#<- whoever said that on a post of this style before I think about you on a daily basis

[givehimthemedicine]

#long post #they're talking to me through the lights #<- whoever said that on a post of this style before I think about you on a daily basis #sprinkles some lettuce into the vermicompost tub that is my brain. chow down gents

[chasedbyatlantic]

flawless, joel miller

masterlist summary: IN WHICH — joel miller comes to you hurt and in pain, after realizing that you are the only one that he can find peace with - you're there to welcome him with open arms.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, boston qz era!joel, gender neutral!reader, no use of y/n, frenemies to lovers type trope, angsty to fluff, mentions of blood/injuries/death (lightly mentioned), joel being so sappy i love it, swearing, cute ending. lmk if i missed anything!

wordcount: 2.9k

a/n: i hope u love this as much as i do. i've been meaning to write it for a while, and it's a bit of a diff style from my writing but i love how it turned out! make sure to reblog, like, comment and follow for more! xoxo

—

It had to have been three in the morning by now. When Joel said he was going to be at your place by seven, you believed him. He was a man of his word after all - or at least ninety nine percent of the time he was. He had told you this morning that he was heading outside of the walls after his shift at the "graveyard" (the nickname given to where the bodies of infected were burned), and he would be back just after sunset. You had protested to join him on his well-travelled route, but he had forbid you from going with him. Despite not going with him, he had promised to swing by your place once he was back and drop off any goods he may have scavenged while out.

You weren't sure why he wouldn't agree to let you come, it wasn't like he was your father, or brother, or boyfriend - you guys were friends. Sure, the two of you had hooked up every so often, but that gives him no right to make decisions for you, about what you can do or where you can go. It's the zombie apocalypse for Christ sake, you can do what you want when you want.

You had been up for an extra few hours, it was way past the time you would usually be asleep. You were waiting for that knock on the door, you were waiting for the bickers on why you were awake and waiting for his return, you were waiting for Joel. In all honesty, you weren't sure why you were up. Maybe it was the thought in the back of your head that he was dead, or stranded alone somewhere far outside of the walls.

You had to shake those gruesome thoughts out of your head as you were forced up and toward your window, having to close it due to the newly started rain. As soon as the window was shut, the sounds of pitter-patter were echoed through your entire apartment, the only thing it did was put you on edge. He was probably at home, you thought to yourself, thinking it was too late to bother you and that he would see you first thing tomorrow. You could only hope for that.

You had decided it would be best to go and sit down on your sofa, the one in front of the TV that hadn't worked for twenty something years. It wouldn't hurt you if you remained up for the next little bit, just in case. In case there would be a knock on your door, in case he showed up. You took a seat on the well weared in part of the sofa, kicking your shoes off and cuddling up to the blanket covering the arm. It wouldn't hurt you if you stayed up waiting with your eyes shut, would it?

It was a quarter to five when a few sets of knocks went off at your door. You had shot up from the light rest you had fallen into, mentally cursing yourself for not being able to stay up. Was it Joel? You really shouldn't be caring this much about him, or this situation. You were sure it wasn't anything serious, but this is what friends do for each other, right?

You had gotten up as quick as you could, tripping over your shoes and almost face planting on the ground. Without spending any time to worry about it, you moved over to the door. Whoever it was on the other side, Joel or not, mustn’t have heard you make your way over to the door since there was another set of desperate knocks. It felt like an eternity while you undid all four locks, before swinging it open.

Your eyes could only fall into the gaze of the grey ones in front of you. You weren't sure if he was crying, or if the paths under his eyes were extra watery from the torrential downpour happening outside (though, you wouldn't question him about it). Your eyes had scanned over his saddened face, to the puddle of water beneath his shoes. Your hand had automatically found its way to cup his cheek, your thumb running over his skin as gentle as possible, "Fuck, Joel."

You could feel him soften his muscles when you did this, despite his facial expression remaining neutral, "I gotta come in." He had mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear. You had immediately dropped your hand from his face, and moved out of the doorframe, allowing Joel to enter. It was only when the dull light from your candle lit lamp engulfed Joel that you could really see what had happened to him.

A black eye, a busted lip, small bruises littered around every masculine feature he had. You were going to kill whoever did this to him. "I got clothes that'll fit you, hold on." You had turned and shuffled your way into your room, digging through the drawers when you had reached them. You had a pair of black sweatpants that were too big on you, but would most likely fit Joel. Before leaving the room, you swiped a shirt that was laying in the pile of clean clothes off to the side.

You emerged not long after, seeing the barely-clothed man remove his last sock off his right foot. You two were past the point of being embarrassed in front of each other, you had learned to adapt due to the many years spent surviving together. As you walked past Joel, toward the kitchen, you shoved the clothes into his arms. You wanted to give him a little privacy, so he could hold onto his pride, if he managed to have any left.

Making your way into the kitchen, you immediately got out a mug from your tiny mug collection, and turned the gas-powered stove top on. Placing the mug beside the stove, you had brought over a little pot and dumped an entire bottle of water into it. It didn't take long for the water to boil, so once it was done, you immediately put it in the mug labeled "World's Best Boss" and started to scavenge. You hadn't opened the box of tea you were looking for, you wanted to save it for a special occasion. Tonight was special enough, right?

You had found it after a moment of searching, taking a packet out of the box and moving back over to the living room. Your eyes fell on the emptiness of the sofa, the man nowhere to be found. He couldn't have left, you didn't hear the door open or close. Just before you were going to call out for him, he walked out of the darkness (his limp more noticeable than before). "Put the clothes'n y'ur bath tub, didn't want the floor all wet for ya' to clean." His voice was hoarse.

You shot him an almost unapologetic look as you placed the mug down, dropping the tea bag inside. "Stop worryin' 'bout that, now sit down and let me help." For once in his life, Joel Miller kept quiet and did what you told him. You had wished it would be under different circumstances, but a win is a win. "Now," You began, "I know you like coffee, but this was all I could find."

It had to taken Joel a moment before he realized that there was a warm drink waiting for him, his nose too stuffed to have taken in the scent. It had been a while since Joel had something warm to drink, a while since someone's cared enough about him to make him something like that. Even though he despised any sort of drink other than coffee (and water, of course), he would not complain about this. Not now, not ever. He reached forward for the mug, carefully bringing it back to his lap. "Best boss, hm?"

You could only giggle as you were now opposite of Joel, instead of being on the couch, you had pushed it away and were digging on the floor. Months ago, you had figured out there were two layers of wood that divided you and the person who occupied the apartment below you. That space served as a cubby, so you figured why not use it for its purpose? "You're gonna be jumpin' with joy, Joel Miller." He looked puzzled, trying his best to ignore the immense pounding that came from everywhere in his body. That's when he caught glimpse of what you were holding, headache medicine.

Sure, headache medicine was some measly little thing that probably didn't work as well as it used to anymore, not many people would bat an eye at it before the apocalypse. But now, it was gold. People were sentenced to the firing squad if any guard in the QZ found out about medicine that wasn't recorded, since it was so scarce. "Why the fuck do you have that?" Was all Joel could say, forgetting about himself for a moment, and worrying about you. That's what friends do, right?

"For emergencies like this." You had gotten up from the floor, kicking the wooden plank back into its home before moving over to Joel. You had opened the cap, taking out four. Four would send you into the doctors office if you took them before they expired, but since they expired twenty years ago, they only worked half (if you were lucky) of what they usually would. You had reached out for Joel's hand and placed the pills in there, "Drink tea with'em to help them go down easier."

He listened to you, silent for a moment. After he had swallowed the mouthful (literally) of pills, he broke silence. "I don't want you runnin' 'round'n gettin' shit like that." He was referring to the pills, "You know what happens if ya' get caught." How could even talk this much with a busted lip, you thought to yourself. You repeated the 'if ya' get caught' part to him as you slipped away once more into the kitchen.

Joel called your name out a few times as you left, leaning farther back into the couch each time. By you talking to him, he was distracted. Distracted from the crushing headache, the horrible tension that rose to his lips every time words were escaping from his mouth, the pain throughout his body. He would tell you what happened, when you came back, but only if you asked.

You returned with a small bowl and a rag, something to clean up his face (and anywhere under the clothes he may want cleaned). You sat down beside Joel, on the sofa, "Lay down." He looked confused, not really understanding what you had meant. Not wanting to waste anymore time with those open wounds leaking every so often, you grabbed his shoulders and forcefully (yet carefully) brought him down so his head was rested in your lap.

You could tell that it hurt Joel when you did that by the small grunts he had managed to let escape his lips. You didn't mean to hurt him, not at all, but you couldn't deal with any bickering if he decided to start now. "So, Mister Miller," You began, dipping the rag into the bowl, "How did you get your shit rocked so badly?"

He wasn't impressed by the way you put it, shooting you a quick glare, "Runners." Was all he said. Runners? How could runners do this to him? A million thoughts ran through your head, but you quickly cut yourself short. "Are you-" Joel knew what you were asking, was he bit? "No." He responded, a bit too quick, before continuing his short, yet descriptive, story, "Was with a few people ya'dunno, came across Runners out in a building, they all turned on me'n tried to get out." He paused for a moment, "Four'o them plus two runners on me, would've killed 'em myself if the runners didn't get 'em first."

You could tell Joel was hesitant to tell you, thinking you would see him as weak. No, far from that actually. You could only think highly of the man laying in your lap, for he's how you were thriving in this apocalypse. You brought the dampened rag to the gash on his cheek, he jumped as it was alcohol, and not water, "Don't beat yourself up too much for it," Joel flinched at the stinging sensation, "Your secret's safe with me."

Joel had crossed his arms, his hands brushing past your thighs. You felt as if they lingered too long, maybe it wasn't a passing matter. He's comfortable with you, you know that. This is what friends do, right? You had assessed the other wounds on his face, almost all disinfected completely. The bowl of alcohol now having a slight red tone to it.

After a moment, Joel broke the comfortable silence the two of you were in, "I shouldn't have came. Wastin' all y'ur supplies'n all." This didn't impress you, so Joel had earned a slight slap on his shoulder. "Just let me take care of you, god dammit. How many times have you done it for me?" He was silent after that, knowing. Countless times, after roudy street fights for ration cards, Joel had cleaned you up. Cleaned the blood from your face and stitched the deep gashes that would appear. You were only returning the favour, because that's what friends do.

"Plus," You added now, "we can just scavenge more stuff the next time we take a vacation from this place." If you taking out medicine for him didn't piss him off, this sure as hell did. Without thinking, he reached forward and grabbed your wrist, the wrist that was cleaning up his purpled lip. "Ya' ain't goin' out there, not now, not ever." You had shooed his hand off from you, brushing the comment off, "Can't protect me forever, boss. What's a little fun anyway?" You shouldn't have had the playful grin on your face, but you couldn't help yourself.

Joel could only give you an unhappy look, knowing that you couldn't be stopped with it, as much as he might've tried. He wasn't in the mood to fight you, he wasn't ever really in the mood to fight you. Joel had sat up without a warning, almost causing whatever was left in the bowl to go flying. This earned a whack from you.

"Uhm, ow." He muttered, maybe you shouldn't have done that, added to his pain and all. "Gotta get goin', though." He didn't want to say that, you could tell. It was the tone that he said it in. You could only meet his gaze for a moment, "Stay the night." When someone was hurting like this, how could you say no. How could you turn your best friend away, and let him go home, when he wasn't okay?

You weren't expecting Joel to agree to stay, or at least not cave in without any convincing. It was strange, really, he was acting different. It had to have been the drugs that you had given him, you thought to yourself, maybe it had something that made you nicer to the people you're close with.

You had helped the man up, and left the dirty rag on the table. That was tomorrow (well, when you woke up)'s problem. You took his arm and wrapped it around your shoulders, helping him walk better. You would mother him about his limp and legs when he was recovered. Joel was holding onto you as he moved in sync with you to your room.

Once you got there, you had let go of him. He looked at you for a moment, before turning away. "Can ya', uh, help with my shirt?" He asked. You could only nod your head, maybe a bit too quick for your liking. "Yeah, o'course." Then, following what you just agreed to do, you grabbed the hems of the shirt Joel was wearing and helped to slide it off of him. This is what friends do, right?

You tried your best not to stare, you really did, but the marks on his chest pulled you in. After taking a moment longer to let your eyes linger, you pulled away and helped him under the comforter. "I'll take care'o those tomorrow." You had turned to make your way the door, to sleep on the couch, to give Joel as much space as he could. He grabbed your wrist, though, before you were able to get too far from him. "Can you, er, stay?"

Joel wasn't looking at you when he asked that, he was looking anywhere but. You wanted to stay, really did you, but you felt like you couldn't. "Listen, Joel, I want to, bu-" You were cut off by him interrupting you, "Please." Please. Joel Miller doesn't say please. This took you almost by shock, but you tried not to show it. You only nodded your head, and moved over to the other side of the bed.

