occupied — at least, until he needs a jōnin sensei for the Kyūbi's Jinchūriki and the Last Uchiha...

So, final version:

Five years old when Minato dies and Naruto is born, and about five or six years old when Obito and Rin die and Kakashi gets stuck in ANBU, followed by eleven years of Naruto growing up while Kakashi's in ANBU makes him... About sixteen to seventeen years old when Kakashi becomes Team 7's jōnin sensei.

To Kakashi, this feels almost poetic. (Same age as Minato-sensei was...)

#hatake kakashi #kakashi hatake #kakashi sensei #kakashi #naruto #team 7 #au #naruto au #fanfic idea #fanfic prompt #fan fic ideas #fanfiction ideas #fanfiction prompts #fan fiction idea #naruto fic #naruto fanfiction #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi fic #kakashi gaiden

[galvanizedfriend]

Fanfic Update: We'll Always Have New Orleans [4/14]

Summary: Caroline wakes up in a world where everything looks exactly the same, only nothing really is. For starters, she's no longer a vampire, and no one else in Mystic Falls has ever heard of witches, vampires or werewolves - no one except for Klaus, who woke up just as human and twice as angry about it. Their search for answers and a way out takes them all the way to New Orleans, and Caroline could never anticipate how much this crazy fake world was about to alter her reality forever.

[Canon!AU. Set right after TVD 4x18.]

--

Chapter 4: Follow the Yellow Brick Road ✨

Caroline half expects to find Klaus standing guard outside her window like a creep to make sure she won't back out of their road trip - which, full disclosure, she did go back and forth on the merits of it several times throughout the night. The more she thinks about it, the more absurd it seems. It's one of those things where she has to close her eyes and jump before the seat of reason in her brain gets a chance to talk her out of it.

It's precisely why, upon waking up from a horridly slept night, Caroline tries to scrub her mind clear of any practical speculations such as Klaus is not to be trusted or This is too high a risk for something that is essentially a hunch or even Thirteen long hours in a car with Klaus - the last one gives her shudders for reasons she currently doesn't possess the required bandwidth to untangle. Instead, she punches a few essentials into a bag and braces herself for the unknown. Que sera, sera. How much worse can it get, really - she thinks, and then immediately backtracks. In Mystic Falls, whenever you think you've hit rock bottom, you realize there's a trap door and ten brand new layers of shit you can fall into and keep on falling until the end of times.

She chooses to take it as a good sign that Klaus is not outside. They agreed to meet at his place and, paranoid though he was, he seems to have decided to trust that she will keep her word. She reckons the bar is currently very low, but that's progress as far as she's concerned.

But there is something outside which should not be there and, as it turns out, is way worse than Klaus: a police car.

The Sheriff is home. Read the full chapter here -- Well, it's been a hot minute. 🥲 But in case anybody was wondering, no, the story is not abandoned, I'm just slow and have more wips than I can juggle. 🙃 This update is on the shorter side (by my standards) but it took a lot of rewriting compared to the original version. It's actually two chapters combined together (4 and 5). So that means the story will now be 14 chapters long instead of 15. Woohoo! 🥳 As always, your support, comments, kudos and reblogs mean the world to me if you are so inclined. Hope you enjoy the update!

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #klaus x caroline #kc fanfiction #klaroline shippers club #kcfic #klaroline fic #yokan writes

[esta-elavaris]

Part Sixteen [3,495 words] ~ James Norrington/OC

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Page breaks by cafekitsune.

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - *Part Sixteen*

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @teawithshakespeare @missfronkensteen @dancerinthestorm

There was fuck all chance of her sleeping that night. Theo felt like she was going mad, Groves' words reeling through her mind over and over – joining with more than one of Elizabeth's many remarks to her over the last few weeks. You're allowing yourself to be defeated.

Did the fact that it bother her so much make it true?

She hoped not. Being one who took things lying down had never been her. She wasn't that pathetic. She wasn't that weak. But what else did anybody here actually expect her to do? Crawl on her hands and knees after a man who had humiliated her? One who was in love with somebody else? And what difference did it even make to her, anyway? Why did she even care? She'd been a bloody idiot for letting herself feel anything towards him to begin with, the way everything had shaken out had been a good thing. Hadn't it?

Waking up in lands that shouldn't exist didn't just happen accidentally. It wasn't like when she'd mistakenly walked into the wrong classroom during her school days. It took a lot for it to happen, and that meant it had to happen for a reason. What sort of power, what sort of force, would send her here just so she could have a cup of tea with Elizabeth Swann, get herself embarrassed, and wander home again?

The sad and terrible truth of the matter was that she had to be here for a reason. And there was a small, even more sad and terrible, possibility that it was something to do with him. The one she'd bonded with, and the one who was destined to meet a fate that, whatever her opinion of him was now, he did not deserve.

But that only made her feel worse – because sod that. If something…something conscious and coherent had sent her here, and if it had done so in order to offer her up as a consolation prize to a prick who had made it very clear that he didn't even like her…fuck that. Fuck that entirely.

God, but she felt like she was going mad. Never in her life had she been claustrophobic, but on that night she was getting there. A thick layer of clouds hid the mood and kept all of the heat and humidity from the day packed atop them, which did little to help the feeling of being an animal jammed into a cage and prodded at with sticks to see what funny reaction she might have next.

