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varls · 4 years

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Title: Here For You Characters: William Schofield, Tom Blake & Reader Pairing: Blake x Reader Request: 1917 fic where the reader is sent with Schofield and Blake and the reader ends up saving Blake’s life? You can decide if it has a fluffy or angsty feel, I’m just in need of 1917 fics — @rubinstein1798 Summary: You don’t really understand why Tom chose you to come with him and Will and you’re not happy about it. But as it turns out, it’s good you’re with them. Warnings: tw death. Word Count: 1.607 A/N: cheesy, cheesy, cheesy

You still couldn’t believe the mission you were sent on. It was easily the most dangerous thing the three of you ever did. Fighting on the battlefield was one thing, but to cross the german front line to deliver a message to the 2nd Devon… that was a whole new level of danger. You could still lie in a field of flowers and verdant green grass, pretending everything was fine if it wasn’t for Tom. You were friends. You were very close. And, of course, there was no way you could have said no when he asked you to come along. But still, a part of you wished someone else was here with him, and you knew Will felt the same. Both of you loved Tom too much to just let him walk into his death, which this journey could most possibly be. Also, you did kinda owe it to him. He saved your life so many times during battle, you lost count. It was as if he always kept an eye on you. Whenever you needed him, he was there for you. He was the kind of man who lent you his jacket when you were cold, or his chest when you needed a pillow. But what you adored most about him, was his way of cheering you up. He somehow always seemed to know a funny story to tell or to act silly with you when you needed to smile. It even made Will laugh, who quite often answers Tom’s attempts with an “I’m not in the mood” at first. There was no one quite like Tom. Or maybe there was and you just haven’t met them yet. Right now he was walking next to you. Will went ahead as you were walking towards an old farm in the middle of wide fields. It was obvious that the Germans have been here already. The old house seemed to be abandoned, demolished. Dead cows were lying in the grass not far away. You never quite understood why they’d kill animals too, but you weren't sure you even wanted to know. “Stay close to me, (y/n),” Tom said in a quiet voice. “We might not be alone.” You just smiled and nodded. Of course, you were capable of protecting yourself, but you had the feeling it meant a lot for Tom to be the one to protect you. You followed him to the yard while Will went inside the house. You held your rifle in front of you, ready to shoot if necessary. But it was all quiet, no signs of german soldiers. “I think we’re safe.” “There’s no one inside.” Will came back, confirming your assumption as you let go of your gun. As the oldest of the three of you walked over to the barn, you accompanied Tom who gave you a little smile. “Let’s see where we are, huh?” His hand ran into his pocket to grab the map General Erinmore gave to him earlier. On paper, your path did not seem to be long. But a piece of paper also didn’t show exploding bunkers or enemy aircraft. “You see where we are?” It was Tom’s question which made you study the card more carefully. He took a step closer, his arm touching yours. And if that wasn’t enough, he handed you one side of the map, lightly touching your fingers. You suddenly felt your cheeks grow warm, but you tried to ignore it. You didn’t realize Tom was looking at you and could see your skin turning red. How he loved seeing you like this. He thought it looked cute on you. On the other hand, he always thought you were beautiful. He was just too scared to admit it. After all, no one could tell if both of you will be alive at the end of this war. He didn’t want to be the reason your heart broke into pieces in case he wouldn’t survive. The reason you kept quiet about your feelings was pretty much the same. If you would have met at another time, another place, things would be different. “We must be somewhere here,” you finally answered, pointing at the map. Tom looked away from you to follow your gesture. “I see,” he said, leaning in closer. “So all we gotta do is go southwest, pass through Ecoust… and then go all the way east to… Croisilles Woods. Won’t be a problem!” You frowned but didn’t say anything. Tom was right to stay optimistic. Your mother always said if you want to accomplish something, you have to be faithful and never doubt yourself. And Tom needed to reach the 2nd Devon more than you or Will. The life of his brother depended on your success. And you know how much he loved him. Most funny stories where about the two of them, when it was still quiet and peaceful at home. A loud noise from up above drew your attention to the aircraft in the sky. Two against one. “Is it our friends again?” Tom asked as both of you stepped closer to Will, who went up a small hill to have a better view. “Looks like it,” he said. All three of you watched in silence. Suddenly one of them caught fire. The plane fell from the sky and you continued to just stare. Maybe, if he managed a proper landing, you could help him. It took you a few seconds to notice that he’d come down right where you’re standing. “Oh, s-” you started, but before you could jump out of the way, you felt an arm around you as you were dragged to the side. You fell to the ground, right between the boys. Tom was holding onto you for dear life. You felt his warm breath on your cheeks. It would probably calm you down if it wasn't for the aircraft crashing into the barn behind you. It came to a halt just a few feet away from you. Will was the first one to react. Screams were coming from the fighter as the fire grew hungrier. The boys ran to help the pilot, but you stopped as you realized the fighter was german. You knew that, sometimes, all three of you were a little too kind, and wondered if this was one of those moments. But on the other hand, what kind of monsters would you be if you’d just let this man burn alive? You could never look at yourself again. German or not, he was human and maybe even had a family. You knelt beside the injured man, whose legs were burned. There was no way he could survive without an amputation. “Ich will nicht sterben,” he said, and you knew he was pleading for his life even though you couldn’t understand a word he said. “Wasser... Bitte, Wasser.” “We should put him out of this misery”, Will stated and you agreed with him. There was no way he’d reach the meds on time. He’d be dead long before they’d make it. But Tom, as hopeful as he always was, disagreed: “No, get him some water. He needs water.” “Tom,” you tried to reason with him, but he wouldn’t listen. “Go!” he said, and this time Will stood up and quickly went over to a nearby well. You looked at Tom, but he was concentrated on the german pilot. You could hear him speaking quite words of encouragement. Did he honestly believe there was a chance for him to survive or was he just trying to be as hopeful as possible so the man wouldn’t panic? You couldn’t tell and so you kept quiet. That was, until you saw something flashing in the corner of your eye. It was the blade of a knife. Before you could react, the pilot aimed for Tom, but he missed, only just streaking his uniform. “Wh- Stop!” Tom yelled, but it didn’t stop the man from trying yet again. You reached out. Your fingers grabbing the gloved hand of the enemy and you stopped him just before he could ram the blade into Tom’s stomach. A hit that would have killed him. The pilot tried to free his hand from your grip and strike you. He seemed to use all his strength as you were having trouble holding him back until Tom put his hands over yours. Together you pulled the german’s hand away. The sound of a shot reached your ears and suddenly the man before you was motionless. You looked over your shoulder. It was Will who shot the pilot. “Thank you,” you said, a little breathless. You looked away from him when the touch on your hands suddenly softened. Tom released your hand from the knife while crawling away from the dead body and closer to you. “You saved me.” His voice was nothing but a quiet whisper. His eyes were soft and there was a shine in them you’ve never seen before. Not like this. Not this vivid. You didn’t dare to say it was love, but it was a deep kind of affection no one ever showed to you. His arms wrapped around your body in a soft touch. He always smelled resinous and bittersweet. It was probably your favorite smell. This hug was his way of saying thank you. But he didn’t have to thank you. You honestly wouldn’t know what you’d do without him. And you didn’t want to experience the pain you’d feel if you lost him. Your fingers dug softly into his uniform. If only you could stay that way forever. Far away, in a better place.