You could feel Joel watching your every move, but you didn't care at this moment. You removed your pants, but kept your shirt undergarments on. You would call today a day of victories, not for Joel, but for you. He had listened to you so much, and didn't fight it. You wish it was under different circumstances, but a win is a win. You knew he wasn't up to his usual par, but it still counted.

It happened with a blink of an eye. First you were hesitant to get into the bed with him, not wanting any mixed signals to be sent at the current moment, next you were laying right beside him, and his current good arm wrapped around your waist. If Joel was happy, you were happy. The sounds of rain made it better, made it more peaceful for Joel. He could relax, and take his mind off of the pain he was feeling. This is what friends do for each other.

—

flawless, the neighbourhood

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel tlou #tlou #tlou2 #joel the last of us #joel miller the last of us #joel x you #joel x reader #x reader #gn reader #chasedbyatlantic #joel #miller #the last of us #tlou fic #tlou fanfic #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #miller tlou #f reader #female reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #gender neutral #pedro pascal #pedro #pascal #pedro pascal fandom

[princesssmars]

a few ellie headcanons bc i like her c: sfw.

she is a backpack lesbian. always has a tiny backpack. they are always black or a dark green. will sometimes get a patterned one. maybe has bananas on it. wants to put stickers on basically all of them but won’t because she gets paranoid they’ll get ruined.

i can’t find the post and ong i don’t remember what type of snack girlie i said ellie was but yes. this bitch loves snacks. always snacking. had a four month long addiction to jello it was a little scary.

she can cook for herself! she can make a damn good burger. hates tomato’s because she’s a baby 👎🏽

feel like she likes the weirdest cereals ever…like bae why are you eating kit kat cereal

runs super cold and always has a blanket. lovesss those super thick fluffy blankets that make you wanna fall asleep immediately. begged joel for one of those full body blanket snuggie things and he kept forgetting so she bought a matching dinosaur set with jessie and she loves it.

despite running cold her bedroom fan has not turned off in thirty years.

loves trivia. likes to play are you smarter than a fifth grader because you are NOT gonna catch her fuckin lackin.

likes mixmatched socks. her dryer is always eating half of her pairs so she grows to like it.

calls things pretentious and overrated as a joke bc she is annoying. watching a popular movie? she hates it the author is trying too hard. if she has a letterboxd she is either giving the most in depth review you’ve ever seen or a five star rating with a “cool”.

super nervous at the start of relationship yo show affection but when she’s locked in she is always on you…cuddles all the time. if you’re getting up to do something she is gripping around your waist. it’s cute until you need to go to the bathroom and she is insistent on going with you. once when she was high she told you she’d get a second toilet so you could go together 🫤

playstation girl yawn. she was hyped for elden ring then got her ass beat and didn’t play for a month before randomly deciding to finish it in two weeks.

whoever said she loves spongebob first was right…binges regular show when high. loves breaking bad. will act like she doesn’t like romance shows but if you make her watch the first episode she hasssss to finish it she can’t help ittt… sorry not sorry i’m making her watch bridgerton.

secretly watches those family guy adhd tiktoks

has a habit of watching movies through tiktok

and those space tiktok’s… comparing the gravity of different planets, what’s it’s like to fall through jupiters atmosphere.

likes orcas… watches marine life documentaries and gets emotional.

would know ur birth chart. ever forget ur big three signs? she knows. kind of scary. weird talent. doesn’t believe in astronomy buts knows every basic fact about every sign?? 😭

has two instagrams. her main is for her art and to post pictures with her friends and you. second she posts anything. and i do mean anything. will go from an introspective into idk why hoodwinked is underrated to

loves green it’s literally her color. needs some green in her dorm/apartment. thinks about this ahead of time so when she’s in middle school she starts buying tiny plants to take care of. at the start they’d die in like a week but now she has a dozen and they’re all healthy <3

bunch of posters on her bedroom walls. hates bare walls.

likes to try new hobbies every so often! is lazy about working out but when she does she gets on the treadmill and doesn’t break a sweat no matter how fast. kind of scary.

likes to go on the most random dates. you’ll be sitting on the couch and she’ll show you some random restaurant she saw on like instagram and be like let’s go. right now.

likes when you touch her hair. rest her on top of you while watching a movie and run your fingers through her hair? she’s out like a light. if you want to try different styles on it at home she will let you. doesn’t care if she has stupid looking like stubs everywhere she’s like c:

jesse told her she had a fuck ass bob once and she almost hit him :c

such a bike girl omg. i know she used to put water bottles in the back to make it sound like a motorcycle.

who first came up with that she loves spongebob because you’re so right. tried to act like she’s grown out of it but when she’s high and you’re trying to go to bed she’ll whisper “twenty five” to herself and laugh for five minutes straight.

spider-man girl because she’s cool.

pretends to hate all the dumb nicknames you give her when she does stuff. she makes a pb&j? shes now 'ellie jellie' for the rest of the week. has a stomach ache? now she gets to hear 'ellie bellie' for a month.

links for palestine, sudan, drc

#lowkey nothing but i wanted to talk about her #love this crazy bitch #tlou #tlou 2 #tlou 2 x reader #tlou x reader #ellie #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fluff

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To a Tea 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc. 

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU 

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk. 

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you. 

Summary:  A demanding customer grows increasingly needy.

Character:  Raymond Smith

The title is a pun, don't @ me.

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved. 

“He’s here,” Jenna’s warning brings you attention away from siphoning what’s left off the peppermint leaves into the fresh tin. 

You glance over without any other directive. He always waits in that same spot. Even if the table’s empty, he doesn’t sit right away. You give you co-worker a look and smile as you put the lid on the tin and slide it out of the way. 

You wash your hands thoroughly before you grab the cylinder of disinfecting wipes and sweep around the end of the counter. You step out onto the tea room floor as his eyes find you, expecting you. You’ve adjusted to his ritual, almost compelled to it. 

“Hello, Raymond,” you great as you approach the empty table for two where he sits with his back to the wall and his eyes towards the door. 

“Miss,” he greets in his way. 

He’s a bit uptight. Others might say worse but once you learn his quirks, he’s very human. Even if everything else about him is mysterious. 

Sometimes you build stories about him in his head. His glasses, his neatly styled hair, and his combed beard suggest a man with an eye for his appearance. His suits might be better fit to library or a professor’s podium. Not sleek enough for a board room. Then you think he might be a writer of sorts but you’ve never seen him with a laptop or pen and most of the local authors don’t show up without one or the other. 

You take out a wipe and take your time in getting every inch of the table. You back up as he removes his jacket and you back out of his way. He sidles around the and sits, shoulders set as he grips the table and straightens it. 

Whoever he is, he’s very precise. 

“Usual?” You ask with a smile. 

He looks at you and reaches to pinch the arm of his glasses. The first time he came in, you remember you could’ve melted at his gaze. So stony and unyielding, you wondered why he was even there. Now, there is an ease to it. He prefers the familiar and you have become that. 

“Yes, usual,” he agrees. 

You nod and swiftly turn on your heel. You go back behind the counter as Jenna snoops from behind the cookie display. You shake your head at her as you wash your hands a second time. He will certainly note that as well.  

You go to steep his cup of English Breakfast as the other woman nears and watches the steaming water at your side. 

“Don’t know how you do it. He should just have tea at home.” 

“Can’t complain for business,” you shrug. 

“Why bother? All that fuss for a cuppa.” 

“Maybe he likes the ambience?” You suggest. 

“He said the lights give him headaches.” 

“Oh?” 

“Well, he pays his bill. That’s all I ask for,” you add a teaspoon of milk, measuring it out exactly and you move the tab of the bag to hang to the left of the handle. 

“Mm, and he sures asks a lot of you, don’t he?” She crosses her arms. 

“Jenna,” you look towards the till where a customer waits. 

“Ugh, you’re such a bore,” she chides. 

You go back into the tea room and cross to Raymond’s table. You set the cup and saucer before him. 

“Enjoy,” you insist. 

“Cheers,” he hooks his finger into the handle and turns the cup to an exact angle. 

You lean back on your heel and he raises his palm, “do you... have any suggestions?” 

“For?” You wonder. 

“I thought to try something with my tea today. What do you recommend?” 

“Well, were we thinking something savoury or sweet?” You reply breezily, “our cheese scones are delicious, and there is the chives and onion bake. I sneak one every Friday. Erm, there are the white chocolate shortbread on special and I think we’ve sold out of the cherry tarts. Oh, if you’d like a combination, there is the cranberry cheddar scone. I don’t mind it but I hate the crumbles.” 

He considers you thoughtfully and crosses his arms. He mills the decision with his lips clamped. His blues eyes narrow behind his lenses. 

“Do you have plain shortbread?” 

“Of course,” you chime, “two for a pound.” 

“Two will do,” he agrees. 

You hold your smile and once more set off on your mission. He might be stringent, a bit repressed, but you’ve dealt with worse customers. More demanding, sometimes outrightt rude.  

You dip behind the counter and grab a plate. You use the tongs to take two of the shortbread biscuit and place them on a clean plate. You take a napkin with you and once more emerge from behind the displays. 

You approach Raymond as he sips his tea. You put the plate and serviette before him. He thanks you and adjusts his tie, letting his hand drift down his vest. 

“Is that it, sir? Tea alright?” 

“That’s it,” he affirms. 

“Great, you know where I’ll be,” you chirp and spin.  

You stop before you can bring your foot down as he calls your name. He’s only ever said it once. The first time you met. It’s always ‘miss’. 

You turn to face him, “yes?” 

“Your apron strings are uneven...” he says. “Just figured... I’d warn you.” 

You nearly laugh. What an odd thing to worry about. You reach back behind your waist and feels the lengths. Sure enough, you’ve tied them entirely off kilter. You suppose you don’t pay too much attention to that. 

“Thanks for letting me know.” 

He nods and examines one of the cookies. Then his eyes flick up and keep you from another retreat, “I could fix it.” 

“Oh, er, that’s fine,” you wave him off, “not a big deal.” 

“It doesn’t bother you?” He wonders. 

“Not really,” you shrug, “does it bother you?” 

His brows raise slightly and he taps the cookie, shaking off the crumbs as much as he can. He leans forward and nibbles over the plate, making certain not to litter over the edge. He puts the biscuit down and wipes his fingers on the napkin. 

“It does,” he says. 

You won’t laugh at him. It would truly be at his expense, it’s just a very unexpected offer. You put your arms straight, “if you want.” 

You near and turn your back to him. You sense him leaning forward as you stand stalk straight and watch the tea room. The smell of cinnamon and cloves fills the warm space, the shades giving an orangish hue to the din. There are low tables near the center with pillow seats, and the high tables along the walls. You know all the creaks and cracks better than your own home. 

You feel him tug the knot loose and his fingers work agilely to tie a new knot. He lets it hang but just as quickly looses it again. You try not to move as he does it several times before he relents. 

“There, ears and tails match,” he declares. 

You step away and turn to send him a smile, “thanks.” 

He doesn’t say anything, only raises his cup and doffs it in a kind gesture before he sips. You twist away again. You should help Jenna before the rush begins. That’s the only thing about Raymond, he does take up a lot of time. 

#raymond smith #dark raymond smith #dark!raymond smith #raymond smith x reader #the gentlemen #drabble #sweet and spicy #au #series #to a tea

[moralesmilesanhour]

my neighbor's a punk

summary: you move into a new apartment with a noisy neighbor. inspired by this prompt list! wc: 922 A/N: just wrote this for some practice. I'm getting better at writing longer drabbles, I think! As always feel free to reblog and leave your reactions in the tags or comments. As of the date this is being posted, my requests are also open! (pls check my pinned beforehand)

You had never seen a garden so beautiful.

Vibrant blossoms of yellow and orange greeted you as you hauled two medium-sized boxes carrying the last of your things through the entrance of your new apartment. Their fragrance wafted through the humid summer air, delighting you and confirming that they were, in fact, real. But for the past couple of days that you had been in the process of moving in, you’d never once spotted a gardener or seen the sprinklers turn on. Curious.

The modest apartment had only a couch to occupy the living room, which was currently still dotted with cardboard boxes. A freshly-ironed shirt and work pants lay neatly folded on top of one. You stepped over a few to get to the kitchen, where various unopened appliances were strewn about the counter. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, you made a note to finally put everything away in the cupboards tomorrow evening after work.

No TV meant your only sources of entertainment for the time being were your phone and your laptop. It was now evening, and you were slouched on your sofa in the midst of a harrowing ‘Game of Thrones’ episode when a violent guitar riff ripped through the air and made you jump.

These thin-ass walls…

Whoever was playing (very well, you might add) seemed to be next door, so it didn’t take long to follow the sound to the correct number. You knocked impatiently and rang the doorbell too, for good measure. It took a minute for the music to come to a halt before the sound of heavy footsteps approached the door and you heard it unlock.