First, she tried to remedy it by getting out of the bed – sprawling out atop the covers, so they were just one less thing weighing down upon her. It didn't work. Neither did opening the windows, or pacing around, or even shirking off her nightgown and donning her clothes from home instead, in an effort to feel somewhat more like herself. Her true self.

Pulling the nightgown back on over them, she raked a hand through her hair, which had long since escaped its plait in all of her activity, and leaned out of the window, staring out at the night, and the coast.

She needed to get out of this house.

James could not find rest. For he had taken Elizabeth's advice – and it had worked. Rather too well. Lying abed that night, he closed his eyes and did all he could to bat out whatever prior plans he had, even going so far as to banish considerations as to what he would have for breakfast the next morning.

It was not easy advice to follow not only for reasons relating to practicality, either, for he couldn't help but wonder if her words had been a roundabout way of rejecting what he knew she must suspect he intended to ask her ere long. But he shoved that away too, and forced himself through the blasted visualisations she'd suggested.

In the first (and he chose the first because it was the easiest) he obeyed Miss Byrne's request to the letter. He kept his distance, he did not speak to her, and she was no longer there – either off to Ireland as she promised, or tucked off with Groves in some corner or another with a blush and a smile on her face. How the rest of the exercise would go should have been clear to him then, based on how the latter of those two prospects made his lip curl.

But the rest of it didn't bring him great distaste. There was just the small matter of the fact that it didn't bring him as much excitement and joy as it once had. The…the satisfaction of having secured a good match, insofar as it checked another box on the list he had that reflected the quality of his life, yes. Alarmingly, though, that was all. Even the knowledge that Elizabeth was a fine and beautiful woman remained, but it did not help. For did she not deserve a man who felt nauseatingly giddy at the prospect of marrying her? As he had, although he'd never had admitted it, only months prior?

When he opened his eyes, he scowled at the ceiling of his bedroom. And he did not proceed to the second bout of play-pretend. Mostly because he had no wish to face what it might foretell.

But sleep would not come.

How long he lay there, he did not know – he only knew that the more time ticked on, the more restless he felt, realising there was no possible way for him to get comfortable. That in itself was infuriating, too, for he was a man of the Royal Navy. Finding it difficult to sleep was not a problem he faced, because he had spent years all but training himself to find rest wherever and whenever he could find it.

This newest problem was a microcosm of greater perils.

Get up.

Shooting up where he'd sprawled atop his bed, he looked about the room. For the voice that had murmured those two words to him was not his own. It was…it was that of a woman. Deep and low, but feminine all the same. But Hattie was abed, no other sound had come from about the house, and there was no possible explanation for it.

Heavens, he truly was losing his mind, and he wondered ruefully to himself if the witch rumours regarding Miss Byrne weren't true after all. But even that joke, and even though it had only been thought to himself, felt cruel after what had transpired between them so recently.

Unease soon overtook the guilt, though, along with a sense of urgency he couldn't place. That he truly should get up – and more than that, he should go out. He tried to return to how he'd reclined before, but found he could not, for the moment he lay back, the urgency increased tenfold, until it had him rolling from the bed and looking for his civilian clothing.

A walk. Perhaps a walk would help. Only to prove to himself that he really was being ridiculous.

Stepping out into the night barely ten minutes later, dressed in his seldom-used civilian clothing, so that any who spotted him might not recognise him and therefore might not speak to him, James allowed his feet to take him wherever they wished to.

As they did so, his mind did the same – towards the line of thinking he'd so steadfastly avoided while in his bed. The other route he might take. Despite the fact that it seemed quite closed off to him now. Despite the fact that it was absurd. Despite the fact that it would have his father turning in his grave, that it made no sense from a logical standpoint, and that he'd resisted the notion so furiously for so long that it took a trudge through the wilds in the wee small hours of the morning for him to even admit that it was tempting.

But all logic, and all denial (for he was at least not so simpleminded that he did not see it for what it was) clouded in comparison to how the prospect seized at his chest. Much his earlier plans had, before Theodora. Before her teasing, and her beauty, and her jokes, and her stubbornness, and her fierce intelligence.

He stepped out of the tree line and realised then just where it was he'd so unwittingly walked to. The small, private beach that the serving classes of Port Royal liked to frequent – and keep hidden from their masters, for the most part. The beach itself was hemmed in by two steep rocky shores, around five or six feet in height at their shallowest portions, curling around the water there in the shape of an open horseshoe, and it was on one of those shores he stood now, affording him a view of the entire beach.

And of the figure swimming in the water.

Now, he wasn't sure she was not a witch. It took a moment of blinking, but it was indeed Theodora Byrne – what little moonlight managed to pierce the thick clouds catching her hair and casting it in shades of deep blood red, and black, at different intervals, where it was scraped back and plastered to her head and neck. What were the chances that he should find her here, like this, as she plagued his very thoughts?

What little light there was illuminated something else, though. Something that had that feeling in his chest he'd utterly refused to label replaced by something far more pressing. Terror.

She could not see it, not from where she swam, and not from her position in the water, the waves bobbing up and down all about her, but a large dark dorsal fin cut through the waves not fifty full feet from where she swam. And it seemed in no hurry to swim away.