#1917 #will schofield #tom blake #blake x reader #tom blake x reader #1917 writing #*#writing

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impulse-writing · 5 years

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prompt: a dragon nesting

“Yang, love of my life, woman of my dreams.” Blake watched a roof shingle fall and shatter on the patio, cracked pieces of slate scattering on polished wood. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m fixing the roof, babe.”

“... Why?”

She winced at the sound of wood splintering in a thousand pieces, which was loud enough that her faunus ears pressed against her head, trying to block out the ruckus. There was another bang. Something heavy fell (“…shit.”). And it sounded like Yang ripped something from the foundations of their house, while the roof shuddered from something heavy being dragged across.

Despite dreading her wife’s antics, Blake was too tired and cranky to climb up the roof and investigate it herself.

“I noticed one of the shingles were cracked.”

“Why does it sound like you’re replacing our entire roof?”

Sweet silence graced her ears. Blake crossed her arms over the swell of her stomach, knowing perfectly well her imposing figure was less effective thanks to the glow and healthy roundness of her face. Nonetheless, she felt pleased to see Yang’s golden head come into view not a second too soon.

She winced at the sight of Blake’s glare, visible even from two stories below. Her yellow eyes narrowed into slits, ears pushed back, and hackles raised. “Yang Xiao Long.” Her words dripped with false composure. “Get down here right now.”

Yang’s head disappeared from view in a flurry of hair. A minute later, she appeared again, standing at the edge of the roof carrying a toolbox, a shovel, and what seemed to be a shoddily constructed birdhouse tucked under one arm. Blake had no idea where the birdhouse came from. The birdhouse did not exist yesterday, and it eerily looked like something made from their broken backdoor -- which Yang promised she would fix a week ago. And just like their old door, the wood was tainted green. And the doorknob was still attached.

Blake did not want to know why her wife took it to the roof with her. So she bit her tongue and waited, patient as Yang jumped down and landed in front of her, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“What’s up?”

“Yang--”

“Hold that thought.” She rushed over to the wheelbarrow by their shed, throwing the shovel and toolbox next to it. She tucked the ‘birdhouse’ under one arm after a moment of struggling, and began to dig through the mess of rusty garden tools half-buried under fertilizer, dead leaves, and recently cut grass. “Babe, have you seen the garden hose somewhere?”

Blake pressed her thumb and forefinger against her throbbing brow.

“No, Yang. Why do you need a garden hose?”

“Makin’ a frog pond.”

Blake heaved the world’s longest sigh. Deep breaths, Blake.

“Honey, maybe you should take a break from all your projects? We can get someone else to fix the roof.” Or what’s left of it. “And we can hire a professional... frog pond person.”

“Nope, no can do.” Yang said, effectively dashing Blake’s hopes for a wonderful morning of peace and cuddling with her fertilizer-smelling, grass-stained wife. “Remember those stories I told you about when Ruby and I were kids? We used to play around the lake near our house, and we had fun catching tadpoles, setting cattails on fire, and -- okay maybe I caught hypothermia that one time, but it was mostly sweet kid stuff!” Yang finally kept herself from vibrating in place to turn around and give Blake a better view of the smile on her infuriatingly pretty and adorable face. “This will be awesome. Trust me.”

“That’s great.” Blake said, thinking about how not-great this was. “But maybe you can work on the frog pond next time and come back inside? You’ve been doing these things non-stop for weeks now, Yang. I miss you. I’m sexually frustrated, and I have no idea what’s happening to our house anymore.”

“I gotta get everything ready before the babies get here.” Yang said, waving a giant pair of garden shears in the air. “It’s my job to make sure everything’s perfect when they arrive. Besides, the pond’s gonna tie the swing and treehouse together. Just wait and see, Blake, it’s gonna be gorgeous.”

Treehouse?

Before Blake could ask her to repeat and kindly specify what the hell she was talking about, Yang ran off again, grabbing the shovel by her feet. She made a beeline for the beautiful great oak in their garden, and Blake didn’t have the strength or will to stop her. Instead, she watched as Yang jumped onto one of the branches, and proceeded to shimmy up the tree; disappearing behind the thick foliage with the shovel sticking awkwardly amongst the swaying branches and leaves.

This was how Weiss received a frantic call from Blake that morning.

“Weiss, I need you here right now.”

She could hear horrible noises from the other side of her scroll. Blake’s voice loud enough for Weiss to hear, and it was apparent how rough and tired she sounded; an edge of desperation begging to be released behind the calm veneer she barely managed.

“Blake?”

“I think my wife is possessed and I don’t know what to do.”

“Whoa, wait. Slow down... Ren, are you still there? Yes. Can I call you back? … Yes ...Of course, yes. I will speak to you later. Good-bye.”

“Weiss?”

“Belladonna, this better be good. Ren was telling me about the dreaded syllabus for the next semester.”

“I need you and your sanity to come here right now. Where are you?”

“I’m visiting professor Port --”

“That’s just an hour long drive from here, right?”

“Yes, Blake. Just an hour-long drive.”

“Please come over?”

Weiss cursed her inability to express sarcasm without sounding too much like Weiss Schnee.

“... Fine.”

“Thanks, Weiss. Oh, and can you bring me a bag of shrimp crackers? Thanks.”

Weiss left Professor Port’s house in a rush, trying to estimate what time she might arrive on the couple’s doorstep. She wondered if she could cut an hour to a half by speeding over a hundred, but decided against it. Instead, Weiss spent her hour long drive to Blake and Yang’s house thinking.

Thinking, Weiss thought, was good ‘Thinking’ was also something Weiss was particularly good at doing. Having an unpredictable force of nature as a partner for more than a decade, in both profession and matrimonially, demanded her mind to work like a detached, mechanical processor most of the time. Like a dot matrix printer arranging a billion dots until they created a picture anyone could comprehend. Some people called it a gift, but Weiss proceeded to call it ‘necessary for her mental health’.

“She’s the team’s Weiss of reason.” Yang once said, three seconds before everyone pelted her with peanuts and tiny cocktail umbrellas.

Chamomile for Blake, and black coffee for Weiss. One of their many comforts were small reminders of things that never changed.

Blake had her face in her hands, fingers pressed against her temples as if she could ward off the source of her predicament by the willpower of touch alone. The pair were alone in the humbly decorated kitchen, a few plates piled up in the sink, the smell of breakfast escaping from the open windows. Toast, eggs, dried fish, sweet tomatoes. There were sunflower-themed drapes, the drawers, tables and chairs were painted yellow, and the fridge had pictures of the couple in happier times. The colorful fridge magnets below spelt: ‘help me’.