Once the door creaked open, you weren’t sure where to look first.

Your eyes darted back and forth between the array of piercings on your neighbor’s face and dangling from his ears, the wicks styled to shoot out from his head like an explosion, and his bright red plaid pants before landing on a pair of large eyes set deeply within a dark, angular face.

Judging by the way his pierced brow quirked up in amusement, you weren’t the first to give him a weird look, and wouldn’t be the last.

You remembered how to speak.

“Oh, um- hey,” you began, “I live next door, and I heard you playing–”

The young man’s face lights up and he interrupts, “Oh, d’you like it? It’s a song I’ve been workin’ on for the past few weeks. Finally got the bridge down.”

You blinked. 

“I mean…it’s not bad. It’s great, even, but–”

“Say, I haven’t seen you around before,” he pointed. “You new here?”

The man spoke with a strong Cockney accent, you noticed, with a tinge of something else that made a couple of vowels run together.

“...Yes, I moved in two days ago,” you sighed. “Now that that’s out of the way, I was about to ask if you could maybe play a lil’ quieter? You’re very loud.”

The realization seemed to dawn on him that you weren’t here to applaud his sick guitar riffs, and he winced. You almost felt bad for disappointing him, but you had a show to binge.

“Ah shit, my fault. Got too used to playing on full volume after the last neighbor moved out,” With a hand placed over his chest, he promised, “Won’t happen again.”

You nodded with a tight smile. 

“Thanks. Goodnight,” you said as you turned to leave.

The next few days were quieter, though you could still hear the neighbor’s guitar through the walls at a much more manageable volume. Sometimes you would hear the man humming to himself in his baritone voice. Eventually, you were so used to it that you found yourself falling asleep to the sound.

One Saturday morning, though, you awoke to the peculiar sound of silence. Normally by now you’d be hearing the first few chords of…whatever the guy was working on, then he’d reach the end by mid-afternoon. Part of you wanted to check up on him, but reason held you back; you’d only spoken to him once. Maybe he was just taking an off day.

Unable to return to sleep, you decided to shower and take a walk outside while the air was still comfortably cool.

As soon as the early morning sun hit your face, a familiar head of hair came into view.

There stood your neighbor–band t-shirt and all–in the garden in front of the apartment. Watering the flowers.

Mystery solved.

“So you’re the reason the plants haven’t died yet,” you laughed, causing his head to snap up.

He grinned, and lifted his watering can proudly. “Sure am. Bring some color into the place.”

“I thought it was awful quiet around here,” you remarked. You toyed with the hem of your t-shirt. “How’s the, uh…song going?”

Something between delight and surprise graced his features and made him look boyish. 

He smiled, revealing a crooked front tooth as he replied, “Almost done with it, actually.”

There was silence for a beat, and the both of you shifted awkwardly where you stood. 

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off. 

“Mind playing it for me when you’re done?”

The tall man seemed about ready to run laps around the block at the suggestion.

Quickly setting his watering can down, he replied, “Thought you’d never ask, mate!”

He jogged his way around the perimeter of the garden and over to you. “Can I get your name while we’re at it?”

“Y/N.” You stuck out your hand, and he shook it.

“Hobie.”

#hobie brown x black!reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown fic #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown x gender neutral reader #atsv x reader #moralesanhour

[mikaela-the-slut-expert]

*knocks the door* Hello there! 💙 I hope you're doing great, because an idea came to my head again!)))

I apologize in advance, because my post will be long and it will be about my OC and his city, so the request will only be at the end. And here's the idea...

I was thinking of a story where my OC would finally be able to feel helpless again and learn to appreciate more that Hualian is around, and at the same time learn to ask for help. A old and basic idea came to mind, BUT... I like it. My OC, a demon and the god of Quiet death, manages his city as your OC and Hua Cheng do. Only for me his city at first looks like a large dark forest with lights of blue flame and animals whose fur is highlighted.. You know, like in Avatar, if you've watched it, or in Skyrim, there are such animals in one of the missions (google the "skyrim vale deer" and that's it)). And then the main part of the city is hidden under the arches of a cave in a huge mountain, where plants and tree grow thanks to magic. And plants highlighted too. It looks like an elven town in the Lord of the Rings, only in Chinese style. A very quiet place where demons and souls come to seek peace, a life they might not have had before death.

The main palace in black and blue tones, dark wood, elegance, expensive, but not fancy things around... HUGE collections of fans and poisons...

And of course, a temple for Xie Lian... It is not big, but extremely cozy, quiet, almost personal, as if the person who created the temple did not show how much he is ready to give to his god, but rather is ready to give extremely little, but no less valuable... His own heart...

So, near the city, an unknown creature began to rage in the village and my OC went to deal with it. Alone. Because, why not actually. Nobody wants to put loved ones' lives in danger, even if they are much stronger than you. And he defeated this creature... But he was cursed and turned into a child. Like... A newborn baby... (If you are not comfortable with children, then you can make him a kitten, small, white fur, frightened eyes and trembling from any rustle)

And just imagine, Hua Cheng and Xie Lian are worried that their beloved has disappeared, and then snakes come to them (pets of my OC, you can change it to birds if you feel comfortable) and bring them their beloved under a curse...

And I wonder how you see Hualian care and how they will remove the curse from their beloved reader X))

Cursed headcanons

Hua Cheng x M!reader x Xie Lian

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorryyyyyyyy 😭🙏 I was taking a small break from writing so plz don't get impatient with me guys. However he's I love that so much? Like the detail? The settings? The animals? I love it wtf? You are I fear. Anyways I hope you like this and I hope it makes you for the long wait😭

And I really, really, really hope you don't mind that I wrote him as a toddler 🫠🙏🖤

Also you said like, how your OC was giving his heart? So I used ashes instead.

Also I rlly am not liking my writing rn so I'm rlly sorry if the quality is awful

____________________________________

When Hua Cheng and Xie Lian saw you again they did not expect to see you as a toddler. As in a little boy. As in not your normal form. . .

You were all supposed to meet up at Puqi shrine, just to hang out, cuddle. You know normal lover stuff.

It seems you didn't make it peacefully, in fact it doesn't even look like you remember them.

Your snakes had apparently led the way.

They knew it was you because of the snakes of course. Also not just any little boy would be okay with snakes roaming over his arms, and neck

Hua Cheng and Xie Lian take you inside and start doting on you immediately

They've found nothing out. You don't remember them, or what happened

Sigh

Xie Lian is worried, initially he doesn't know how to fix it. They don't know anything so how can they fix it?

Hua Cheng is worried but more so angry. Who did this? Was it a heavenly official or maybe a ghost? Whoever it was he'll track them down and take care of them for you

The important part is getting you back to normal first though

Xie Lian asks Ling Wen about what curses it may be

Hua Cheng is trying to think if this might be like the time he turned into a kid too but they crossed that out

At the end of the day they come up with. . . Nothing. Yet.

Xie Lian decides for the three of you that maybe rest is what you all need

So that night in bed a toddler lies between the two of them.

You look comfortable in their arms so at least you aren't crying from fear

Hua Cheng was very happy when you were not scared of him.

The next day Xie Lian and Hua Cheng decide something different.

They know you were at your abode so maybe the problem happened there?

Soooo that's where they go, of course with your snake's help, seeing as you don't remember anything

The whole time you're either in Xie Lian's arms or clinging to Hua Cheng's legs.

They're actually having fun with this whole, you being a toddler thing. Not forever though.

All of you get to your city with no problems. . .

Except when they get to the "city" it's a cave.

At first Hua Cheng is debating to tie your snakes together by the tails but Xie Lian calms him down.

Then they both panic because suddenly you're missing.

The little you ran into the cave!

They give chase and then suddenly are wowed when they see your city.

It was hiding in the cave the whole time. Huh, no wonder.

They also find you petting some strange deer with highlighted fur, like literally glowing.

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng have never seen something like this before, they've never had the chance to see your city.

You're always too embarrassed to let them in

They quickly pick you up and Hua Cheng keeps you in his arms this time.

After admiring the city they follow the snakes again.

This time they've been led to a temple.

Who knows what's going through those snake's minds but apparently they're giving your lovers a whole tour

Because the next stop was a temple.

It's not gaudy but not out of shape either. It's elegant, definitely meant for a well loved god or goddess

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng find out who it's for when they see Xie Lian's statue in the temple.

They look around a bit, surprised there aren't many offerings at all. But they notice why when they look at statue Xie Lian's hair.

A hair pin

It's the only thing that isn't a part of the statue, it's not the same material or anything. So what is it then?

Hua Cheng and Xie Lian carefully look at it. After a few minutes Hua Cheng confirms that the hair pin is made of ashes.

Your ashes.

A hairpin, in Xie Lian's hair, you gifted, your ashes

Oh my

Xie Lian is flustered and puts it back where it was. Hua Cheng is smiling at toddler you

You don't know what's going on just yet but they know what a hairpin means

Once they're done appreciating all the fine details you've made for Xie Lian they're led away once again.

Finally to the spot where you were cursed

Xie Lian guess by the dead creatures carcass you must have been cursed by it.

This won't be a hard curse to get rid of, just destroy the creatures body and get rid of the ashes. Then you should turn back to normal.

So Xie Lian hopes.

Hua Cheng does all of it though he wouldn't dare let Xie Lian touch something so dirty. He places you in the safety of Xie Lian's arms so he can do so

After that's all gotten rid of, toddler you poofs and turns big again

They catch you up to speed pretty quickly, then you get ganged up on by kisses and teasing.

They want to see more of your city before you guys leave

____________________________________

Bro

I'm so sorry if it's bad

just tell me in the comments I might try writing something better. I love you guys 🥰🖤

#tgcf #tgcf headcanon #hualian #hualian x reader #hua cheng x reader #tgcf x male reader #xie lian x reader #tgcf hua cheng #tgcf hualian #tgcf xie lian

[sugarandspiceandeverythingelse]

Ryu Si-Oh/Kang Nam-Soon one-shot

Background: I'm working on a sort-of alternate universe series for Strong Girl Nam-Soon; where the main couple is Ryu Si-Oh and Kang Nam-Soon, and it revolves around Nam-Soon's life and Si-Oh's redemption. For some reason, it's harder for me to start at the beginning and write chronologically so until I figure out how I want things to begin in this AU, I'll just post the cute/fluffy one-shots that pop into my head.

Prompt: Nam-Soon wins a bet.

Nam-Soon didn't even try to conceal the teasing grin that stretched across her face as she approached Si-Oh. She began to dance, moving her body joyfully and shimmy-ing her shoulders as she lightly sang the tune of Gangnam Style.

Si-Oh watched her approach with an indulgent curl of his lips, tipping his head back to stare at the blue sky above as she drew closer. Only looking back down when she hopped with both feet to stand at attention in front of him, staring up at him triumphantly.

"Shall we?" He gestured for her to walk in front of him towards the company car, but she stayed stubbornly planted before him.

"Not until I hear you say it." She slyly replied.

Si-Oh sighed, experiencing an odd mixture of both annoyance and affection towards his pint-sized assistant. Normally such insolence would have lit a fire in his gullet, triggering a defensive response that demanded he crush whoever had the arrogance to challenge him. But coming from her, with her sparkling eyes and infectious smile ... he found himself basking in the warmth of her camaraderie.

"Ah, yes. You were correct, I concede defeat."

Her chin lifted proudly, as she reached up with one hand to flip her long hair over her shoulder. "Thank you, thank you. Naturally, I deserve a prize for this display of business prowess. What are you willing to give me as a reward?" Her tone was light and unserious, her face open and happy.

The question from anyone else would have had him tensing in preparation for conflict. From her, he only felt what most people must mean when they refer to getting butterflies. The answer left his lips before he consciously made the decision to reply ...

"Anything."

Nam-Soon's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Anything?" She repeated in question.

Si-Oh nodded definitively, before voicing his confirmation. "Anything."

"Hmm..." She pondered aloud, raising a delicate finger to tap at her chin, and squinting her eyes dramatically. "That is quite the invitation. I'll have to think on it carefully. An opportunity like this shouldn't be wasted, you know." She chirped pertly, before turning on her heel and beginning to stride towards the car. He followed at a more leisurely pace, keeping his strides shorter to match her shorter legs.

"Should I be worried?" He volleyed back, fully knowing he needn't worry at all.

"Oh yes," she said sunnily as the driver opened the side door for her to climb in. She peeked back at Si-Oh from over her shoulder, taunting him in a comedic timbre "Be afraid, be very afraaaiidd..." her voice pealing off into silly laughter as she climbed into the dark vehicle.

Si-Oh found himself smiling once again as he seated himself next to her. It seemed to be happening more often the more time he spent with Nam-Soon. He was both curious and intrigued by the development. He didn't know necessarily what it was about her that drew him, like a moth to a flame. All he knew was that the more time he spent in her presence, the more the cold, dark spaces inside of him seemed to shrink. He wanted more. No. He *craved* more, more than any drug he'd ever used. Being near her was like being injected with pure light, concentrated sunshine. And for a man like him, who had been denied every affection and comfort since he was a child ... he was helpless to resist her.