Unknowingly, she was swimming with a shark. A very large shark. A tiger shark, if he had to guess. Although he had no wish to.

"Miss Byrne," he called out.

The terror had not had a chance to reach his voice, and he was thankful for that. Stopping, she began to tread water, squinting about her, until she finally spotted him where he stood. She was just close enough that he could see her lips thin, and she smoothed her hair back and called back.

"Leave me alone, Captain."

She made to start swimming again, but he could not allow that. She could not splash. He only hoped she had not done too much of it already. Hurrying to the very edge of the rocks, he leaned out, hoping if he got close enough she might see the urgency on his face.

"Theodora!" his voice was ragged, but it got her attention. "Swim to me."

Outrage filled her expression, and so he continued firmly – desperately – before she could retort.

"Carefully. Do not splash."

In all his life, he had never seen someone's face pale so dramatically, so swiftly. She understood his meaning immediately.

"Are you jo-"

Her head turned a little to the right, and he shouted.

"No! Do not turn. Swim. Swim to me," he extended an arm, as if he would be able to reach far enough to pluck her out of the water.

He did his utmost to use the very same tone he utilised when issuing stern orders to his men – the difference being when he doled out those, his voice did not shake.

For an extended stretch of time – mere seconds that felt like lifetimes – she stared at him, wide-eyed in shock. It was an expression he mirrored, that much he knew, and there was no possible trying not to disguise his horror, not when it ran deep into his bones like this. He knew then that her mind was screaming at her body to push through terror and comply. It was a feeling he knew fine well, from his early days as a soldier. But then, the vaguest hint of a splash sounded behind her, something within her snapped, and she swam.

The fin followed. Fifty feet became forty, and far too quickly at that. Clinging uselessly to the rocks beneath his hands, James watched in terror, the blood draining from his face. He was no stranger to misfortune, nor to danger, nor grief. He had lost men in battle, he had seen the people of Port Royal face all manner of accidents and injury, and yes, even death. And, whatever the rumours were, he was far from unfeeling. Each one pained him.

But nothing – nothing compared to this.

Only her eyes betrayed the true extent of her fear, for while her face was utterly white, she kept control of what she could, funnelling air purposefully in through her nose and out through her mouth, as like to drive off panic than to keep herself moving. All the while, she stared at him, and his outstretched arm.

He could not simply watch. He could not. Refusing to deliberate, for it was not worth deliberation, he shrugged his coat off and tossed it aside – it would only impede him – and the boots followed, for they would do so too. Then, he eased his legs over the edge, and turned, lowering himself slowly down over the stony ledge with his arms, turning one last time before he let go, so that he could take note of where the shark was.

In the water, Theodora's eyes widened.

"No—no! Don't you da-"

However her sentence ended was lost on him, muffled by the water as he slipped into it as seamlessly as he could, body pin-straight to minimise any splashing. The water was cold, but he felt it little and cared even less. It was, however, also black as tar as he plunged beneath the surface, slowly opening one eye and then the other, to minimise the sting and return his sight to him as quickly at possible. That troubled him more. It took only one kick, then another, to surface.

With two in the water, it might consider itself outmatched and leave in search of easier prey. That was the best-case scenario, but he had little control over whether it would happen. What he could control, was his place between it and Theodora.

She was closer when he surfaced, but still out of arm's reach. Face chalk-white, she swam towards him in a breaststroke that was smooth despite how she trembled. The fin was still there behind her – far enough away that one quick lunge wouldn't have her within biting distance, but still far too close for comfort, moving in a slow, lazy circle to take stock of how the situation had changed.

"Go back," she insisted, her voice shaking as much as the rest of her. "Go back now."

James scoffed, and began to swim towards her.

The shore was too far away. If they turned to it, and to more shallow waters, it might sense its prey would soon be lost and act accordingly. No, they would have to reach the rocky shelf, and then climb out. With any luck, it would think they would soon be cornered, and then they would be gone.

So long as the fin remained above the water, that was good. So long as it was there, he knew where it was. He'd have no chance of spotting the beast if he had to stick is face below the waves to look there, not on a night as dark as this. James treaded water the moment he was near enough, and with Theodora's next stroke forward, he clamped a hand about her arm and dragged her towards him, and then behind him, making sure to stay facing the direction she'd come from.

With his left arm out, palm firmly at her back so he knew where she was, he began to swim backwards, kicking his legs as firmly as he could without disturbing the water, his right arm out to the other side to aid him. Beneath his hand, her back shook and gave away the erratic nature of her breathing. Nearer and nearer it drew, until he felt his own limbs threaten to tremble, and he was certain that if it was any closer at all, he'd be able to feel its snout at his legs.

The fin, the size of which he could finally judge at this proximity – much to his dread, for it was a hefty monster indeed, the dorsal fin alone easily bigger than his head – swept to the left and he jolted, ready to reposition himself between it and the woman swimming to his side. But then it rounded again, circling back to face them…and the fin disappeared beneath the water.

He must've made a noise, although he couldn't say what that noise was in his heightened state, and through the hammering of his heart. Without asking what was wrong, Theodora picked up speed, and James followed suit; the hand at her back remained there, but the other began to grope at his belt beneath the water, in search of his knife. It hindered him for only a moment, bobbing, and getting a mouthful of saltwater for his efforts, but then it was in hand.