Weiss concentrated on the hot water kettle.

“This is beyond asking for fritos in the middle of the night, Weiss. Or carrying around dirty laundry in my pockets.” Blake said, her voice muffled. “I swear, it’s not my hormones or mood swings acting up. Yang is driving me crazy, and you’ll know why when you see what she’s been doing to the place.”

“Well the house looks like it’s still standing.”

Weiss watched Blake ruefully reach for a shrimp cracker.

“Although I do admit, you look like someone just died.” Weiss said, leaning her hip against the table top counter.

“Thanks.”

“So let’s take a breather and think about this.” Weiss crossed her arms. “What else has she been doing? ”

“Other than dumb DIY projects?” Blake exhaled. “I found her ‘baby-proofing’ the living room with pool noodles a week ago.”

“Ah. I was wondering why Yang had boxes of those in your garage.”

“She almost booked an expensive birthing room from a hippy compound in Vacuo--”

“There’s a hippy compound in Vacuo?”

“... which cost a thousand lien.”

“Why is it a thousand lien?” Weiss scoffed, rubbing her forehead. “That’s a ridiculous price. I mean what do they do, birth your child in a diamond encrusted pool?”

“Weiss, do I look like I bothered to find out?”

“Point.”

Blake relaxed into the chair, as much as she could, her hand resting on the curve of her belly. “We have coupons for cup ramen and free dumplings everywhere, several different colors of paint because Yang can’t decide ‘which shade is the best for the baby room’.” Weiss tried not to laugh when Blake managed an exaggerated imitation of an annoyed Yang.

“That doesn’t sound too bad, all things considered.”

“Yang has dismantled and put together our doors, windows, and chairs multiple times because it didn’t look safe enough or it looked ‘wonky’. Our unborn children own several pairs of shoes and sunglasses than both of us combined, and she bought a jackhammer and a woodworking chisel set the other day.” Blake caught her eyes, her face drawn with palpable fear. “I have no idea where Yang put them, or why she bought them in the first place.”

“I see.”

“I have a strong feeling, Weiss. A strong, very bad feeling.”

“I’ll make sure Ruby finds them so you can return them to the store.”

“And she fixed ‘the pipes’.” Blake threw her hands into the air. “I have no idea which ‘pipes’ she was talking about, but I found her tinkering around underneath the space of our house with a rope and a screwdriver. I dunno Weiss, I just don’t know.” She inhaled a shaky breath, raking her fingers through frazzled hair. “It’s actually happening. I am losing my mind. I never thought this day would come.”

“Okay, first of all: sweetheart, this is Yang we’re talking about, right?” Weiss clicked her tongue. She turned her attention to opening one of the kitchen cupboards, and reached in for a clean teacup. “You know her, she’ll tire herself out soon enough after doing a half-ass job of everything. I’ll help hire a carpenter to fix whatever she breaks, and I can even throw in a treehouse if you want. Easy solution, and nothing to be overdramatic about.”

“Am I, Weiss?” Blake’s ear twitched. “Am I overreacting?”

Weiss was glad Blake couldn’t see the smirk on her face. She liked to tease, but she knew Blake would snap with her pregnant lady fury if she pushed too far. If she sensed even a shred of mirth from her, Blake might do something drastic, like force Yang to live in her house during the remaining four months of her pregnancy. Weiss loved her sisters-in-law, but she also loved her modest house too much to invite a literal walking cyclone of repressed mommy issues near her furniture. She already had a walking disaster with a penchant for sharp things living with her in it, and that number was her limit.

“Weiss, you are totally not helping.” Blake said.

“I’m sorry! But maybe it’s better to stop worrying, maybe sleep-in, visit that new bookstore in Vale before your paperwork drags you back behind your desk. Let Yang do her Yang things, and assume everything will be back to normal by the time my nieces are–”

It took Weiss a full minute before she realized she was holding a rock.

She raised the rock up at eye level, confirming to herself that yes – it was a rock. A real-life rock. She sent Blake a look.

“Yang started hoarding them a few days ago.”

“Hoarding rocks?”

Blake bounced her shoulders with a tired shrug.

Weiss carefully placed the rock on the counter, looking as if it would transfigure into a teacup the instant she takes her eyes off it. She pulled the cupboard doors wide open, and gasped at what seemed to be a rock collection hidden amongst the fancy tea cups and glass mugs. All of them piled on top of each other, all in different shapes and various sizes, with the largest as big as her head.

“What is this?”

“Is that a rhetorical question, or are you still having trouble taking me seriously?”

Weiss poked her nose inside the cupboard to take a closer look. There were rocks inside the teacups. There were rocks inside the mugs.

She looked at Blake and pointed at the extensive rock collection, an eyebrow raised, and Weiss could almost hear her say ‘told ya so’ with her derisive look.

As if needing further confirmation of Yang’s recent habits, she continued to open one of the utensil drawers and gasped in scandalous horror when she discovered bottle caps, smaller pebbles, and tiny cereal box toys filling the tiny space from corner to corner. Other than the geological refuse mingling with the sporks were fancy hair clips buried underneath with the butter knives.

In the cupboard under the sink were coins in tupperwares, a random assortment of fancy beads, and buttons filling a lone boot in the dark corner.

For the life of her, Weiss couldn’t keep the mirth from her voice.

“I can’t believe Yang Xiao Long is nesting.”

#bumbleby #so my friend challenged me with this prompt #future-fic #domestic bees #my fic stuff #i really gotta probably change my blog icon...#bees being future parents #pregnancy #and pregnancy shenanigans

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dylanobrienisbatman · 6 years

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Rewatch: Episode 1x08, Day Trip

Some of our best commentary from our rewatch

Why does Clarke mention never having ‘floated in the water’ in her little monologue? it seems weird. Like not, felt the breeze in her hair, or seen plants, or felt the grass on her feet? Bri got us thinking about this.

Bellarke was a perfect ship and then Clarke went bonkers and ruined it all.

We got strangely into the minutia this week.

Bellamy sitting there staring at Lincoln, the GUILT in his face. god, we love our sad son.

Why does Miller get that job, telling parents their kids died?

Bri just reminded us to mention how pretty s1 Bellamy is. Very important

Miller getting head butted is so fucking funny.

Where did they get a camera, for that video chat??

Bri said probably the art supply store lol

Always all up in the Jonty feels during s1.

We’re all so pumped for High Jonty

Shumway is the fucking worst.

Octavia is such a petulant child, we love it. S1 Octavia gets to be a part of Pettykru.

Her little “why do you even care, if i ruined your life”... man, siblings.

Bellamy is such a grumpy boy. He needs to find a book and chill out.

Elyse said he’s grumpy because there are no books.

We love our Grumpy Boy™

Bellamy Blake, at it again with the iconic lines

Seeing Monty just makes us sad

EW RAVEN FINN SEX IS THIS EPISODE.

Raven bby leave him you deserve so much better.

Finn needs to stop being stressed about Clarke when his peRFECT GIRLFRIEND RAVEN REYES IS RIGHT THERE.