#strong girl nam-soon #strong girl nam soon #k drama #korean drama #kdrama fanfic #kdrama #kdrama fanfiction #ryu si-oh #ryu shi oh #ryu sioh #ryu shioh #kang nam-soon #kang nam soon #ryu si-oh x kang nam-soon #fanfiction #fanfic #one-shot #alternate universe #strong girl nam-soon alternate universe #cute #fluff #fluffy #si-oh x nam-soon

[ggomos-maribat]

5 | on the sixteenth of April

Part 5 of Marinette Dupain-Cheng is Dead | Masterlist

"Babsie."

No reply.

"Babs, did you look into it?"

Barbara's chin dropped to her fist as she scrolled through all the posts. She already had half the mind to mute out Tim but decided against it. Heaving out a big sigh, she replied, "No, I haven't. These posts were all made with fake accounts and I can't trace them. At all."

"All of the posts?"

"Well, no, just the ones that started out on the day the rumors blew up. The other accounts and stories are real—I double checked—but a handful were from glitchy accounts."

If she were to be honest, after hearing all about the case from Tim, Barbara expected them to solve it in a day or two. But this perspective of it was just as baffling, and she knew Tim himself couldn't find anything more than she could.

"It could be connected to her death . . . assuming those posts came from one person, then they must have something to do with Marinette's death, right?"

"Maybe," Barbara hummed absentmindedly. "Look, Tim, I've got loads of other work to do. I'll give it more time later; I'll tell you if I find something."

"Sure, thanks Babs. Jason says thanks too."

Barbara stared at her phone after the call, before it rang again.

***

Here lies Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a loving daughter, friend, our everyday Ladybug.

The headstone contained those simple words. Painted at the bottom was a branch of plum blossom, a symbol found in most of her creations. She was only one person among the many in the cemetery, but her death felt more real when it was marked on that rock. Tim bent down to place a single flower in front of it.

He glanced at Jason, wondering if he felt discomfort being in a place he had once crawled out of.

"At least she's resting," said Jason, gaze lowered. Tim nodded in agreement.

After just talking to Kagami Tsurugi and Luka Couffaine, Tim finally understood what Adrien meant by 'protective'. Both were stubbornly tight-lipped—Tsurugi being cold and stoic, while Luka being good at diverting to another topic. Suffice to say they didn't gain any useful information. Chloe's lead seemed to be on a roadblock for the meantime too.

Tim stared at the words. What had she been thinking in her last moments? Was her spirit craving for vengeance? What should they do?

"Did you know they symbolize perseverance?" Jason said out of the blue.

"What?"

"Plum blossoms. Also 'patience' and 'good health'," he replied, "That sounds like her."

Tim sighed. Yeah we could use that patience right now. "What if we're not meant to find out the truth?"

"But no matter how you look at it, it's a fishy case. Whoever covered this up, they deserve to be exposed."

Before Tim could think of a reply, they heard another set of footsteps was heading towards them. They came face-to-face with a tall young woman, with straight jet black hair cropped close to her neck and a long skirt that tickled the ground, along with thick boots. She, too, brought along flowers which she would offer to Marinette. They way she stood—stiff and straight, just with the right level of grace—reminded Tim of a professional dancer.

"Hello," the woman greeted quietly, "Who are you two?"

"Private consultants." Jason smoothly played the 'fake detective' card again. "We're here for an anonymous request for the reinvestigation of Marinette Dupain-Cheng's death."

The woman's eyes widened slightly. "I see," she murmured, gliding past them to lay down her own flowers.

Seeing her up close, the resemblance struck Tim immediately—though having a different style, this woman must be Juleka Couffaine, twin sister to the man they had just talked to earlier that day. He remembered that she worked as a professional model in Los Angeles.

"She was my classmate," Juleka said softly, "This is the only time I can visit home so I decided to stop by. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Tim and Jason shared a look. The former replied, "Did you notice anything strange before her death?"

She thought for a moment, and then shook her head slowly. "Sorry, I can't think of anything." She shifted from one foot to another. "By any chance . . . have you talked with Luka Couffaine? He and Marinette were close."

"We have but . . ."

She gave a wry smile. "Let me guess. Talking with him is like going around in circles?"

Tim nodded. "He's very fond of Marinette, but he was . . . hesitant about sharing."

Though 'hesitant' wasn't exactly the right word for it. More like 'closed off'?

"Luka is my brother actually. When Marinette died, he stopped playing music and hid everything she made for him," Juleka recounted grimly. "I tried to stop him, but he refused to talk to me at that time."

Tim didn't imagine Luka to be like that—in fact, he even talked about Juleka when their band got brought up. But then again, maybe his coldness had been because of another reason . . . Could Juleka have sided with Lila at one point?

She sighed. "To be honest, I think Luka changed because of it. He tries to hide it, and he's good at that, but he never vents it out to anyone."

"That's uh, a normal grief response."

"Come to think of it, there's one thing from Marinette that Luka kept," said Juleka. "He didn't bring it along with him though when he started going on his tours. It's in our room. Maybe it'll help with your investigation."

Tim pursed his lips. "I'm sorry miss . . . er . . ."

"Juleka. Juleka Couffaine."

"Right. Miss Couffaine, do you think it's a good idea to just hand us something that's your brother's?" 

"I'm not giving it to you; I'm just letting you take a look. Before he left, Luka told me to 'take care of it' as if I wasn't also leaving." She crossed her arms. "So I don't think the secrecy of it matters to him. It's just that I can't make sense of it, and why it's the one thing Luka chose to keep."

"What do you mean?" asked Jason.

"I'll show you. Our houseboat's nearby."

Tim should've known better than to spontaneously agree to follow a stranger just for a potential clue, but he was getting curiouser by the minute. If Marinette left Luka something that points to her death, it could be important to shed light on all the mystery. Jason also looked convinced about it.

The Couffaine houseboat stuck out loudly in the street. The carefree design of its exterior strangely matched Juleka's reserved nature. She had them wait outside as she slipped into the abode to retrieve the so-called clue.

"Couffaine didn't tell us anything about that," Jason piped up.

"Luka Couffaine didn't tell us anything."  Tim rolled his eyes. "We'll just have to take this chance and hope it gets us somewhere."

Juleka soon came back—

"A pouch?" Jason stared at the little crocheted piece in her hands. It was made of blue and purple threads, with a darker color forming a sort of pattern on it.

"She loved making handcrafted things." She carefully handed it to them. "It's not the pouch itself that's important. It's what's inside."

There's something inside this? It feels so light. Slowly, Tim pulled at the top of the pouch to let it open. Inside was a small pink piece of paper, bearing a doodle that looked like a box with a curled letter 'M' on it.

A memory flashed in his mind. Adrien's office. That strange box!

"Does it make sense to you?" Juleka's eyebrows knit together.

"I don't think so," Jason lied, putting it all back together and returning it to her. "Is it something Marinette owned?"

The woman bit her lip. "I think it was, but I don't remember it very well. It could be in her room, if you could visit the Dupain-Chengs' bakery."

But it's not in her room. It's with Adrien . . but why?

"We still appreciate your help," Tim consoled, "We'll look into it more, don't worry."

Her grip on the pouch tightened. Just a little. "Okay. I hope . . . I hope I can be useful this time."

***

"Sabrina, I love these cupcakes you brought!"

Sabrina tucked her hair behind her ear. "Really? I ordered a custom box for you. I thought you'd like it."

Saturday morning welcomed the two with pastries and coffee inside Lila's lavish apartment, which was currently being arranged by her staff for a shoot. Lila herself was clad in a bathrobe, with only part of her hair done.

The brunette picked up a delicately-made cupcake, holding it between her thumb and index. "So I was wondering by the way . . ."

"Hmm?"

"Remember when we had that reunion?" She propped her chin on her other hand. "I was just a little concerned about Chloe. Was she acting a bit strange to you?"

Sabrina's eyes widened as she remembered the reunion: Chloe's pale face, shaking hands. "Yeah, Chloe was acting weird. She kept looking at Adrien."

"What's up with that?"

Sabrina shook her head. "I don't know. She pulled him aside after but I couldn't hear what they were saying. She just kept pulling on him and asking him 'tell me, tell me', and she looked very anxious."

Lila blinked. "And how did Adrien react?"

Sabrina's expression darkened. "I don't know. He looked a bit mad, or annoyed maybe."

At first there was a calculating face on Lila, as if she was weighing something over. But then she transitioned into an airy laugh. "It's just Chloe being clingy as usual then! Poor Adrien . . ."

But Chloe's grown out of that phase, Sabrina wanted to protest. Usually, Chloe was calm and collected, and if she became visibly nervous then something must be wrong. But Sabrina couldn't think of anything that would set her off, so she kept quiet about it and didn't ask Chloe.

"Thanks for telling me, Sabrina, it's been at the back of my mind for ages." Lila smiled widely. "Speaking of Adrien, I think it's time I have a chat with him."

***

"And that's why we have to go back to Adrien and talk to him." Tim pressed the phone closer to his ear.

Dick hummed, feet propped up on a table in the Batcave. He'd been looking into the case himself on the side, sometimes asking for Damian's input as well. "How sure are you he'll talk or let you look into that box?"

"I think he'll be loose-lipped about it . . . I mean he wants to find out the truth,  right? He won't deny us a clue!"

"Fine, but if he won't touch the subject, there's something else I want you to ask him."

"What is it?"

Dick tapped his pen against his cheek, looking at a photo on the screen. "There's one more person we haven't considered who might have insight on this case, who had these back and forth trips to Paris shortly after Marinette's death. I need you to ask Adrien about him."

Taglist: @hammalammadamdam @toodaloo-kangaroo@missmadwoman @afanofmanyships@atomicherringpersonjudge-blog@wheredostarsgowhenyoudie

#maribat fanfic #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat #maribat fic #character death #major character death #angst #MDC is Dead #dc x miraculous #tw mentions of suicide #tw mention of death

[the-penguinspy]

Also, not me not realizing you rbed a prompt post until now :( ONLY if you want to bc I'm like ten years late or smth!

27: I can't think when you keep looking at me like that.” for whoever strikes ur fancy :)

not me, replying, 10 years late as well...thank u for the prompt smo, 'twas truly lovely to write for :)

--

The living room still smells like the remnants of their breakfast. American-style this morning – maple sausages and fried eggs, waffles and coffee; something Ava had been craving, something Beatrice had given in to. 

She’s sated and full, the meal sitting heavy in her belly, and she’d love nothing more than to indulge herself in some mid-morning cuddles with Beatrice, maybe even make out a little bit. Instead, she’s sitting on Beatrice’s lap on the couch, knees bracketing hips. Not a bad place to be in, not at all! But her hands are occupied with a stack of multi-coloured flashcards and she’s studying.

“Bea, don’t we have fake licenses expressly for this purpose? Don’t these rules go out the window when it’s my turn to drive, anyway?”

“You don’t have to take the test, but most of the time we won’t be having dramatic car escapades. You’ll have to learn the rules of the road.”

“I think a little rule breaking is healthy sometimes. Necessary, even.”

Beatrice hums. “You can’t break the rules if you don’t know what they are.”

Ava groans and throws her head back dramatically, Beatrice’s hands coming up to hold her by the waist to prevent her from falling backwards. “I think I'll know when the rules are broken when I get five honks in a row,” she says, addressing the ceiling. “Bonus points for prolonged honks that sound like harmony.”

“Please don’t cause unnecessary grievances for your fellow drivers,” Beatrice says. Ava straightens up at that. Narrows her eyes at Beatrice. She opens her mouth and is about to dispute the accusation when the hands at her waist squeeze hard, once, and the air in her lungs leave her in a stint of breathless laughter. 

Beatrice leans in close. “What was that you were going to say?” she asks, fingers digging into Ava’s waist, making her laughter burst out unchecked.

“I said–” Another warning squeeze, and Ava’s cut off as she wheezes. “Okay, okay! I won’t– Bea, stop– I won’t cause unnecessary grievances for my fellow drivers.”

“Thank you, darling.” Beatrice reaches out to tuck a stray hair behind Ava’s ear, smiling when Ava presses a kiss to her palm. She goes back to her stack of flashcards – written by her own hand, thank you very much – reading each question out loud and pairing it with an answer before flipping to the back to check. Beatrice’s hands rest on her thighs, and she hums encouragingly. 

Ava scans the newest question. “What should you do – uh oh, this doesn’t sound good – in the event of a fire in a tunnel?” The stack has lessened by half. Cards are scattered beside her on the couch, a few of them making a home between the cushions. 