Every time a wave slapped at him, he braced himself for something more – a stronger, more deadly force to barrel out at him from beneath it. His back met rock, and rather than turning, he sidled leftwards and caged in Theodora with his body.

"Climb," he ordered raggedly.

She obeyed without question, knowing that the situation was too serious to bicker. Thank God. The rocky wall did not make for easy climbing, its ledges too shallow to offer helpful hand and footholds, but she made progress all the same, James reaching blindly behind him to push her upwards and discern her progress, their circumstances too serious for him to afford blushes to propriety when his hands blindly met the smooth, toned flesh of her thighs and calves.

Especially when, at his next kick, his foot struck something solid. In response, the water before him rippled in a way it had not before – a way that was not natural, indicating disturbance below the surface. Water ceased dripping down upon his head, and he knew Theodora had cleared the climb. That, at least, offered relief.

"Grab my hand, James! Grab my hand!" she was screaming down at him.

He looked up and saw her leaning entirely over the ledge from the waist down, arm outstretched to him, eyes wide and desperate. If his heart pounded in his chest anymore, he'd surely have a heart attack. Forcing control upon his breathing, he was already debating whether it would be safe to switch the knife from his right hand to his left, when a splash sounded behind him, and a terrible, gaping and jagged maw was surfacing up through the water and heading straight at him.

Its mistake, had it been capable of reason, was that. For there was no water to slow down his arm. Lashing out with the knife, James slashed strongly and blindly both at its snout. The first slash made little difference, but the returning one he dug in deeper, and aborted the beast's attack at the last possible moment. A hot sensation ran down his arm, but he knew not whether it was his blood or that of the shark's. If the former, he had little time left in this water. It was a miracle he'd survived thus far.

Before it could recover, he spun, and Theodora's hands were grabbing his, clamping around his forearm as he grasped her own. She hadn't backed up an inch when it lunged. With his other hand, he wedged the knife between his teeth, stomach churning at the taste of blood and saltwater as it dripped between his teeth, and yanked himself up, assisted by her tireless, and surprisingly strong pulling.

One more haul – on his part, and on hers – had him clearing the edge, and they fell onto the rocky ground in a tangle of limbs and sodden clothing. The water over the ledge went quiet, as if it had never contained anything at all.

A/N: :^) - no, WAIT…. ~~~~~~~~~^~~~~~~~~~~~\o/~~~~~

Listen, if you know me AT ALL, you know how hard it was for me to keep this under my hat without making any dumb jokes or giving the game away with any hints. (Save for one shark meme that popped up by chance on my dash the other day, because that was just too funny and too perfect.) For months. Especially to the friends I've made through fic writing, who read this. I thought I was going to explode. Fucking hell.

Anyway, my party trick is being able to recite the Indianapolis speech from Jaws perfectly from memory and it shows.

#ctw #catch the wind #ftt #fallen through time esta-elavaris #james/theodora #james x theodora #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #potcfic #james norrington fanfiction #james norrington fanfic #james norrington x oc #james norrington/oc

[faeriekit]

Hey gang. So:

1) If I ask a yes or no question about something I’m posting, a. I don’t need two paragraphs about your reasoning as to why you have this opinion, especially if the update it’s about is already posted and isn’t going to change. A “yes, cool” or “nah, not really” will suffice. b. I don’t need four different responses about how much you dislike the direction I’ve taken, and neither do I need to see attempts to rope in other users to have you...actually change their mind? It’s perfectly fine to dislike my writing or one of my writing products. But make your own post about it, please, so I don’t get blasted with six different critiques simultaneously in my notes. This is a boundary I am about to enforce via blocking, because:

2) Writing fanfic is a personal hobby and mode of de-stressing of mine. I’m not a professional writer. I am using tumblr as a mode of publishing, so clearly this isn’t that deep. I have to keep it not-that-deep for personal reasons, because the literal instant that this becomes work, or worse, an actual stressor, my brain shuts down any creative interest and I go back into anhedonia mode. If anhedonia has never been on your symptoms sheet before...it sucks. It really does.

3) I work eleven hour days. I am in my final semester of grad school. I have homework to do nightly. The finals due this month will determine the course of my career. This fic has largely turned my eleven hour days to thirteen-to-fifteen hour days when I include meals. The turnaround on Blister Pack has been incredibly short, considering the daily update pattern. It’s okay to not like raspberry scones or whatever you want this metaphor to be, but if I offer you raspberry scones after spending my only free time baking them and your response is to tell me the mistakes I’ve made in the process, then. Well. I’m certainly not going to consider baking my fun hobby I do with friends anymore.

I’m not going to blame anyone for this. This is not anyone’s fault. Since BP has largely gotten ten times more popular than I ever imagined it would be, I’m ngl, I was largely expecting something to go wrong way earlier than this. This is about how I will proceed in the future and how I hope we can get along in the future. Feel free to read. Feel free to dislike. Feel free to-- idk, make your own post where you get vocal about where my writing goes and why you personally don’t like it. Sure. Just don’t make me see it and...what, expect me to uproot the story? Rewrite it to match your personal view of the media and of the fic? I don’t always know what people’s intention are when they comment this tbh; if I dislike a fic, I just stop reading. 