Octavia asks Lincoln “its good right” when she giving him a drink. Babe.. Honey.. its WATER. he has definitely had it before.

Elyse reminded us that she was never properly socialised. We will give her a pass.

The line about Bellamy being a dick always makes me laugh, its so true. I love my dickhead son.

A Necessary™ shot of Ricky Whittles Abs.

Octavia taking responsibility for something? are we hallucinating? did WE ingest jobi nuts?

Octavia being Petty again, but Raven is such an adult.

Why are Raven and O always best friends in fics? like obviously no shade on any fic writer your stuff is always amazing everyone, but the show never really digs into that friendship, far as we can remember. They actually kind of actively dislike each other for a while.

I said i wanted to Vom about finn, and Elyse told me to drown him with it. So thats gross.

RAVEN GET AWAY FROM HIM YOU DESERVE BETTER.

Clarke talking about the dirty bunker, such a princess

Bellamy is so grumpy about the blankets? like dude. Chill.

He DOES chill, almost immediately, upon finding guns. the nerd. He’s like a kid on christmas. that smile is blinding.

High Jonty is the best Jonty tbh.

Monty is such a calm stoner. Just wants to hug the Earth.

The camera angles used in this to show us that they’re all high is so cool.

this is such an awesome episode all around.

THE ANTI GROUNDER STICK.

Octavia definitely only knows slang because her entire socialisation is a bunch of teenage criminals.

Miller definitely doesn’t have siblings because if he did he would have never ever trusted those nuts Octavia gave him. His lack of suspicion is entirely because he doesn’t have a sister.

INTENSE keysmashing over the bellarke gun shoulder touch. THROWN BY THE INTIMACY OR SOMETHING RIGHT?!?!

They banter like an old married couple “we NEED to do this” “No we NEED to do that” lol.

WHy couldn’t bellamy have a nice happy trip like Monty. poor sad boy.

The difference in everyone’s trip was really awesome as a narrative choice

How is Clarke not MORE messed up after a year in solitary.

okay we all love the ‘i can’t change the tide’ line, but i never noticed that when he comes into Finn and Raven’s tent, he starts with “Is the moon in here?” lmfao monty is an angel

Raven making finn come out because everyone is so high is so funny.

Clarke is so YOUNG. Like sometimes we all forget how young she was in the first season. Shes literally 17, season 1 doesn’t even go a whole month and in episode 1 she says she doesn’t turn 18 for another month.

She just misses her dad, its so sad.

They’re all just kids! Even Bellamy is only like 22/23 which is just about our age.

Clarke being such a Teenger™ to her halucinated!Dad is so funny

Okay but actually how old is Lincoln supposed to be?

I have made Bri reevaluate the entirety of Linctavia.

“The most beautiful broom, in a broom closet, of brooms” and then the kid just sort of hums at her. What a great Raven line. @the-most-beautiful-broom we miss you <3

On first watch we were definitely all nervous that Lincoln wouldn’t get away. This is one of Finn’s few good moments.

Elyse pointed out that Finn is like two separate characters, and Bails (no surprise) mentioned how they talk about that a lot in the @metastation podcast, about how they just sort of attribute random traits to Finn to fit his plot line. Go listen to the podcast, especially for s1.

Jaha’s line “You want the peace of death” is so intense and well delivered.

Bell saves Clarke, Clarke saves Bell, they save each other, they forgive each other, god s1 Bellarke is so alsdhfinsakldmjsdkjfh

Bullet to the neck Bell? *Jake Peralta Voice* Smort

Augh the forgiveness scene

Forgiveness... can you imagine. Hamilton references are always necesary.

Bellamy is SO SAD AUGH.

He just wants to be the man his mom raised him to be (our thoughts on aurora blake are... not so positive but its still super sad.)

We all just wanted to cry because Bell is so so sad.

Can they please ACTUALLY parallel the forgiveness moment in s6, and not this half assed shit they did at the end of s5? because thats not forgiveness.

God these babies need a nap.

Monty the Pine Cone Eater

“They’ll kill us” “Or Worse!” Okay, random kid... whats Worse? exactly?

That synchronised Power Couple Strut™ and dropping of the guns, the epic power couple speech. Iconic.

Bellamy definitely made them practice this before they went in. “No clarke, you gotta say it like this”. He’s a Drama Hoe. We love our Drama Hoe.

For real though, even with all the problems they have later, the way they actually write the Blake Siblings is so good. They feel like real siblings. There are a lot of shows that write siblings that you can just tell the writer doesn’t have siblings and didn’t ask anyone’s advice. But the Blakes have that dynamic of like “I’ll definitely kill you, but if anyone else says a bad word about you, I’ll kill THEM.” They have this petulant back and forth, but its always sort of underlined with this deep love. The writers know how to write a sibling relationship. Even when it becomes abusive and terrible later, that sort of weird dynamic is still there. Problematic, but the dynamic is well done.

Finn is so high up on his own pedastal. Bellamy tortured Lincoln to SAVE YOU. How are you gonna shit all over him for it. How are you gonna question him like that.

Clarke saying she trusts Bellamy is so lakdhjflsjhafkd;sa

Finn is such a fucking tool.

The whole scene where Bellamy and Clarke talk to Jaha is so amazing

The scene where Diana kills shumway is intense.

Kills: Bellamy: 1 Diana Sydnee: 1 Attempts: Dax: 1

“How many times did we talk about hating Finn” Tally: 6

Countdown till Raven meets Zeke: 6 years 6 months and 15 days, 56 episodes.

Times Bailey mentions the @metastation podcast (because she has a problem): 2

Times Octavia takes actual responsibility: 1

How many times we called Octavia Sneaky: 5

Times Clarke’s Canon love interest is jealous of her relationship with Bellamy: 1

Countdown to Finn’s Death: 26 days, 13 Episodes

@granger--danger @raven-reyes-of-sunshine

#the 100 #the 100 1x08 #pettykru rewatch #pettykru rewatch 1x08 #Day Trip #Bellarke

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mikotyzini · 6 years

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The Quest for Fluffy - A Bumblebee Oneshot

Happy Valentine’s Day! Enjoy some Bumblebee fluff :D

"Howwwww about this one?"

Springing herself onto the soft cushion, she sighed in relief at the pleasantly firm yet squishy material now supporting her weight.

This one - this one was perfect.

Watching Blake eye the object with an intensity usually reserved for strangers trying to pander goods in the park, Yang giggled at how absurdly long it was taking her partner to make the decision to even allow the questionable material to touch her.

"Well come on, it's not gonna bite you," Yang prodded, patting the space beside her invitingly.

Finally taking the bait, Blake decided to join her on the display mattress in the showroom they were currently browsing, but...no sooner had the girl's coattails touched the foamy surface did she pop right back up again.

"Nope - not that one."

Slack-jawed, Yang watched Blake walk away from her and the completely comfortable, if not heavenly, creation of high density foam and...whatever else mattresses were made of.