She narrows her eyes and tries to pry the answer from her mind. Step one: don’t get close to the fire, obviously, otherwise the car would explode. Step two: stop the car. Step three: find and use the SOS phone, or get out using the emergency exit. Wait, should she use the SOS phone before leaving for the exit? Maybe someone else had already reported the fire, but then again, what if nobody hadn’t? 

She mouths the question to herself silently, fingers itching to turn the card over to get the answer. She squints at the question and traces the words, following the swoops and curves of the lettering, but it’s quite difficult to focus when there’s a more enticing view in her periphery. 

Try as she might, but her gaze keeps getting drawn back to Beatrice’s face. In her defence, it’s a very pretty face – Beatrice’s eyes are a rich, dark brown, focus intense on her, and the way the morning light shines on her face makes her freckles stand out; not stars, but still constellations in their own right. 

It all falls away, is the thing – the stack of cards is held in front of her and she can see the hard-practiced cursive of her penmanship that graces the paper, but it all melts away in the face of Beatrice’s attention on her. It’s thrilling. Addictive. The answer to the question eludes her, slips out of her grasp, driving theory all but forgotten.

“Ava?”

A huff and a pout, and Ava’s crossing her arms, hand gripped tight onto the cards to keep them from spilling everywhere. “Bea, I can't think when you keep looking at me like that.”

The blush that blooms on Beatrice’s cheeks is so pretty, even now. Ava feels her teeth ache with it. “My sincerest apologies. Let me remedy that immediately,” Beatrice says, the corners of her mouth twitching. She furrows her brows and frowns in mock-seriousness, and shuts her eyes. 

Ava privately laments her loss but this, at least, is more conducive to her focus.

She’s about to read the flashcard again to remember what the question was exactly, when she feels calloused fingers gently slide up her thighs. Beatrice’s hands reach the bottom of her cotton shorts, fingers barely dipping underneath the hems, before they rest there. She’s used to the frequency of Beatrice’s tactility now, but her chest still warms whenever Beatrice initiates the contact. 

It would have been fine if those hands had stayed, but no – they make their way down her thighs slowly, fingertips dragging, before moving upwards once again with a more pronounced pressure. 

Ava’s breath hitches. The smirk that graces Beatrice’s face is indicative that she caught it, her smile growing wider as Ava’s hands migrate to rest on her shoulders. Ava pitches her hips forward to lean into the contact, and she lets out a whine as Beatrice retracts her hands ever so slightly. “You’re such a tease. Aren’t you supposed to be helping me study?”

“I recall that you’re the one who suggested this method of studying,” Beatrice points out. Her tone wobbles slightly, laughter barely held in check, and Ava shoots her a half-hearted glare – not that Beatrice can see it. “Call it a sneak peek,” Beatrice says, “twenty more questions, then we’ll take a short break.”

“Ten.” “Fifteen.”

Ava beams. “Deal. Although, I think I need a little something to help jumpstart the studying process again. You know, to remind me of why I’m doing this in the first place.”

An eye cracks open at that, and Ava flutters her eyelashes for good measure. The coaxing is unneeded, though – Beatrice lets out a quick huff of laughter as she leans in, and Ava meets her in the middle. 

The kiss is slow and sweet; a delicious sample of what’s to come. But Ava’s never been particularly good at waiting – she’s harboured an itching sense of impatience ever since the Halo had been embedded onto her back, the feeling only exacerbated by the blue-shifted timeline of the Holy War. Thus, the desire to take life by the reins, to devour its offerings, had become a habit formed quickly by will and necessity. Every facet of life she’d missed out on – she’d wanted it all, had always been hungry for it. 

But – the war is over now. The life she’s building together with Beatrice is never going to be snatched away by divine hand, by demons or monsters or duty or sacrifice, not anymore. Ava’s still oh-so-hungry for it, and she can afford to linger now, but still, in moments like these? Where it’s just the two of them, unhurried, where love permeates every breath, every look, every gesture? It’s hers, it’s Beatrice’s, it’s theirs for all time, but somehow it’s moments like these where Ava can’t help but feel the most greedy; can’t help but give in to the urge to take, to hold between the canines of her teeth. 

She tilts her head to deepen the kiss, fingers twitching against Beatrice’s shoulders. The hands on her thighs tighten their grip in approval, and the feeling sparks a hot thrill up her spine that disperses rapidly through her veins. 

But all too soon, Beatrice pulls back. She doesn’t move far though; her lips ghost over Ava’s chin, her jaw. Ava holds herself still, waits until Beatrice’s mouth brushes against hers in one last kiss. Only then does Beatrice lean back. And only then, in the gift of this space, does Ava let her composure crumble, body and spirit rejuvenating with a harsh and shaky inhale. 

“Can I open my eyes now, or will that be too distracting for you?” Beatrice’s voice is low and sweet with the tease, the cadence of her breathing unfairly even; this close, her breaths fall damp over Ava’s lips and taunt her with their proximity, and Ava has to fight to loosen her muscles, to not give in to the chase.

Tempting as always, but – Ava stays strong. She places a small kiss on the tip of Beatrice’s nose, revels in the warmth of her smile and how her eyes crinkle at the corners, before settling in place and returning to her flashcards once more. “Keep them closed, please, or I’ll never learn how to drive normally.”

#warrior nun #warrior nun fic #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #penguin writes #ava after she's gone thru the driving theory and has applied it well IN PRACTICE: ok bea ive been so so so good right? so can you. #can you teach me how to drift- #bea: no. #(reasoning: tyres are expensive. drifting takes practice. the smell of burnt rubber is not a great smell to smell.) #smokestarrules

[daddyy333]

“I’m scared” | Steve Rogers x y/n

if you’d like you can reblog my original work, but please don’t post it without credit. if you take inspiration from my ideas please tag me, I’d like to see how someone else would write it

word count: 3.6k

warnings: reader is kidnapped, reader is tortured, ready is severely injured, hospitals, blood, bruising, panic attack

summary: Even the strongest people, including Avengers, feel human emotions and y/n still hasn’t gotten used to that

Steve paced the room, clutching your dog tags in one hand whilst he rested his hands on his hips. 6 days. 6 goddamn days they’d had you. They sent your dog tags back to them on day 2, and had been sending untraceable videos every 12 hours.

He should’ve stopped you. He got trapped under some debris and instead of getting out of there you focused on getting him out. When you finally did, more Hydra agents came running towards you and you shoved Steve out of the building and ran to fight them off.

That was the last time he saw you. No “goodbye”, no “I love you”, no hug, just pure fear and adrenaline running through each other's veins. You were in awful shape from what he’d seen in the videos, beaten nearly to death.

You were barely conscious now, your head throbbing and your vision blurred and slightly darkened in your left eye. You couldn’t hear normally and your entire body hurt like hell. You think you were stabbed in your thigh, or at least cut because it hurt so much and there was a puddle of blood underneath you.

“Steve…” you whimpered softly, shaking as you laid on the floor in the fetal position. Your hands and legs were tied, leaving with no way to move or even think about getting out between the restraints and the pain.

“P-Please…Steve,” you cried, begging for him to save you. You were so scared and in so much pain, you just wanted to hear his voice or feel his touch again. You wanted to be with him again, to be safe.

Another shock to your back, the police taser they must’ve stolen or bought illegally leaving you unconscious. At least you wouldn’t feel the pain for a while.

Steve sighed, running his hand through his messy hair. Bucky suddenly opened the door noisily, panting harshly. “Steve! Steve, come on let’s go” he said and Steve shook his head, brows furrowed but before he could ask Bucky was already gone.

He scoffed and ran after him, being led to the quinjet. “What’s going on?” He asked, his heart pounding. Tony flew in after him and said “we’ve got a location, suit up”

12 minutes later they were landing in front of what looked to be an abandoned building, but there was a small hydra symbol scratched into the door. Steve didn’t even bother to listen to the plan, he sprinted as fast as he could and kicking the door in.

He searched every room, fighting off whoever he had to. The team followed, their only focus to find you and bring you home. Bucky was the one that found you, and his heart broke. You’d become like a little sister to him, and he didn’t want to see you like this.

“Nat! Come here!” He said, panicking because he couldn’t tell if you were breathing. He let out a shaky breath and said “whatever you do, do not let Steve in here” “oh god,” she said, catching a glimpse of you. He snapped and said “hey! I’m serious”

Natasha nodded and Bucky closed the door, running to you. He gently moved you onto your back, feeling for a pulse. It was weak, but you were still alive. He shook you lightly, trying to wake you up, your skin ice cold.

“Y/n! Come on, come on, wake up!” He said and sighed. Tony came in and shook his head, using the suit to get your basic vitals like your heartbeat and stuff. “We need to get her to a hospital. She’ll be- god, she’ll be fine as long as she gets to a hospital” Tony said and picked you up bridal style.

You groaned weakly, a tear falling down your face. “Hey, hey it’s just me. It’s Tony. The big asshole you hate more than anyone in the world, remember?” He said and more tears slipped down your face. You moved your jaw just slightly, a weak attempt at a whisper as you basically mouthed “Tony?”

“Yea, yea I’m here. Don’t panic, alright? We’ve got you now, you’re safe. We’re gonna take you to the hospital” he said and you moved your head into his chest, a small and pained sob leaving your mouth.

Tony bit his lip, shaking his head. He sighed and said “Natasha! Open the door!” As he moved out of what felt like a jail cell. She gasped as she saw you, tears filling her eyes.

“Y/n?” Steve said, his voice shaky and his breathing harsh and unsteady. Tony cursed and you groaned. “Steve” you whispered hoarsely. You could barely hear well enough, but it was so quiet you hoped whoever was calling your name was Steve.

“Hey, hey it’s me. I’m right here, y/n, it’s me. It’s Steve” he said and you forced your eyes open as much as you could. You whimpered, squirming and whining as you whispered Steve’s name over and over.

Tony gently placed you in his arms and you settled after a few moments, his warm hands cradling your body and his voice settling your anxiety in ways you didn’t think were possible. “Don’t go…please…stay wi-…with me” you struggled to say and he shushed you, assuring you that he was with you.

He tried to put you down so that the nurses in the quinjet could do whatever they could to help you but you whined, your cries getting stronger and your fear and discomfort obvious. He sat on the stretcher and said “okay, okay I’m here. I won’t let you go, I’ll hold on to you as long as I can, alright?”

You whimpered in response and the nurses started wiping away the dirt and blood off of your body. You whined and groaned, crying out when they brushed over bruises and cuts. “I’m so sorry…I’m so goddamn sorry” Steve said, caressing your hand.

You winced, a pained sound leaving your mouth as they tried to move your ankle. Yea, you thought something happened to it but now you were sure it was sprained or something.

Steve almost felt nauseous watching this happen, tears stinging in his eyes. He just wanted to close his eyes and then wake up next to you and be told he was having a nightmare and you’re completely fine. But of course that wasn’t going to happen.

As soon as they got to the hospital Steve ran into the building, begging for help. The doctors brought over a stretcher and he ran after them as the moved you to a trauma room. “Sir you can’t be in here, you need to wait in the waiting room” one of the nurses said and he sighed.

“Steve” you said weakly, sniffling. The doctor was trying to calm you done but the heart monitor was proving that you were only panicking without him. “Okay, okay damn it, get him in here” the doctor said and Steve was at your side in the blink of an eye, holding your hand and making sure you could hear his voice and know that he was there.

You cried and cried through the pain, and even passed out twice which was scaring the shit out of Steve. “Okay, we don’t think you’ll need surgery but we are going to give you a sedative so you can calm down and won’t exactly feel everything while we work on you” the doctor said and you groaned weakly.

Steve worried when your eyes fluttered close yet again, and his heart dropped when they said you were completely fine but the mild sedative made you sleep because of how exhausted your body was. He still stayed with you, refusing to leave, even when the doctors told him he needed to be checked as well, as he did get a few minor injuries while fighting off hydra agents.

Eventually he dozed off at your bedside, exhausted from days staying up late worrying about you. They had to find their strongest doctors to lift the dead weight that was Steve Rogers onto a stretcher which is when he finally decided to wake up.

“Hey, hey! Where’s y/n!” He said, panicking. They moved so he could see you right next to him. “She’s alright, she’s all taken care of now, we need to have a look at you please” one of the nurses said and he sighed. He laid back down, letting them wheel him to the next room and changing into a hospital gown so they could access different parts of his body better.

He sighed, hands and feet shaky as he waited impatiently for them to finish. He knew he was fine, this was so unnecessary when what he needed right now was to be by your side.

As soon as they said he was fine he put his suit back on and ran to your room. You were still asleep, your lips in an adorable pout as your long lashes kissed your cheeks. You look so much better, of course you had some bruises and a few cuts here and there but it was nothing compared to how bad he thought it was.

He gently grabbed your hand, kissing it softly as a tear fell down his face. He just wanted you to wake up, he wanted to hear your voice and look into your eyes and know that you were okay and you were with him.