Anyway, the block button is on the table as far as options go, but I trust the vast majority of you and we clearly haven’t had problems about this previously. Blister Pack is finished in its word doc. I just have to trick my brain into thinking that posting the ending isn’t a threat to my internal wellbeing.

Thank you for reading the little I write, thank you for the well-intentioned comments, even if I couldn’t receive them in the manner you intended; and thank you for sharing your thoughts and interests when you have the energy. I often feel as though writing is very isolating, and though I often get too overwhelmed to respond, I have read every single individual comment that has been sent to me. Comments. Tags. Replies. Everything. You’re the glue that’s been holding my motivation together to finish this for once.

Once Blister Pack is posted, this will be the first fic I have finished since...since I wrote my first fic a decade ago. Fucking Hells. 🥂

#it's the symptoms disorder man #if I could fix it I would #faer nonsense

[obeymycok]

I wanna talk about Thirteen

I'll admit I wasn't crazy about her when she first came out for a couple reasons.

I downloaded the game for the brothers and I already don't really like interacting with the side characters so much

I haven't interacted with her in the main story yet

The events and cards she was in (that I've played) she seemed very dismissive of MC (idk I just got mean girl vibes)

Some of the fanfics I'd read only seemed to mention her traps and made her seem outright bitchy (like pranking is the only thing she does and she's just plain mean to others)

BUT

The newest Devil Day event really shocked me

SPOILERS*

First off, immediately rushed to help MC in finding solutions on breaking the curse, even left her phone in the classroom. Second, this is the first time I'd seen her act remotely nice to MC

She gives a crystal to contact us because why bother going back to the room when there's solutions for her to find!!!(also giving MC a present???👀)

I'm getting Mammon vibes from the screenshot I took and I'm a huge Mammon simp "I'm too shy to tell you how I really feel so I make lame excuses that tease you a bit"

Later on she also sees us sad after the solutions aren't working and she says something along the lines of "Aw come on, it's not like you to be so down in the dumps. We'll keep trying and figure it out."

And then the official obey me YouTube channel released Thirteens HDD message and it's just so fucking sweet???

She made a party cracker she's super proud of and pretty much asked us on a date to blow some shit up and then go out to eat

I am in love

Plus the little blush on her face!!!🥺🥺💜💓

Overall: I thought she had literally no interest in MC as a person so I didn't really vibe with her but then she starts being nice to us and I'm in love

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me thirteen #obey me discussion #i am in love #omswd #obey me swd #Youtube #user speaks

[marvelousartcatastrophe]

Me: Im drowning in work and I’m overwhelmed. I graduate in three days. I move out in a few months. No one is reading Miracle Box but still I post lengthy chapters with illustrated scenes weekly. My second actual book project is dragging me through the dirt and I’m afraid I’ll make a big publishing gap between the already published on and the sequel. Im falling behind on my YouTube upload schedule this year. I have too many art projects going on. I can’t possibly do anything else.

Also me: lmfao what if I started a percy jackson fanfic *has written five chapters already*

So anyways yea it’s called “Percy Jackson and Thirteen Reasons Why I Thought the Titan War Was Over” if y’all want me to post it somewhere lmk ;0

#miraculous #mlb #art catastrophe #chat noir #ladybug #mlbrewrite #art catastrophe mlb rewrite #miracle box #art catastrophe miracle box #Percy Jackson #Percy Jackson crossover #pjo #pjo crossover #AOT #attack on Titan crossover

[shayyprasad]

ᴄʟᴀʏ ᴊᴇɴꜱᴇɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

「 inbox | OPEN 」 ☆ 「 requests | OPEN 」

angst: ✮ fluff: ♡ hurt/comfort: ○ spicy/smut: ➳

series:

none yet!

drabbles/concepts:

none yet!

headcanons:

game - how you and clay became you and clay. (♡)

oneshots:

none yet!

updated 4/21/2024

#clay jensen x y/n #clay jensen fanfic #clay jensen imagine #clay jensen fluff #tom holland x reader #13rw self insert #13rw #13 reasons why #thirteen reasons why

[alastairstom]

A Combination of Shock and Awe - A Matthew Fairchild Fanfic

You can read this fic on Ao3! I'm just posting it here because it's short. And also because it's a Festive Halloween Fic and my blog should have Festive Halloween Content.

-

1899

Matthew thought that becoming parabatai with Jamie was an astounding development for a multitude of reasons. He was never in want of a training partner; he was never left to fend for himself when it came for book recommendations. He always had someone to decamp and disport himself with, someone who he could try new fashions out on so he himself did not need to fear looking ridiculous or unstylish.

But another peculiar thing about preparing for his parabatai vows was Matthew’s newfound proximity to James’s family. He had always liked them, Aunt Tessa and Uncle Will. Uncle Will was especially amusing, and Matthew enjoyed nothing better than amusement.

Which is why, when the calendar read 31 October, Matthew determined that he would dress himself up as someone who completely lacked charm or wit or anything else that made life worthwhile: his noxious nob of a brother, Charles Buford Fairchild.