"What do you mean, that's not the one?" she shouted in disbelief, jumping down from her perch and jogging several paces to resume her place by Blake's side. "That one was super comfy!"

A distracted "hmm" was Yang's only response as Blake carefully read the display tag on the next contender - reading the entire description in full before delicately pressing a hand down on the mattress' surface, picking her spot as carefully as if there were invisible bear traps taped to the surface. Lifting her hand and dutifully watching the hand-shaped indentation disappear, Blake made a dejected noise before walking away without any further explanation.

Hopping onto the rejected mattress, Yang flopped backwards to soak in the full effect of the spine-hugging frame.

So cushiony...so cozy...so what was wrong with it?

"Blakeeeee-"

Whining the girl's name, she ran to catch up again - finding Blake already two more mattresses down the first row in the massive mattress warehouse.

Honestly, Yang had had a much different expectation for today than how it was currently playing out. She was going mattress shopping. With her extraordinarily attractive girlfriend. To complete the furnishing of the apartment they'd just moved into together. Seriously, did it get any better than that?

But apparently she was a complete pushover when it came to the slab of foam gracing her bed frame. The very first mattress, at the very entrance to the store, won her over the instant she'd thrown her Girmm-battered and bruised body upon it.

On the other hand...her tough-as-nails, ex-White Fang badass of a girlfriend was not so easy to impress.

"So, um, Blake?" Yang asked as yet another mattress was dismissed after failing the 'handprint' test. "What exactly are we looking for?"

"The perfect mattress…" Blake mused in response, studying yet another tag while seeming to pay little attention to the question.

"Yes, but what makes a mattress perfect?" Yang pressed more forcefully this time.

Blake finally turned towards Yang then - amber eyes and undivided attention being given without a second thought. At first, it seemed like the question was confusing to Blake - but then there was the slightest of twitches in one adorably fuzzy ear that gave away the faintest smidge of embarrassment.

"It needs to be extra...fluffy."

"Extra flu...wait, fluffy?"

While Yang was rooted to the floor in her current state of incredulity, Blake brushed past on her way to the next aisle of the showroom.

"Yes, fluffy."

"Fluffy like...like a -"

Cat-like eyes locked onto Yang again, only this time flashing very seriously in an unspoken sign of impending danger.

"Like a what, Yang? What do you associate fluffy with?"

"Uhhh….clouds?"

Had her voice not come out so high-pitched and squeaky, that would've been the perfect answer. Instead, Yang earned a playful glare from Blake before she continued with her shopping.

"I like fluffy things - is that a crime?"

"Of course not!" Yang immediately replied, before unwillingly letting out a few chuckles at the tiny amount of irony at that assertion. "But Blake, really! It's kinda funny, right? That you love fluffy things, and you're a - well, you know - a...uh, battle tested killing machine?"

For the love of all that was holy, she needed to never say the word 'cat' again. Or even think it. The murderous look she'd garnered towards the end of her rambling had nearly turned her into a giant, blonde chunk of immaculately sculpted stone.

With a sigh, Blake turned fully towards her, crossing those oh-so-lovely arms across that oh-so-lovely chest.

"Yang -"

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry!" Yang butted in preemptively, knowing an apology-type situation when she fell face first into one. "I'm just surprised, that's all. I didn't realize that your derrière was so tend-ère!"

As a few more chuckles escaped her, she caught the faintest of smiles flitting across Blake's lips - letting it slip that Blake wasn't in any way upset, but was actually silently enjoying Yang's continued bumbling way of speaking before thinking.

But that didn't mean Yang would escape without a talking to.

"Yang, have you ever slept on the ground?"

"Well, yeah, all the -"

"When it's not covered in grass?"

Images of warm nights spent on the plush, green grass in her backyard with her trusty yellow sleeping bag immediately disappeared from her mind - replaced by the sidewalk out front.

"Um…"

"Or on top of a moving train?"

"Well -"

"In a tree? And a treehouse doesn't count."

"Dammit. No…"

"Or on a rooftop - without blankets? In the middle of winter?"

"Jesus! Blake! When did you do that?"

The comment finally made Blake suck in a deep breath before flashing one of those ever-patient smiles Yang's way.

"I'll tell you about that later - what I'm trying to say now is that sleeping in those places taught me to appreciate a nice, fluffy bed whenever I was afforded the luxury of one. This is the first mattress we're buying together, for the first bed we'll share together. I want it to be perfect so that when we go to sleep, together, safe and sound after whatever the world has thrown our way, I can feel exactly how far we've come."

Blinking after Blake finished talking, Yang opened her mouth to respond only to close and open it once more. It felt like a hundred tiny little arrows had just lodged themselves through her heart, each one fired with deadly accuracy through the disarmingly honest words Blake had just shared.

There was nothing that pushed Yang to action more than one of Blake's mini-rants...and this was certainly no exception.

"Then we're going to find the fluffiest bed in the universe, dammit!" Yang proclaimed, quickly drawing Blake up into a tight hug before setting her feet carefully back on the ground and pulling her towards the next mattress.

"This one's gotta be more fluffy," Yang presumed, waiting as Blake tried out the top of the pad - only to again shake her head with a firm 'no.'

"Not fluffy enough…"

Trying out the mattress herself, Yang shook her head in disbelief. It made no sense what Blake was searching for, but if this one wasn't fluffy enough, then it wasn't fluffy enough!

Hand-in-hand, they continued to the next selection.

"Hey," Yang said, just as Blake was about to test it out, "Do you remember that time you cut down three Ursa with one swing of Gambol?"

The question brought a curious gaze her way.

"Yes...why?"

Shrugging her shoulders, Yang suppressed the urge to giggle at the juxtaposition between battlefield Blake and bedroom Blake. In a fight, Blake was a tiger - agile, fast, predatory, with claws that cut to the bone (if not through it). But at home, Blake was much more like a...well, a little kitten. She liked a quiet life, loved to snuggle, and was incredibly slow getting out of bed.

"You're a really amazing huntress, you know that?" Yang concluded, flashing a big smile at a statement she wholeheartedly believed to be true.

Of course, Blake's 'uh huh…' response signified that she knew the compliment was meant to cover up for something else, but the subject was dropped in favor of testing the newest mattress before them.

"This one isn't fluffy at all."

After letting out a sigh of despair at their lack of success, Yang suddenly had an idea - a brilliant idea, if she said so herself.

"What if we stacked one on top of the other?" she suggested, pointing to the two recent mattresses in front of them.

"I don't think that will work…"

"But we won't know until we try, right? Come on, let's at least try it!"

Without waiting for an answer (she knew Blake would agree anyway, eventually…), Yang reached down and easily pulled one of the mattresses off of the standard bed frame it had been resting on and dropped it on top of the other.

"There!" she said, grinning in satisfaction while dusting off her hands as if that had actually been hard work. "Try it out now?"

It was only after a slight eye roll that Blake pressed down on the mattress before once again shaking her head.

"It's pretty much the same - still not fluffy," she replied, before giving Yang a smile brimming with appreciation.