His gaze trailed to the heart monitor, watching it beep steadily. 83 beats per minute. His was 105 right before they let him go and it probably still was. He was really really anxious.

A few minutes later the team came in and all collectively sighed with relief, which almost made Steve chuckle. Wanda came in and said “I-I’m so sorry, I did not know what was happening until I saw it on the news. Why wasn’t I informed?”

She looked towards the team but was shocked to hear Steve speak. “Didn’t want to bother,” he said softly. She sighed and said “bother? Ugh, you upset me sometimes” He chuckled and she brushed your hair out of your face.

“What happened?” She asked and Steve sighed. He bit his lip and said “I uh…got trapped under some debris and couldn’t get out and she came back to help me and we were trying to get out of there and she got me out and basically offered herself to them to keep the rest of us safe. It’s my fault”

“Steve, it's not your fault. It’s no one’s fault. She did what had to be done. She knew the consequences and she’d probably do it again just for you, punk.” Bucky said and sighed. Steve looked away, a sad smile on his face. He didn’t deserve you.

The team brought him some clean clothes and he changed and finally ate something. He was so glad you were okay, he had to keep himself from giggling like a little kid.

He let you sleep for hours, and even dozed off himself until finally you woke up. It was night time now, and when your eyes focused you could see it was 8:28pm on the clock on the opposite wall to the one your bed was against.

You nearly panicked, your heart rate spiking for a moment before you looked around and realized you were in a hospital. You tried to lift your hand but there was some kind of weight holding it down.

You looked over and saw Steve sleeping, his head partially on your hand whilst he held it in his sleep. “Steve,” you said, relieved. Your voice was a bit more clear and louder than before and it woke him up out of his light sleep.

His head shot up frantically and you gasped, not expecting that. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, looking up at you. He gasped, a smile instantly forming on his cute face. You slowly placed your other hand on his cheek, caressing it softly.

“You found me,” you said, tears forming in your eyes. He nodded, cupping your hand with his free hand, kissing it softly. “Can I hold you? Please?” He said, his baby blues forming into adorable little puppy eyes.

You felt safe. Every feeling of fear and pain was gone. You trusted him more than anything. “Please?” You said quietly and he felt his heart flutter. He stood up and sat next to you, wrapping his arm around you and letting you lean into his warm chest.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. You have no idea how scared I was, y/n, I was worried sick. I couldn’t eat, I could barely sleep, all I wanted was to be in this moment right here” he said and you sighed shakily, tears forming in your eyes.

“I was so scared, Steve” you said, his heart breaking at the cracks in your shaky voice. He held you tight, but gently as you cried softly, trying to hold it back. “I know, babe. I can’t imagine the kind of things you experienced and I hope every one of those heartless assholes rots in hell. You’re safe now, my beautiful doll. I won’t let anything happen to you” he said and you sniffled.

“I love you” you cried into his chest, over and over again. You worried you’d never see him again, never hear his voice again or feel his strong arms around you. “I love you more,” he said, kissing your head.

He spent every moment you were awake holding you and reassuring you and making sure you were okay. He fed you and helped you shower, and spent ten minutes before the shower reassuring you that he wouldn’t judge you for your new scars and bruises, that he loved every part of you and those scars proved just how strong you are.

He talked to all the doctors for you and communicated everything to you so it wouldn’t overwhelm you, and you were out the next night. Steve drove you home, one hand holding yours and the other steering. He caressed your hand the entire time, sometimes tapping his thumb to the best of the low music or tracing shapes.

Once you parked you didn’t even have time to blink and he was at your side, helping you out of the car. You could walk okay now, your ankle was a little swollen but there was nothing wrong internally so it must’ve just gotten hit pretty bad at some point.

With the I.Vs they’d given you and the food Steve had shoved down your throat you actually felt pretty energized already, greeting the team with a shy smile. Everyone looked so relieved to see you alive and well, especially Nat and Bucky.

“Scared the hell out of me, kid. Quit being the hero, damn it” Nat said, sighing. Steve kissed your head and said “she’s right, babe” “yea, yea, yea” you said and chuckled.

“You alright?” He asked and you nodded. You held onto his arm as you said “I’m fine, Steve. Whatever happened, happened. It’s over now I’m fine” “are you sure?” He asked and you rolled your eyes. “I’m gonna hit you” you said and he chuckled, kissing your cheek.

Eventually you got back to your bedroom, throwing your hair up in a messy bun and changing into your comfiest clothes. “Steve?” You asked as you came out, noticing he wasn’t in the room anymore. You cleared your throat and sat on the bed, sighing.

You opened your phone and checked whatever notifications you had, scrolling for a bit. Something shiny on your desk caught your attention and you stood up, slowly making your way over. You picked up your dog tags, a shiver running down your body.

Tears filled your eyes and you felt shaky, your heartbeat thumping in your chest. Your hand began to shake and you blinked a few times, shaking your head. You whimpered slightly, trying to sit on the bed but you missed and fell right on your ass.

It brought right back to that stupid cell, being thrown down on the floor and kicked against the wall. You can still feel that pain in your body and combined with the pain you were experiencing from falling made it hard to even think about calming down.

“Steve” you called weakly, you were trying to be loud but you couldn’t breathe and your throat felt so tight. Tears rolled down your face as you frantically tried to catch your breath but no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t do it and it was scaring you more.

You tried to call for Steve again but you couldn’t even speak, and your vision was blurry and started to blacken. You whimpered and sobbed weakly, worried that somehow you were going to die and put Steve through the trauma of finding you.

“Here, I made you a grilled cheese- woah, woah woah woah babe…” he said and set the plate down on the nightstand, trying to get your attention without touching you. You continued to cry, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to focus on breathing.

“Y/n! Y/n, come on look at me please sweetheart. I’m right here,” he said and gently placed a hand on your back. You jumped, trying to focus on whoever was touching you. You blinked rapidly, realizing it was Steve.

He pulled his hand off and you whined, grabbing onto his shirt and trying to hide yourself in his chest. “Steve, Steve! Steve!” You cried weakly, just barely whispering as loud as you could. He carefully wrapped his arms around you, kissing your head.

“I’m here, I’m here y/n. It’s me, Steve. Tell me what’s wrong. Are you in pain?” He asked and moved your head to his heartbeat, the sound you’d fall asleep to every chance you had. Your body was shaking so hard, you squeezed his shirt tight out of pure fear.

“You have to breathe, doll. Try to catch your breath, I’ll do it with you come on” he said and you groaned. You whimpered weakly, whispering something that Steve barely managed to understand.

“Please don’t h-hurt me, don’t hurt m-me, don’t- don’t hurt m-m- me,” you repeated over and over again. He closed his eyes for a moment, his heart clenching at how scared and frantic you seemed to be.

He held you tight, speaking softly and trying to encourage you to focus and calm down. It took so long, your food got cold, but eventually you were taking deep breaths all on your own, tears dried on your face. You were still shaking, hands still holding tight onto Steve.

You feel a lot better, but you know you’re not okay and you know it’s bad because you're admitting it. “I’m scared, Steve” you said quietly, he almost didn’t hear you. This was the first thing you’d said in at least 15 minutes.

“I-I know, I know you’re scared but that’s okay. No one can hurt you though, you’re safe here, in my arms. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. But it’s completely normal for you to feel scared. I’m gonna be right here to remind you that your safe everyday until you’re not scared anymore” he said and you took a deep, shaky breathing, moving so your forehead rested right against his chest.

“It feels…so stupid of me” you said, voice shaky, almost like you were gonna cry again. His heart broke and he said “don’t cry, precious. It’s not stupid. Anyone would feel this way, it’s not weird or wrong” “I’ve been through enough, this shouldn’t be such a big deal!” You said, fists clenching tighter.

He grabbed your hands, caressing your fingers. “You just escaped a very, very dangerous and harmful situation less than 48 hours ago. Don’t be upset at yourself for feeling, babe. It’s the most human experience that there is” he said and you sighed.

You looked up at him and said “it’s never been like this before” “because you’ve never let yourself be vulnerable. I told you I’d make you the happiest girl ever. Part of that means feeling all the bad stuff too, so you can be even happier” he said and you smiled sadly.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, wiping your tears away. You looked down at his shirt, wrinkles left where your hands were. He cupped your face in his warm hands and he saw the tension leave your body, muscles relaxing and unclenching from all the stress you’ve experienced.

“I hope you get used to this, cause you’re gonna go through a lot of bad feelings for a while. I’m not letting you run away from it anymore, especially not now” he said and you rolled your eyes. He smiled and said “now, eat your cold grilled cheese,”

You giggled and took a bite, playing with the sleeves of his shirt as he stared at you lovingly. You leaned your back against the bed, taking a deep breath. “Do you feel better?” He asked and you nodded.

He smiled even more, if that was possible, and it made you chuckle. He caressed your calf softly, taking a bite out of the sandwich he made you and then handing it over to you again.

“Love you, pretty girl” he said, his mouth still full. You smiled and said “I love you too” You were quiet, almost as if you wanted to make sure only he would be able to hear it. He kissed your knee, smiling up at you with those beautiful baby blue eyes.

Taglist: @kandis-mom @mrsevans90

As of now l'm writing for

Eddie Munson

Lo’ak

Neteyam

Sebastian Stan

Bucky Barnes

CW!Bucky Barnes

Chris Evans

Steve Rogers

Ari Levinson

Geralt of Rivia

Henry Cavill

So just comment the taglist you want to be added to and l'll add you :)

#mcu #marvel #avengers #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fluff #captain america

[qe-podfic]

@yetrop has created this SPECTACULAR illustration for Chapter 3

The LIGHTING? The POSES? I can FEEL the embarrassment! This is so gorgeous.

WE ARE STILL LOOKING FOR ARTISTS TO COLLABORATE!!

For more info, you can click here to see the original call out post.

The scene behind @yetrop's delicious artwork is under the cut:

He made it to the restaurant, a classy, hand-painted sign informing him that it was called ‘the Sable Nouveau’. Subscript under the building’s front-facing decal added that the place was ‘an innovative accomplishment of the notorious Dr Raven Sable’ whatever that meant. It was a looming glass structure, a postmodern parapet framing the building in black. The architecture combined brutalist form with glossy contemporary stylings. Beautiful but cold and uncomfortable. Aziraphale didn’t like it at all. It would be the kind of thing he’d point out to Crowley, tutting and shaking his head. Crowley would only grin and excuse the design as minimalist. But secretly, he’d agree; Crowley liked eco-brutalism, not brutalism-brutalism.

That was enough thinking about Crowley! Aziraphale was here to get over that whole predicament. It wouldn’t do to dwell on the one thought that he was trying to escape from.

“Table for Muscas?” he asked the critical woman at the front desk. She appraised him briefly before nodding and leading him to a corner booth. His date was already there, it seemed. Aziraphale took a moment to inspect him from behind; he was slim, in a black suit-type-thing, a waterfall of red hair—oh. Oh no. Oh, no no no. This was the worst outcome; so bad he hadn’t even dignified it as one of the options. Crowley was here. Crowley was his blind date. Crowley was B’s friend. B’s friend who—he realised quite suddenly—was trying to get over someone. Who?! When? Why? And why had he never mentioned anything to Aziraphale? And—even more importantly—who? No, really, who?!

“Uh—” came the dissonant sound from Aziraphale’s throat. Having alerted Crowley to his presence, he sat down opposite him. Bashful, but stiff upper lip and all that.

“Ngk—Beelzebub!” Crowley groaned—and that’s what the B stood for!—putting his head in his hands. Aziraphale pitied him; it wasn’t a fun situation, accidentally being set up on a blind date with your co-author. He would know. He was currently having the exact same experience.

“I’m guessing you’re B’s friend, then,” Aziraphale grimaced sympathetically. This didn’t have to be awkward; they were pals. They could endure a platonic dinner together without making anything weird. It wasn’t that far off from what they usually did.

“And you’re Gabriel’s brother.” The words were disappointed.

Crowley’s eyes had a panicked sheen; he looked almost trapped. In the corner booth of a classy restaurant, he rather made the image of a frightened dog pressing themselves to the back of the cage at the pound. Knowing what he knew, Aziraphale was commiserative. Crowley had come here to get over someone—‘Who, though?’ his mind roared, he ignored it—and instead of a suave first-date ready to beguile him beyond the thought of whoever-it-was, there was only Aziraphale, his frumpish co-author, to greet him. Aziraphale would be disappointed too.

“Well, this is suitably awkward,” he sighed regretfully.

“It was my fault for trusting Beez after a fight. I forget how spiteful they are, sometimes. I’m sorry, Angel. They were being mean. Beez is still under the impression I have the same romantic tastes that I did at seventeen. You—uh—don’t really fall into that category,” Crowley explained apologetically, looking rather defeated. Aziraphale almost flinched at the admission. It was a stinging blow, to have the very notion that he might have—at some point—been Crowley’s type so utterly decimated. 