Granted, it was unkind of Matthew to steal Charles’s clothes in an attempt to mock his horrid dress sense. Still, because Matthew would never wear something so drab himself, he was forced to scrape through the stuffy, pretentious, colourless nonsense that was Charles Buford’s dismal wardrobe. He unearthed a suit that was entirely too big for him; sensible, he supposed, considering that his brother was nearing his twenty-first birthday while Matthew himself was a mere thirteen.

Age, he knew, did not cause a person to develop good taste.

Putting on the dark green and speckled grey abomination was like nails on a blackboard. But Matthew persisted. Commitment to the bit was important, he knew, and he did not like to do things by halves.

So when he looked in the mirror, he was pleased to note that he shuddered dramatically. He then strode over to his closet and pulled out his coup de grace: a low-quality red wig that he had obtained from an odd faerie woman selling hideously ugly apparel in Westminster. It was slightly uneven on his head; he suspected that it was made for an adult, which made it sag awkwardly on his face.

Matthew steeled his expression into seriousness. “I am quite important,” he said in what he believed to be a passable impression of his worm of a brother. “I am to be the Consul one day.”

Satisfied, he emerged from the room to head over to the Institute; Jamie would be waiting, dressed as someone from such-and-such Greek mythology. Matthew thought this was mostly an excuse for him to dress up in rags, or perhaps a burlap sack. He wished to throttle his parabatai to-be for his lack of taste, but alas, whither he diest, Matthew would also die.

Yes, he would-

“What,” said a disapproving voice behind him, “are you doing?”

Matthew turned to meet Charles’ narrowed green eyes. He laughed brightly; Charles could look immensely sour when he wished to. “I am headed off to the Institute to wreak havoc and cause mayhem. Would you like me to bring you back a souvenir of some kind? Perhaps faerie drugs? May lighten you up a bit.” He paused as Charles’s face turned quite a bright shade of red. “Do you remember what it was like to smile, Charles?”

“Those are my clothes,” Charles said, not answering.

“Unfortunately,” Matthew agreed. “No accounting for taste.”

“What is with…” Charles made a vague gesture about his head.

“A wig. Angel, Charles, I thought that even you might recognize that.”

“You have dressed as me as some silly prank,” he said. “Are you ever going to grow up, Matthew?” He shook his head. “Angel, I will never understand your ridiculous nonsense. Take it off.”

“You wish for me to disrobe? We’re brothers. That ought to be one of the few limits on my charm.” Matthew raised his eyebrows.

Charles flared his nostrils.

“Oh. I nearly forgot,” Matthew said. He walked up to Charles and clapped him on the shoulder. “I did not draw freckles.”

“What?”

“I said that I did not-”

“I will be coming with you to the Institute,” Charles said angrily, swatting Matthew’s hand away. “Just because Mother and Father are out of town does not mean that I need to contend with this… this grave insult-”

Matthew laughed cheerfully. “Alright,” he said fearlessly. “Lead the way.”

-

As Matthew often thought, Uncle Will was a truly amusing person.

He sat across from Matthew now, dressed as Frankenstein’s monster. His feet were kicked up onto his desk, and his position as the head of the Institute felt a sharp contrast from the devilish smile on his green-painted face. His eyes darted between Matthew and Charles, and Matthew did his best to mirror Charles’s precise expressions. He supposed he was likely succeeding; Will’s blue eyes were shining brightly in amusement.

“So,” he said. “Charles. You appear to have a complaint. Do tell.”

“Yes.” Charles’s voice was businesslike, detached. “I demand that Matthew remove my clothes and cease impersonating me at once.”

“Hm,” Will nodded. “Why do you wish for him to do that?”

Charles blanched. “Obviously because of how foolish it is.”

“I see,” Will responded calmly. “Much like Newton once said, I understand the gravity of the situation.’ Speaking of, would you like a caramel apple? Tessa did not let me put bits of chocolate onto the surface – I do so wish my wife’s perfection extended to her tastes. But alas, one cannot have everything, and as she has dressed up as Elizabeth Frankenstein to accommodate my whims…” Will shrugged.

Matthew laughed; Charles blinked, clearly baffled.

For his part, though, Will continued. “In any case, though, I do wish to hear Matthew’s perspective on the matter at hand. Matthew, why are you wearing that ghastly wig?”

“It is ghastly,” Matthew said somberly. “Thank you for noticing. It’s quite simple, really – I needed a costume that would leave a combination of shock and awe in its wake, which posed a challenge as I am routinely shocking and awe-inspiring.” Will nodded approvingly as Matthew continued. “This seemed an entertaining concept, and I do believe that Charles needs someone to poke at his lack of humor periodically.”

“Are you honestly listening to this? William-”

Will held up a hand, silencing Charles. “I do believe I have heard both sides of the argument,” Will said. “I must take all angles into consideration without bias. Having said that, though, I have made my decision.”

“I am a busy man,” Charles bit out. “I am to be the next Consul, and I am far too old for this childish nonsense. This was a lot of work just to make you take off a horrible costume.”

“So you admit that it’s horrible?” Matthew smiled like a cherub.

“Now, now,” Will interjected. “I have a proposed solution to the problem. Charles, you are angry that Matthew has dressed up as you; you wish for him to remove the costume. Matthew, you wish to continue to dress up as Charles.” His eyes darted between both brothers. “Do I correctly understand the situation?”