Her ingenious idea had just been dashed to pieces, but she could care less as long as Blake was looking at her that way. Even when her ideas were dumb or pointless, Blake still appreciated the thought and effort. Blake appreciated Yang's attempt, no matter how useless it ended up being. Which meant Yang was always trying, in anyway possible, to give Blake everything she ever dreamed of or wished for.

That was the whole thought behind the rather exorbitant phrase Yang proclaimed on a daily basis.

'For you, Blake, anything.'

Even when it was said as a joke, or as a tease, Yang truly meant it - as much as she had when she'd first whispered the words into Blake's ear that one night at Beacon...when it had been just the two of them standing beneath the stars with nothing but cleared air between them.

For Blake, she would do absolutely anything. Even if that meant she had to turn what should have been a run-of-the-mill shopping trip into a quest of epic proportions.

It was only when she turned her attention back to that quest and away from Blake's mystical amber eyes that she noticed the myriad of curious glances being directed their way by the other shoppers lingering about.

"Jeez, you'd think they've never seen a double-stacked mattress before…" she joked as they walked to the next contender, reaching down to take Blake's hand in her own as they went.

"No, Yang, they've probably just never seen a girl pick up a full size mattress by herself," Blake responded with a laugh, giving Yang's hand a light squeeze at the same time.

Boy, did Blake ever know how to inflate Yang's ego…

Of course, after having been partners for years, Blake also knew exactly how to bring Yang crashing back down to earth if she ever got too cocky - most of the time in the form of several perfectly timed spin moves and shadow clones that disguised the impending roundhouse kick that would rock her world.

"This one - this one looks like a winner!"

Maybe the root of the problem was that she wasn't 'selling' these good enough. Maybe she needed to add some allure to the mattresses to make them appear fluffier.

Well, it was worth a shot. Nothing else seemed to be fluffy enough!

"The…"

Squinting briefly at the tag, Yang read some of the information before moving in front of it with a grand flourish of her free hand, beaming in response to the pleased smile Blake was giving her.

"The Emperor II, Moonlight Plus, all-season mattress!"

(It looked exactly the same as every other mattress they'd looked at, but it was all about the presentation, right?)

Gently drawing Blake to the side of the bed, Yang slowly waved one hand over the quilted surface - palm facing upward like she'd seen on commercials.

"Kindly take in the...uh…"

Craning her neck backwards, she read the next few bullet points from the tag before turning back to her still-grinning girlfriend.

"Take in the three padded layers of 'Cloud9' memory foam, the extra special 'Cooling Gel' technology, the waterproof stitching -"

With the last selling point, Yang gave Blake a wink, receiving her eye roll and smile in response before continuing with gusto.

"It's the best of the best - the highest of hi-tech - the fluffiest of the...uh, fluffy," she proclaimed, smiling when Blake laughed out loud - the sound still music to her ears. "It even has 'cloud' in the name - it must be the fluffy you're searching for!"

With that, Yang gestured for Blake to give it a try, same as she'd been doing all day.

"Quite the presentation," Blake commented while taking a single step closer to the bedframe, one hand still clasped firmly within Yang's. "You have a second career in the making, I can feel it."

"Please - you want me to sell beds to people all day long?" Yang replied with a laugh before continuing in her best 'fake salesman' voice. "I understand you're unsure about this mattress, ma'am, it is a big investment. Why don't you go home and sleep on it?"

Blake groaned at the pun, but Yang wasn't done yet.

"Oh, you suffer from insomnia? No worries! With one of our top-of-the-line mattresses, you'll be having bedder days in no time - or should I say, bedder nights!"

"I've changed my mind!" Blake cut in with another laugh (Blake always laughed at Yang's puns - why else would Yang keep making them?). "You can't work here anyway, because then who would be my partner?"

Licking her lips and leaning closer - close enough to watch the dark pupils in Blake's eyes widen ever so slightly - Yang lowered her voice to nothing more than a whisper.

"Well...I guess you'd have to follow me into the bed...selling business, wouldn't you?"

Grinning at her attempt at wit, Yang grew serious when she recognized the look in Blake's eyes, one full of love - love for her.

"Yang, I'd follow you anywhere."

If anyone knew how to leave her without words, it was Blake.

Never before had she been able to lose herself in someone else's eyes, but she still found herself doing so with Blake daily. It was as if those wonderful amber orbs erased the world around her, leaving nothing but the two of them in each other's embrace.

It was amazing, surreal...and broken as soon as Blake's eyes flitted to someone or something behind Yang's left shoulder.

"Hey, maybe we should ask that clerk for a suggestion?"

Without thinking, Yang reached out and snatched the store employee before he could pass - and when she said 'snatched,' she meant grabbing the guy by the shirt, lifting him off the ground, and setting him back down directly in front of them.

"We need the fluffiest mattress you have," she said, ignoring his widened eyes at what she'd just done. "Like, I mean, fluffier than everything."

"H-have you tried the...pillow top section?"

Following the direction he pointed in, Yang grinned when she saw the large sign that read simply 'pillowtop' on the other side of the store.

"That's it, Blake! That's gotta be it! The holy grail of fluffy!"

Her feet were already marching quickly that way - pulling a softly giggling Blake along by the hand. Before they'd moved too far away, she turned back and gestured for the store clerk to follow them, just as the young boy had been about to slip away.

As soon as they were underneath the sign advertising mattresses with pillows on top, Yang pulled Blake to the nearest one and gestured for her to try it out. Which Blake did - and this time she didn't immediately pull her hand away - opting instead to let it linger in the air above the mattress as if she might try it out one more time.

"So?" Yang pressed, not having the patience to wait much longer for Blake's answer.

"Well...that is actually somewhat fluffy…" Blake responded carefully, before pressing her hand into it one more time.

Excitement suddenly exploded through Yang's veins, the type of excitement she always felt before completing a mission, taking down a large enemy, or accomplishing something she'd thought was going to be impossible.

She could feel it now. They were on the cusp of something…

"Which one of these is the fluffiest?" she asked the clerk, drawing his full, somewhat nervous attention back to her.

"Like the...thickest pillow top? Uhh...well that'd be this one…"

She obediently followed the boy several spots over, drawing Blake closely along behind her.

This one actually looked a little bit fluffier than most - with the pillow top being several inches thick on top of a regular mattress.

"Try it out!" Yang said, prodding Blake forward as the clerk made room for her to move past.

It was on bated breath that Yang watched Blake press her hand into the mattress once...twice...three times to test the pressure. This was already further than any other mattress had made it thus far - putting them in completely uncharted territory. Yang had no way of knowing what to expect next, so used to the answer 'not fluffy enough' had she grown...

With a brow wrinkled in concentration, Blake painstakingly, almost cautiously, turned around and sat down on the edge of the mattress.

"Well?" Yang asked, praying that they'd finally found 'The One.'

"Hmm…" was all Blake said before scooting further back onto the mattress, her feet lifting off of the showroom floor and doing what had seemed to be the unthinkable just minutes earlier - laying down on the bed.