“I wouldn’t assume so, no,” he winced with a self-deprecating wilt. Crowley’s eyes widened as he played back the implications of what he had said, hissing at himself despairingly.

“Not to say that you aren’t—I mean, now it’s… Well, not to say that you are either—” He tied himself into verbal knots, flustered and consoling in equal measure.

“You don’t have to spare my feelings, dear. We’d look an odd couple, if we were together. You in all your leather and me in all my hand-knit sweaters. Odd socks, the two of us.” Aziraphale regarded him with a kind smile, picking up the menu and bemoaning its contents. Never trust Gabriel to pick out a sensible—or even edible—restaurant.

“Odd socks,” repeated Crowley, hoarse.

Aziraphale hummed noncommittally, continuing to search the menu for something palatable; anything that wasn’t a new-age reduction, or an experimental reimagining, or whatever other sacrilegious culinary blasphemy was going on behind the kitchen walls of the Sable Nouveau. Even a humble grilled cheese would have sufficed. But no, the arrogance of fine dining didn’t allow space for something so simple.

“What are you having?” Aziraphale asked, hoping that Crowley had found some hidden gem.

“Dunno, it’s all rather—” Crowley gestured vaguely. Aziraphale agreed.

“It is, isn’t it? Would it be too terribly rude if we—” he gestured vaguely in return, unwilling to voice the sentiment without the full support of his dining partner. Crowley raised his eyebrows, his first grin of the night like the sun at dawn.

“What? Ignored the fancy reservation and instead went to the tapas place across the road from my apartment?” He was snickering, leaning in conspiratorially. Aziraphale’s answering nose scrunch (Aziraphale could communicate a lot with a nose scrunch; for instance, right now his nose scrunch was saying ‘it sounds bad when you put it like that but yes, that’s exactly what I want’) made him snort gracelessly.

“Is it rude?” he pondered to himself, “Undoubtedly.”

“Would it be more enjoyable than eating—” he scoured the menu for something suitably ridiculous, “—‘de jaeger with fermented durian foam’ in a building that looks like it was designed as a prison set for a Dr Who villain?” Pausing just long enough to let the description sink in, Crowley pretended to consider it.

“I think it would be, yeah,” he finished, standing up from his seat and inviting Aziraphale to do the same. Gabriel would understand. They’d never agreed on culinary decisions as kids, either.

Together, they exited the Sable Nouveau, much to the disgruntlement of their server; a sententious little man with a pencil-thin moustache and the permanent expression of someone who had just whiffed a jar of rotten eggs. (Considering the menu, it wasn't out of the question.) He had been trying to find a polite interlude—staff at the Sable Nouveau knew better than to interrupt an awkward moment—in which he could ask for their orders and or offer them a bottle of wine. Six paces from their table—as was his training; close enough to attend, far enough to slink into the background—he watched them scutter away. If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. Or maybe it just blended seamlessly into his general air of disapproval, unnoticed like salt-water in the ocean.

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AO3

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #art #fanfiction #ao3 #fanfic #drawing #fanart #ineffable spouses #ineffable husbands fic rec #ineffable idiots #ineffable partners #gomens #aziracrow #good omens fanart #anthony j crowley #aj crowley #quantum entangled #azicrow #podfic #archive of our own #good omens brainrot #good omens memes #good omens shitpost

[utilitycaster]

I will say the current discourse becomes a lot funnier when you remember that Imogen suggested to and in front of Laudna (she did it more than once!) potentially siding the Vanguard AFTER one of them murdered her in cold blood just to get a rise out of Imogen -

- and *somehow* that hasn’t had the lasting impact on fandom that Orym fucking nodding at Laudna as she kills someone who just tried to murder them has?

Truly, bowlgate could *never*.

Hey anon,

Honestly while this is all very speculative and based on the relatively small cross-section of the fandom I see, as a person who will not touch Reddit and barely checks Twitter, the Orym and Laudna stuff feels cut from the same cloth as Bowlgate.

For reasons I cannot accurately pinpoint, though I have my theories, since I started watching and joined the fandom with the start of C2 there seem to have been people - maybe the same people, maybe there's been turnover - who have decided any interaction Marisha and Liam's characters have that isn't clearly entirely amicable (and some that are) is in fact an act of hostility. This has always baffled me, given that in Campaigns 1 and 2 they played characters who are particularly close, and that in Campaign 3 Liam's character is very much in homage to Keyleth. Insofarasmuch as I know the lives of the cast (ie, I don't), they seem to be extremely good friends, and from what I see at the table they have remarkably similar styles, a shared love of character conflict, and excellent chemistry (platonic or romantic). It has never made sense to me how intensely some people pit them against each other, either as Beau and Caleb or as Laudna and Orym, particularly when Marisha and Liam have never seemed to have even an ounce of rancor towards each other.

It feels very much born out of the "the only way to be a good character (or fan) is to be entirely deferential to my personal favorite character" mentality, and I've always found that mentality to be...deeply sad, honestly. I've said before that it baffles me that people watch a show with an ensemble cast of 7 players and act repulsed and offended when it's not a solo act. And for a fandom for a show where we just, demonstrably, treated a 3.5 hour episode as "unexpectedly short?" That is a huge amount of time to sink into something where you are miserable every minute that Laudna, or Marisha (or whoever your favorite character or actor is) isn't in the spotlight and leading the charge and given the royal treatment - let alone to watch CR with what appears to be an assumption that nearly everyone else at the table is actively out to undermine your favorite actor. That sounds exhausting and painful, and once I started thinking about that it made much more sense how vile and bitter these comments about an extremely mild choice from Liam and Orym is; because it's not really about Orym. It's about the nature of the show itself, which has always been the case and is unlikely to change. It might be other long-untended resentments as well. I'm reminded, tangentially, of how when I was frustrated with FCG as a character early on, I'd occasionally get people piling on in my inbox for utterly unrelated criticisms not of FCG but of Sam as a player that I found really offputting and which often made me pretty uncomfortable.

I do wonder if these people are not just upset that Orym (and Liam) are simply present; but if they are also frustrated with other things - perhaps with the campaign generally, or perhaps with Laudna herself - that they are afraid to admit they feel given how much they have staked their identity on their fandom preferences. Which again, sounds terribly lonely and draining and something to be pitied, irritating as it is for the rest of us.

Anyway, I think the best thing for everyone in the fandom not trapped in that particular mire of bad faith, cognitive dissonance, and curdled resentment to do is move on. I actually found it really heartening how many people on my post about Laudna's anger at Orym being entirely about the power from the siphon and nothing personal to Orym were like "until I saw this post it did not even occur to me that there was another interpretation of this scene." I certainly haven't been as good about this as I'd like to be, but I've really been trying as of late to approach the above paranoid reading mentality by depriving it of oxygen. In addition to the interesting conflicts brewing, there's been some great lore drops as of late. How about that portal?

#answered #Anonymous #cr spoilers #long post

[lusi-raul]

My thoughts on JuanaFlippa’s return today:

(Warning: very long and delusional post)

Everyone is theorizing that Flippa is a binary code and I understand why. But I still hold on to my original theory that the eggs NEVER died. As long as the federation has no explanation for how the parents can say their final goodbyes to the “dead” eggs. I still stand by the theory that the original eggs are alive and kept by the federation. At the very least the federation has the capability to reanimate or clone the eggs but it’s more likely that they were revived because I think they have an infinite amount lives like the members, just a limited amount of lives where they can be left with their parents before they are taken away. No one really ever saw the eggs dead for the last time. All they saw was their egg being enclosed inside a wall. Only Bobby has a halo on his head but still, was he a ghost then?

Now, is the cracked Juanaflippa the same Juanaflippa we all know and loved? Improbable due multiple instances during their meeting

Didn’t backflip immediately when Slime asks if she’s been doing flips. The first thing Flippa would’ve done in that situation was do a flip.

Code-like writing style

Unusual cracks that are identical to Dapper’s

Oak signs instead of Birch signs

JuanaFlippa still being dead on the eggstatistics

Even with that egg being a code, there’s still a chance the real Flippa is alive and with the sweeping edge bug being known, this is a good potential lore arc to excuse the deaths of Flippa and Tilin and officially have them back. I also believe (since I’m delusional) that there’s a sliver of chance that this egg today can be the real Flippa. In the coming days maybe this egg can prove this by showing us things that only the real Flippa would’ve known. Flippa was a vegan, she loves backflips, she was originally named Frontflipo/JuanFlipo, her favorite color is blue. She is a witness to Slimariana’s misclick incident on Leo’s bed by faking her own drowning. Not many people know that, I think. The farm that the family of three made for Badboyhalo to atone for their sins and for an extra life for her. The first thing her parents ever taught her was to water bucket jump from a very high wall without armor. I’m very much delulu so even if one of these things Flippa remembers, i don’t care. She’s the real Flippa, the one and only.

The crack can be justified in my theory because if the eggs got cracked by the federation, what makes them stop doing whatever the hell they did on the alive eggs to the “dead” eggs that they already have? (According to my theory that eggs aren’t really dead at all). The eggs came back with memory loss. What if their memory from the kidnapping got wiped because they saw their supposed “dead” siblings there?

There’s also a weird theory I have with Flippa’s writing but bear in mind that I’m probably just losing it at this point but you know how maybe the federation has an advance surveillance system in place where Flippa just wants to avoid being detected and has to replace certain letters with symbols and numbers? On dapper’s book, the letter ‘a’ is replaced by the number ‘4’ but on Flippa’s it is replaced with an ‘@‘. The only numbers and symbols she used were 0,1,3, !,@. Idk how significant those specific symbols are but we do it too sometimes to avoid word detection and censorship. If she’s in hiding, and says it isn’t safe for her out there, maybe she did escape and is being so cautious with her words that she talks in a limited and cryptic fashion. If this is true it’s heartbreaking that the only thing she said over and over again was that she loves her dad and misses him. Like she has so many things to say, but she has to be cautious that all she can say are those.

Also it took the codes days of lurking around eggs with a camera in order to impersonate them. Where would the code have gotten information about Flippa when she doesn’t even have a proper bed grave.

I also think whoever led Charlie to Flippa isn’t with the Federation at all. The treasure hunt were white boxes on slime blocks. The chest with the book were on black blocks. It’s about time an anti-federation entity/organization on the same level of the federation reveals themselves.

All in all even if this egg is a code, the real one is very much alive in my heart. They just need to be given back by the federation. They never truly died. If it is revealed that this egg is just impersonating Flippa, then be it. At least we got to witness Slime being a dad again. But really if the qsmp team did this elaborate lore to excuse the death of Flippa and Tilin due to unfair death. Applause to them. I understand why they can’t just give their lives back. That incident happened too long ago but if they can make it happen but just needs to make it make sense lore-wise then I really hope they make it happen.

But really just seeing Flippa back like this, I’m satisfied already. The way the qsmp team had me on the edge of my seat today and had me looking forward to what’s gonna happen next: 👏 👏 👏

#qsmp #qsmp eggs #slimecicle qsmp #qsmp juanaflippa #charlie slimecicle #qsmp theories #qsmp lore #qsmpblr #qsmp theory #juanaflippa #q!juanaflippa #q!slimecicle #q!charlie

[changingplumbob]

Random Ramblings

If this is somehow even more long winded than I normally am (yeah it's long), it's because I'm going through an IBS flare up that is kicking my butt.

BUT I wanted to get my thoughts out about some of my content warnings, because I'm very tired and have been shoving the same one in front of my Reece/Samir parts even if they might not reflect that particular part because I'm too tired to judge how spicy warrants a spice warning.

Where to start... If you haven't figured it out, all my grown sims are currently woohoo positive, as in they do not think that how much woohoo a sim does or does not have dictates how "good" a person is. Why? Because whoever made sex synonymous with shame is stupid and has ruined many a life (it was probably a dude, no offense dudes out there).

While I don't currently have any sims that are asexual, not all my sims feel the same about woohoo.

For example Charlie and Kaori would choose a good chat over woohoo most times. Not because they don't love each other, or are averse to woohoo, but because that's who they are together. Most days they tire themselves out as athletes and prefer to relax together

Cassandra and Rahul on the other hand love to have woohoo, particularly unprotected, three kids and still not done

Keira, who rolled the soulmate aspiration, chose to wait before she had woohoo. Her high school girlfriend (Morgan Fryes) cheated on her because she wouldn't woohoo. Even after meeting Marta (her now fiance) she wanted to wait until she felt comfortable being vulnerable around her.