“Yes,” Matthew said happily. Charles hissed the same “yes” angrily; Matthew thought that he should learn to take a jest. After all, as his personal hero once said, life was too important to be taken seriously.

“Alright,” Will said. “It seems that the only fair course of action, then, would be for Charles to dress up as Matthew in turn.”

“What?” Charles hissed.

Matthew cackled. “Oh, I quite like that solution, Uncle Will. I think you ought to mandate it. A decree, as head of the London Institute.”

“This is an outrage.” Charles’s voice was dangerous.

“I fail to see the issue,” Will said, his calm tone laced with lazy amusement. “So your brother is mocking you, Charles. Fight back! Put on something bright, possibly pink-”

“Pink is a very stylish color,” Matthew agreed. “Especially paisley print. Scarves-”

“You are both terrible,” Charles said, his face puce. He stomped out of the room like a very bad actor in a very bad play, and Matthew clapped fittingly before turning back to Will.

“Well,” Will said. “That was truly something. Do you truly intend to wear that all day?”

“Yes,” Matthew informed him. “Do you dislike it?”

“Not at all. It’s a fine impression.” Will reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a blue taffy. “Here – you dressed up. It would be poor form to allow you to leave without a treat in exchange for your clearly painstaking efforts.” Matthew popped the taffy in his mouth as Will continued, grinning. “No do get out of my office, Matthew. And call your Aunt Tessa in, would you? I wish to attempt to scare her again with my face paint – perhaps this time I can make her truly jump.”

#matthew fairchild #will herondale #charles fairchild #tlh #the last hours #my fic

[soukoku-fic-recs]

Do you have any completed fifteen year old skk fanfic?

Hiiii!!

Of course! Here are some of my faves:

Switched by Yellow_Canna: Each human in this world was born harbouring two different souls inside them. The first soul being the dominant soul—the soul of the body, and the second soul being the soul of their other half which was what they called a Soul Mate. Whenever a person’s life was endangered or was under extreme stress, a strange phenomenon would occur where their personality changed into a completely different person’s. This phenomenon was called the Switch. “Mama! Dinner has been prepared!” “Mama! Was your bath pleasant?” “Mama! Did you like the camellia flowers?” “Mama!”The calls of "mama" echoed throughout the air as Chuuya froze at the doorway, eyelids jumping nonstop at the young boys crowding around him. Nakahara Chuuya, age fifteen, has become the owner (mama) of a gay brothel (whore house) within Yokohama’s underground red-light district. Chuuya was going to kill his Soul Mate.

The Color of Your Eyes, is the Color of the World by justherefortheride09: "He looks up at the boy stepping on him, their eyes lock, a blue-gray color in them. Blue... he can't see blue. Yet, the always gray sky behind the boy was gaining color, but Dazai's focus was only on the blue-gray eyes glaring down at him. He ignored the change and answered normally to the boy. He knew what had happened, he had met his soulmate. But, he also knew that the boy stepping on him wasn't experiencing what he was. It made him intrigued, curious of his apparent soulmate, to say the least. The boy had short orange hair, a green leather jacket, and his hands were in his pockets, Dazai quickly realized who the boy was, the King of the Sheep, Nakahara Chuuya." Or: the color soulmates fic nobody asked for.

wolf among sheep by Shinkirou: Joining a local gang of orphaned children at the age of thirteen hadn't exactly been Dazai's plan in life, but realistically speaking, it isn't like he has anything better to do, so... Why not?(There are, of course, many reasons to not do that, but, well. Dazai's boredom is a powerful thing.)[AKA the completely self-indulgent "Dazai joins the Sheep" au that nobody asked for.

Wait, we're married? by hasa3810: At the young age of fifteen, Chuuya tricks Dazai into marrying him. At the age of twenty two, Dazai confronts Chuuya about it.

Bandaged Sheep by MidnightLightHowlite: There had been something very weird, very off about the new recruit. He had popped up out of thin air a few months ago, wrapped from head to toe in bandages. Not a word of what he did before, saying he wanted to join the sheep. He wasn't strong or skilled, and truly, there was no logical reason for Chuuya to pay him any mind.But then the Port Mafia put a huge bounty on his head and things started to get interesting.

meltdown by whiteautumn: Something’s different today. Chuuya grinned, eyes sharp and anticipatory. It’s been a while since anything exciting has happened. Whatever comes at him today, he’s ready. Two boys meet, and it's the beginning of an earth-shattering relationship. Chuuya has found what's his, but everyone has their own motives.Including Dazai.

oh darling it's alarming to think of us apart (you know you've got me in your pocket) by interludewings: “Okay so if we’re both still single when we’re twenty two,” Dazai’s smile grew even wider. “Let’s marry each other.” By the time Chuuya’s twenty two, he’d probably be in a relationship with someone else, and the possibilities of them even remembering each other were slim to none. And so, Chuuya gave his answer. “Fine, let’s do that.” In short, fifteen year olds Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya made a stupid promise one day in their school library out of boredom, which leads to the next seven years of their life filled with fighting, burnt notebooks and late night conversations.