And then she sighed - one of those long sighs of relief that was almost exclusively reserved for the end of a particularly rough day of Grimm hunting, when they'd finally trekked their way back home, removed their stained combat gear and sunk into a steaming hot bath.

"This is perfect."

Letting out a loud 'whoop!' of satisfaction, Yang turned and gave the salesman an enthusiastic high five, moderately chuckling at the brief flicker of pain that crossed his face from the force she'd put behind it.

('Not so hard, you buffoon!' she could still remember Weiss screeching at her. 'Not all of us have bludgeons for hands!')

Taking two steps, she launched herself from her feet, flying through the air before landing on the mattress with a rather surprising amount of bounce. Normally when she jumped into bed (which, admittedly, she did a lot), the mattress would hold her body down on the initial landing, but this bed...well, she fully lifted off before settling down for good.

Once settled, she rolled onto her back and wiggled to test the resistance.

"Wow…"

Now she could see what Blake had been talking about. There was fluffy. And then there was fluffy.

"You like it?"

Turning onto her side so that she could look at Blake, she grinned at that question.

Man, did she ever like it…

"This is incredible," she freely admitted.

"You're incredible," Blake immediately sent back at her, leaning forward to place a quick kiss to her nose.

Taking only a second to bask in their most recent success, Yang quickly lifted her head to find the clerk who still hadn't managed to slip completely away.

"Can this be delivered?" she asked, halting the boy in his retreat.

"Um, yeah, yes it can be - is that the one you'd like?"

Glancing at Blake and receiving a nod, Yang smiled.

"Definitely," she answered before flopping back onto the bed beside her girlfriend, content to forget his existence for now.

"Can't believe they do same-day delivery for free!" she said, voice raised so that it would carry out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, where Blake was currently getting dressed for bed.

"Pretty sure he just didn't want you to come back," came the teasing response, making Yang laugh while running a brush carefully through her hair.

"Which I would have if they'd been late," she commented with a self-satisfied grin. "And then I could've given him the handshake of death!"

Holding one hand up in front of her, she curled her fingers into as tight of a fist as she possibly could, hearing a couple of joints and knuckles pop in the process.

Dropping her hand, she went back to her hair - running the brush through it in slow, methodical strokes that wouldn't snag or pull. It was only a few minutes later that she was content with how silky her hair felt, so she dropped the brush on the counter and moved towards the bathroom door, flipping off the lights as she walked back into their new, shared bedroom.

"Hey, think Weiss will be mad that we used her credit…"

The question trailed off at the sight in front of her - one very tired Blake Belladonna, curled up and very much passed out upon their new bed. It was the kind of sight that always made her go 'awwww….' Like seeing a kitten at the pet store sleeping in its little hammock bed…

Don't ever mention that comparison to Blake. She'd make Yang sleep on the roof in no time…

All the same, it was endearing to see - and marked the success of their day in one single sight.

Carefully climbing into bed beside the sleeping beauty, Yang laid down on her side and took in the rarest of views anyone would ever find.

This was Blake Belladonna - master of shadows, of escapes, of appearing out of nowhere with a kick to the face. The girl who was impossible to find, impossible to catch...

Slowly reaching out, Yang used one finger to carefully push a strand of stray raven-colored hair behind one delicate ear - grinning when her finger barely grazed the skin there, eliciting a small flick of one feline ear in subconscious acknowledgement.

"Goodnight, Fluffball," she whispered before leaning forward to place one last kiss to Blake's forehead, backing away quickly when Blake unexpectedly shifted position.

"I may be sleeping...but I'll still strangle you…" came the sleepy reply, making Yang let out an unexpected laugh of surprise.

Yang should've learned by now that even when Blake was sleeping, she was still awake.

Death threats or not, Blake nonetheless scooted closer, nuzzling into Yang's collarbone and allowing herself to be wrapped in Yang's arms. Rubbing her hands gently up and down Blake's back before finally settling into place, Yang held Blake tightly as they drifted off to sleep on a brand new mattress that was fluffier than air.

"Love you too, Blake...I love you too."

#RWBY #Bumblebee #rwby bumbleby #Yang Xiao Long #Blake Belladonna

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butchstolemysweetroll · 6 years

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Tagged by @saxrohmerwon ages ago on my brief other blog and just noticed it, thanks bruh ily <3

Rules: Always post the rules, answer the questions given to you, then write 10 questions of your own, and tag some friends!

1. Favorite city (or town/small island/et cetera) in the world and why?

I guess it’d be Avalon. I basically spent every summer of my life there with family and it’s really small (only seven miles long) so you wind up going to the same few ice cream places or antique stores or pizza shops all the time but you never really get bored of it. The whole place has a quiet, old-timey shore town nostalgia to it too that’s super sweet. And like some of my all time favorite memories were staying on the beach until sunset when the lifeguards were gone so we could swim wherever we wanted, or climbing on the outfall pipe and walking to see how far out I was brave enough to go (it got “higher” ((read: the sand started to disappear)) the further out over the water you went), or walking on the beach at night. That was my favorite part, the nighttime. It’s weird how quiet but how alive everything got after dark, and I could hunt for ghost crabs or watch fireworks and the lights from town on the water, and the sand never bothered me as much when it was cool from the dark.

2. Describe your favorite scent/s.

Autumn, if that counts as a smell. But the combined scent of really brisk air and smoky burning leaves and fresh damp ones and hay and I guess plant life generally decaying, but in a sweet way? I also like flower smells obviously, and food smells, but those are boring to talk about. Gasoline, the specific kind of fake (cotton) paper money is printed on. Coffee. I’ve learned to kind of like the smell of cigarettes on clothes, because my boyfriend smokes and I like waking up in the sweater I wore the night before with that smell still on it. People have smells too. Like my mom smells like perfume even when she isn’t wearing any, and it’s nice. And babies smell rad and trigger ALL of my maternal impulses (cannot wait to reproduce, it’s gonna be gr8). And the boy smells really nice... Not even in like a what-deodorant-are-you-wearing kind of way but like skin and sweat and waking up warm in a cold house on Wednesday mornings. And when he comes home from work smelling like fresh cut grass and wet dirt it’s v nice.

3. Who is/was your favorite teacher and why?

My Romantic Lit professor currently, because he teaches exactly what I want to teach and I have a career crush on him. He’s also just super excitable and enthusiastic (let’s talk about that WEIRD weekend in Geneva the Shelleys took guys! Blake was an EDGELORD!) which I love.

I also had a professor at my old school who was super cool and helped me through a lot of shit? I took her personal essay class right as I was sort of in recovery for depression following a terrible, low key emotionally unhealthy (abusive? I still don’t know if I can use that word? Either way, OVER-SHARING YAY) romantic relationship and I explored that and a lot of other stuff pertaining to my childhood and relationships and discovering my queerness in my work for her class, and she was super supportive and involved in helping me experiment with new formats and really use writing as a therapeutic tool and it helped me heal a lot. She was also just a super cool lady (lots of tattoos and wispy blonde hair and a quiet voice, kind of a hipster fairy) who hung out with me at a local music festival in town when I was like fresh out of the hospital and having trouble being around my normal friends. She just always made sure her door was open and went out of her way to make me feel better, and to this day I appreciate that.