To Rewrite Fate by purplesan: ‘Don’t you have something you still want to do? A place you still want to see?’ The boy shrugged. ‘What’s the point if the memory of having done that will only die with me anyway?’ ‘There are things I’d like to show you, if you’d let me. Maybe they will change your mind after all. We’re about the same age, right? Maybe we could be friends.’ Chuuya didn’t have many of those himself. ‘Why would you want to be friends with someone who wants to die? I’ll just leave you and make you feel sad again. I’ve done it before.’ Was he talking about a previous friend he’d abandoned? Somehow, the sentence just didn’t make sense to him. ‘Well, we don’t know that unless we try, right?’

a burning hill by icaarus: "Has anyone ever told you your hair is the same colour as autumn leaves?" Chuuya Nakahara, a fifteen year old weapon made for Japan that was terminated after deemed too emotional.  Dazai Osamu, a fifteen year old grim reaper standing over Verlaine's body in that God-forsaken lighthouse. Two demon prodigies on opposite sides of a war neither had asked to be swept up into, fighting for revenge and the freedom that awaits them in death. In the end, two wrongs do not make a right, and they are no exception. As Dazai pulls the pin from the grenade, Chuuya smiles. And so they burn.

Hope you enjoy and have a wonderful day!! ^ - ^

-f

#dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #soukoku #fic rec #fifteen #soukoku fanfic #bsd fifteen #soukoku fanfiction #bungou stray dogs

[ovenscookbook]

~Where The Heart Is Recipe Progress~

Summary: Ered Luin is crumbling. In order to save their families and the kingdom, the Company of Thorin Oakenshield embark on a quest to reclaim Erebor, with the help of un-Hobbitish Hobbit and traveller, Bilbo Baggins. A quest full of twists and turns, familiar faces and unknowns, together, they unearth the stories all thirteen of them hold, and relearn the true meaning of 'home'.

Words written: 350k+

Chapters written: 25

Chapters left: 15~16 (including epilogue)

Arcs finished: 1/2

How it started: In a single doc on the notes app

Highlights/favorite brainstorms of the fic:

Ideas that didn't make the cut:

(you could also find actual scenes I've scrapped in another fic: Where The Heart Is — The Deleted and Unwritten Scenes)

The plan so far: Writing up the next few chapters and edit the fic as a whole. Meanwhile, write and post other fanfics such as Stay, Stay, Stay and Crisis Averted. If everything goes to plan, WTHI should be finished by mid-late summer or early August.

Possible edits: Besides grammar corrections, I am planning to alter the scene where Dori and Bilbo reunite with the Company in the trees. I also plan to tweak some wording in order to set the Company's relationships with each other in the way I want it. I'd also want to tidy up the timeline if possible.

Possible subjects for the next arc: Oh lord, I already have a whole list in my notes app. Looking at the first few subjects, the most likely ones are writing about the reconciliation of Gloin and Tauriel, Dwarrow conspiring that Bilbo is a spy, and further addressing the trauma amongst the Company.

Other notes: Just — thank you to everyone who read, kudosed, commented, reblogged, or simply just interacted with my work. Writing this fic has been truly gratifying for me, and has been a reason why I wake up in the morning. I cannot express into tangible emotions how I appreciate each and every one of you, so I hope that it could just practically radiate through the screen. Thank you all again.

Please ask questions! I have lots of notes regarding almost every aspect of WTHI, and am very eager to share it on this blog!

#fanfic #the hobbit #where the heart is #archive of our own #oven writes #writeblr #writing #fanfic progress report #fanfic progress

[khruschevshoe]

Listen, I know I am throwing a bomb with this one and I'm going to take off running the moment I drop it, but I don't actually like the fact that Donna got her memories back? It's for the same reason I don't like the day of the doctor, and that it feels like there was this deus ex machina that was applied to the situation to make a tragedy less tragic, therefore taking away from the impact of what happened originally. Like, I would love to read this in fanfic, but not in canon as it kind of undermines the emotional impact of what happened with Donna in the same way that The Day of the Doctor completely undermines all of the character growth/destruction that 9 and 10 went through.

(Which is why I'm actually okay with bigeneration as a sort of happy ending concept because it allows the Doctor to heal himself/comfort himself WITHOUT removing/retconning tragedy, but I also don't know how you'd do that the same way without having Donna regain her memories...

Except yes, I do, you could have Thirteen bigenerate into Fifteen and let her stay with Yaz, whose ending always felt a bit...abrupt and unfinished to me in a way that Donna's felt like a closed tragedy.)

#*throws hands over my head and runs away* Please don't kill me #listen it's just personal taste for me #and i understand why rtd did it #i LOVE fix it fic so much #i YEARN for happy endings #and i also understand why someone who has gone through the grief that he has would want to give his characters happy endings #but it emotionally undermines the writing for me #fourteenth doctor #doctor who 60th anniversary #tenth doctor #donna noble #listen i also didn't like the day of the doctor for this reason #day of the doctor #the star beast #wild blue yonder #the giggle #doctordonna #listen i can give the shippers something #thasmin #GIVE THIRTEEN AND YAZ SOME CLOSURE OR SOMETHING #yasmin khan #thirteenth doctor #fifteenth doctor #meta #i know these are fighting words #doctor who