4. What is your favorite poem? (Substitute with “song” if you don’t have a favorite poem.)

Oh my GOD, don’t make me choose. I’m obsessed with the Romantics and a few contemporaries have my heart, but I guess I’d have to say “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost. It’s just beautiful and hopeful and simple enough that tiny me could fall in love with it and appreciate it almost in its fullness when I was too young to grasp other works.

5. Weirdest thing you’ve ever heard out-of-context?

Ever? I don’t tend to remember stuff like that for a long time unless I’d like hypothetically overheard a murder or something, but last night some girl was walking back from our student center with her friends and angrily shouted that she wanted to “put her dong through a snare drum” which made me laugh.

6. Best concert experience? (If you have never been to a concert, what do you hope your first concert will be?)

Still gotta say Green Day after just turning 15 years old. I’d never been to a concert before and they were my favorite band at the time. I was so proud to be there because I had 0 dollars to my name and no one would hire me because I was underage, so I had to earn every penny for those tickets doing gross menial work like removing and scrubbing window frames that hadn’t seen soap in maybe a decade (SO MANY SPIDERS), and teeny bopper me thought that was 'punk.’ And at one point Billie Joe Armstrong, who my pathetic little emo self wanted to MARRY told the audience he was proud of everyone who’d worked their ass off to afford to come see them play and I remember turning to my dad and screaming “HE MEANS ME!” It was so wholesome.

7. Favorite holiday (or other special occasion) and why?

Christmas! My house was THE Christmas house growing up. My parents put so much effort into it and it was the cutest thing. Besides the outrageous amount of decorations and the amazing food that takes all week to make and the cute tradition of having my grandparents spend the night to watch us open presents first thing in the morning, the best part of Christmas growing up was definitely the effort my family put into making us kids believe Santa was real for way longer than necessary. One year my uncle got a flashlight and a red solo up and climbed trees in our yard so we’d see “Rudolph’s nose” if we looked out the window. We put out reindeer food every year. My dad would stomp around shaking jingle bells and someone always climbed on the roof making noise, and my mom knew calligraphy, so she’d write us scrolls from Santa on legit parchment and toast it in the oven so it would curl. One year we had an old, old family friend who was a Santa impersonator show up with a legit sleigh and a giant book with all the family member’s names and the years they were naughty and nice in it and stories about why and it was so cute. So whereas most kids found out around like 8 my parents went to extreme lengths so that I believed it until I was like 11 and honestly, I’m really glad they did, because it was a kick ass childhood. I definitely want to be that level of extra when I become a parent.

8. Did you ever play an instrument growing up? If so, how did it go for you?

Guitar, bass, after I learned guitar I could play pretty much anything pluckable with strings, so I had a Romanian lap harp (I was such a cool kid) and I would sometimes play my sister’s viola (often incorrectly and like a guitar, but it was fun to sample when I recorded stuff). I haven’t sang or touched an instrument in like seven years though. I kind of gave up after sad life stuff happened but I want to pick it back up again. I really miss music.

9. If you were given $100 today, what would you do with the money?

Use it toward Christmas presents for loved ones. Since I’m basically not allowed out of the house after I go home for break I have to do Christmas early with the friends and boyfriend.

10. What’s the scariest movie you have ever seen? (Define scary however you like.)

I love scary movies so this is hard, but I guess anything in which children are genuinely evil? Like not even in a supernatural way; it’s not horror but watching We Need To Talk About Kevin fucked me up. I guess being a mom is like so much something that I want, and imagining that happening would def keep me up at night. Especially because I would not know what to do.

Now, for questions:

1. What’s your favorite article of clothing?

Dresses but also plain black leggings. And I have very soft sweatpants that fit just right.

2. Do you still sleep with a stuffed animal?

Nope. I can’t sleep with the live one either lol, Bynx likes to sleep RIGHT where I want to roll over and screams and puts his paws in my mouth when he wants attention.

3. Do you believe in heaven? Hell?

Both, Catholic.

4. Do you listen to podcasts? What are your favorite ones?

Not really, but I’d like to, in theory. It just seems like more effort somehow than watching TV and I am always tired.

5. What was your go-to game during recess?

Four square.

6. Where do you see yourself in the next ten years– not in a job interview kind of way, but actually?

Awwww this is cute to think about. I guess I’d like to be living in like a really woodland but not isolating place, somewhere where my house can be on a lake or by woods or mountains but if I drive ten minutes there’s a cozy-sized town with all I need. Maybe in like Virginia or Vermont. I’m a professor of Gothic Literature at the local college, and my students are engaged and inspiring and call me by my first name. I’m in a pretty and not-too-big house, but it’s warm and smells like our fireplace. I’m married to my lovely guy, and both our jobs are flexible enough that we can have dinner as a family and spend time with our brood of kids. And they pay well enough that we might not be wealthy but we never have to worry. The cat’s still with us and we’ve got a dog, too. We go on camping trips and The Lumberjack teaches the kids how to build fires and tie knots and dad stuff like that. One of the kids at least loves reading and the house is full of books - I’ve got a home office full of bookshelves and a reading nook. We’ve got a porch where we can bundle up and drink wine in the evening after the kids are in bed. We’re not rich but not poor, and our families get along and come to visit. My parents still ask us over for Christmas every year. Wherever I teach, my kids can go there for free.

7. Do you have a favorite visual artist? Who are they?

Oh lord, I don’t know. I mean I like art but I hate the process of liking art. It’s so much more involved than “I like how this piece makes me feel” and I don’t enjoy that. I like individual pieces and I don’t know enough about art to really speak on it.

I guess, though, I like Dali and Khalo as people. They seem unpretentious and fun. Which is surprising because I guess the way their work is talked about you’d think the opposite.

8. Do you really like a food that most people think is disgusting? Or, do you like a popular food to a disgusting degree?

Not really but like I put too much hot sauce / jalapenos on everything and it disgusts people. And I put way too much sugar in coffee, and creamer too.

9. What music did your parents play in the house/car?

My mom is a New Wave junkie like me and my dad had more complicated taste. He was never big into music, so he only really likes a few artists for their voices and some songs for nostalgia. So we listened to a lot of oldies and swing and Judy Garland, but he also loved Blondie and Boston.

10. What would you tell your 15-year-old self?

I’d tell her she’s a lot stronger than she’s going to think she is one day and to tough it out. That people love her and will love her. That when you get older, family is hard, but it’s worth it to work on things. That she’s smarter than she thinks she is and should try harder in school, because when she finally does have faith in herself, it’ll pay off.

Tagging whoever else wants to do this - it’s cold and rainy (here at least) and we could all use a day of warm socks and procrastinating with asks, honestly.

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