Then of course we have my superstar Joey who is aromantic but allosexual (a mod did that, I didn't choose it). As soon as he became a YA he got a fwb. His philosophy is basically, oh she identifies as she? Can I hit it? I love you Joey that's why I call you a slut

Normally I just chuck up a sim spice warning if there are some screenshots taken during woohoo. Me being me, I don't feel like including pixel private parts in my published posts. Kudos to all you who do, it's just not my style. It's also rare that I'll write about anything that happens during a woohoo session, mostly I'll just write some foreplay then say it happened. That said, I do like to chuck in innuendo here and there if it feels like something my sims would say (any other writers feel like they know exactly what their sims would say at times?). I'm also not in a hurry to be classified as a mature blog, purely because that doesn't fit like 95% of my gameplay. Yes, I use wicked whims for my gameplay, but that doesn't mean I'm going to show you Luna being a lowkey pillow princess... shut up brain you can't just say that

Finally, on to my babies Reece and Samir. If there are spectrum's they are at the extreme end (also in my country the age of consent is 16 so any hijinks they get up before Reece turns 18 isn't percieved as illegal here). They both enjoy woohoo, like a lot a lot. Probably didn't help that there rotation had love day in it but they both also have high woohoo drives. They were flirty most of the time, so what would they do in that state? Sweet talk each other of course.

Now, if you weren't aware and you probably weren't cause it's been ages since their last rotation Reece and Samir also have a dynamic my other sims don't. Although on reflection Bob and Eliza have it as well, just to a lesser extent. Reece, chatterbox ego that he is, is a submissive. Samir, who barely says more than a sentence to anyone but Reece, is a dominant. When together they'll often lean into these roles, using both innuendo and statements of things their partner does that they're in to. Some people would probably label things that even use those words as mature, but it's a dynamic that exists people.

Now their chapter isn't me suddenly switching to speaking in 100% innuendo, but it has more than my average writing, at least for the first half you'll understand later if you read hence the sim spice warning. Looking back on it the chapter does not contain any screenshots mid woohoo, but the dialogue makes me want to put a disclosure above the cut, since I'm still not sure of all the rules around here, and my IBS is making it hard to focus right now.

Woohoo talk done? It's done! That's what she said... shut up brain, we're not twelve!

The other warning is about sim death. No one dies in the chapter but it deals with figuring out what happened to Samir's birth parents. Previously it's been established they were killed when he was 5 but the chapter and my Samir flashback pov short bit that I am low key proud of does involve mention of blood, death, dying etc. Me being me, I do not include any screenshots of dead, dying or seriously bleeding sims, it's not my aesthetic (don't act as though you don't love playing Until Dawn, the Quarry and The Dark Pictures Anthology which is full of gore... okay yes but gore does make me queasy for the most part, could never ever watch a saw film) and things aren't described in explicit detail. But death is death and grief is complex. It can hit you at unexpected times in unexpected ways.

So why am I bothering to put content warnings at all? Still sounds pretty tame. Yeah, probably, but as mentioned, I still don't know all the rules around here. Plus I would choose for someone to not read my story and avoid seeing something that upset them, than have someone grieving a loss see my dead sims bodies on their dash because I tagged it Sims4 every time. So if you see a content warning on my post, it most often just means viewer discretion advised. Not that you'll click and get flashed by my sims.

#upcoming #but not the next family #wow #This is longer than intended #Thanks for coming to my ted talk #but these thoughts have been in my head as I write #ramble ramble ramble #Is it time for more painkillers yet #oh nearly #Hoorah #Cramps are killing me right now #sims 4 #the sims 4 #the sims #Guess if this gets labelled as mature then I'll know right

[sam-glade]

Reducing verbosity, improving clarity

Part 3/3 of my editing process. Part 1 link. Part 2 link.

This is what I do to a novel or a novella before showing it to anyone (including beta readers). I’m posting it in hopes that it will help someone, and I’m not expecting it to work for everyone. Take any parts that help you!

The goal of this step is to make the style more crisp and direct. If you're going for a slow or very poetic style, this may not be as applicable.

Two things up front:

‘Imperfect’ doesn’t mean ‘bad’. Good writing can have imperfections.

The goal is to get the manuscript to a stage where the imperfections won’t be distracting to beta readers.

The idea is to convey the maximum amount of meaning in the minimum number of words. Be as specific as you can.

Large paragraphs

I go over the manuscript and compare the size of paragraphs. If they look close to square on a laptop screen, I’ll see what I can do about them. I personally don’t mind a paragraph of description or exposition, but the one rule I adhere to is that it must be immediately connected to what the character is thinking, feeling, or talking about. 

E.g. I need to give a description of the uniform most of my characters wear.

‘So he sat there in the ashen coatee with white facings, unbuttoned to reveal a white waistcoat, both creased after a long day. Little swords on his shoulder straps signified his division, and three stripes on the buttons of his jacket marked him as a sergeant. His long slim Sword was at his side — not as slim as a rapier, and with only a simple cross-guard over the grip. And yes, it looked more silvery than cold iron should, and it glowed faintly in the dark, but when it was sheathed, it looked very ordinary. I’m just a simple Sword, Ianim’s appearance said. Move along; there’s nothing interesting about me.’ → I deliberately highlight the details about the weapon that are out of ordinary, AND explain how Ianim feels about the outfit.

If it doesn’t do that at the end, and is still long, it needs to be shortened or tied into the current situation.

Laundry list of actions

Here, I’m looking for paragraphs that list a handful of actions, without any introspection or description. It usually means I’m spelling out every little action, when the reader will fill in the blanks easily if I remove a good portion of them. It’s things like ‘looked around and located X’ or ‘walked across the room’.

E.g. ‘He rolled his eyes around, trying to locate whoever was speaking. He felt a faint touch on his left shoulder and twitched, promptly hissing in pain. The hand was withdrawn. He gathered his strength and turned his head in that direction.’ → I don’t lose anything by cutting the first sentence. In fact, it works better without a convoluted description of looking around.

Too many clauses

Another kind of sentence that I come across in my drafts is of the form ‘Something was X and Y happened to it’, which can be rephrased as a single clause.

E.g. ‘The roof had collapsed in one corner, and water dripped through it.’ → ‘Water dripped through a hole in the corner of the roof.’

E.g. ‘Once Master Varré had returned and deposited the supplies in the kitchen, the four of them sat down to a simple meal.’ → ‘Once Master Varré had deposited the supplies in the kitchen…’

Reiterating spoken words with actions

I want my dialogue and action tags to add something new to what’s said, not reiterate it. I look for actions like ‘sighed’, ‘frowned’, ‘nodded’, ‘shook their head’. I’m NOT advocating for removing all of them by any means. They’re sometimes needed to induce a pause in dialogue, and are slightly better than saying ‘he paused’. Quite often, an ellipsis will work just as well.

Examples of reiterating dialogue:

“It’s taught in the second year of the cadet course, but…” He frowned. “I don’t see why not? → remove ‘He frowned’

Gullin nodded sharply. “Yes, ma’am.” → the line of dialogue can be cut.

“I can’t deny it. It is regrettable, but I don’t think I can deny it.” He sighed. “I wish it wasn’t the case though.” → remove the dialogue tag. Yes, when I read this sentence, I instinctively hear a sigh there, but nothing hinges on it being there, and removing it doesn’t mess up the rhythm.

“Do you not want to take it outside, sir?” Gullin checked. Master Varré thought about it, but shook their head. “Not necessary. We are not going to release our Swords.” → remove ‘not necessary’

Dialogue thing that I do

On a similar dialogue-related note: as I write I ‘hear’ the words spoken in the character’s voice in my head. As a result, I VERY often end up with dialogue, where the action in the tag is performed by a character other than the one who’s speaking – usually to indicate a pause or a non-verbal reaction.

E.g. 

Master Varré sprang out of their chair and started pacing around the hall. Lissan watched them warily.

“We need evidence, solid evidence before we can mention this to anyone. No offence, kid, but your word won’t cut it.” Lissan nodded seriously; he’d expected nothing less. “I’m going to Redguard to check [their] records.”

→ This is spoken by Varré, not Lissan, though the action tag indicates something to the contrary. I need to add something like ‘they said’ to clarify it. 

Another dialogue thing that I do

A couple of my characters deliberately hide their emotions, and their reactions are measured. I tend to indicate it with phrases like ‘he allowed himself a sigh of relief’ or ‘he permitted himself a small smile’. Now, I want to bring it to the reader’s attention, when the character’s control is important in the scene – e.g. they’re keeping their cool during an argument, and allowing themselves a small smug smile when they come out on top. However, it’s not adding anything when their self-control doesn’t contribute to the conversation – which is most of the time. Even then, not every controlled reaction has to be preceded by a phrase like this; a few mentions are enough to establish the background tension, but soon it gets repetitive.

Hence, I’ll remove it:

Every time – in conversations where the characters can relax, e.g. when talking to their buddies at a pub.

Most of the time when the character’s self-control is important. I’d leave it in no more than half of the gestures (smiling, sighing, rolling shoulders, rubbing their eyes, etc.).

Thesaurusising/rephrasing

Especially in narration and in longer paragraphs, I find sentences of the form ‘they tended/liked/had a talent for doing X and Y’, where X and Y are close in meaning. I can remove one of them or replace them with a more generic word that covers both.

‘She had an incredible talent for reading hints between the lines and figuring out what was not said’ → Yes, that’s exactly what reading between the lines means. I’m removing the second clause.

Sometimes, especially in dialogue, I leave the rephrasing for dramatic effect, but only when I’m confident that it adds something.

E.g. “Because ever since I’ve met him, he wanted to be seen not as the Prince Successor, not as a grandson of the White Dragon, but a normal guy.” → this stays as is.

Describing the obvious

There’s usually no reason to describe something that the reader can reasonably assume to be the case. E.g. if you say it’s raining, you don’t need to follow it up by saying the clouds covered the sky.

UNLESS

The few exceptions I can think of:

One of my characters focuses on their surroundings to avoid doing something. E.g. they aren’t in a mood to talk and they let a conversation happen around them without listening, they focus on the chips in the walls or the grain of wood on the table.

When a character is bored or waiting for something, they might look around their surroundings. Adding descriptions to pass the time is often a good alternative to saying ‘they waited’.

When the ‘homely’ is surprising. E.g. the character has been on a run for a while, squatting in abandoned buildings or sleeping outdoors. When they finally get home, I’d elaborate on the comfort of it, to pull the reader out of the default atmosphere of the last few chapters.

I still consider these tricks to be exceptions to the rules – best used sparingly.

#editing #writing #writing tips #writing advice #novel writing #creative writing #writeblr #writeblr community #writers of tumblr #writing resources

[yujeong]

(My) Top 5 VegasPete scenes

Listen. Listen. I'm surely not being original here. I'm certain this post has been made before, especially closer to the show airing, but I wasn't here then, and the spoons for such a post came right now, so I'm doing it now. Now, a warning: my choices will make you question my sanity. They will make you wonder wtf is wrong with me for *not* including specific scenes. They will make you question my VP taste in general. I know, I do too all the time, but the thing is, I have *reasons* for every single one being here and I will thoroughly explain, and if you're still baffled, I get it, I am too, but the brainrot works in mysterious ways. So, let's go (very long post incoming):

No5: The pool scene - Episode 14

LOOK, I COULDN'T NOT INCLUDE THIS SCENE OK? I'M NOT THAT STUPID (Pls don't kill me for not putting it higher, I know, it's a crime, I know-). Fun fact: I had seen a screenshot of the point in which Pete says he's hungry, before watching the VP arc, and I deadass thought it was fan subtitles, like a joke, a meme, SOMETHING other than what he ACTUALLY said. It was very funny when I found out the truth. God, this scene is heart-wrenching for all the right reasons. It had everything I could ever ask for and more I didn't even know I needed. I think my No1 reason for loving this scene so much is Pete's desperation to save Vegas and all the ways he showed it. To explain, we have: - him coming to find Vegas after resigning from the main family to be with him, - him being physically intimate for the very first time to such a degree (he fucking hugged Vegas from behind, I lost my marbles when I saw it), - him trying so fucking hard to say "I love you" without saying it, because he can't, it's not sth he can say, but holy fuck will he show in SOME way, - him saying he's Vegas' pet while dying a bit inside but it's necessary goddammit, Vegas won't get it otherwise, he won't understand that Pete *needs* him, - him killing the guy who shot Vegas without hesitation. I wholeheartedly believe he'd kill whoever that person was, even Korn himself, and I love it. ALSO, can we talk about the fact that the scene was dead silent, no music, nothing during their talk, then when hope is on the horizon a soft melody plays and then BOOM, Ink comes just as Vegas gets shot and you feel like YOU got shot along with him. I love the title of the piece, and I love how it gives me goosebumps every single time I hear it, and I love how *tragic* it is, because what we're witnessing is a tragedy, and would remain a tragedy if the hospital scene didn't exist. 10/10 writing, I can't believe this scene is real, I can't believe how lucky we are to have witnessed such a moment.

No4: Vegas hits Pete with the belt + tasers him when he escapes + finds him unconscious later - Episode 11

I am aware that I'm cheating with the last scene but I love it a little too much and it's the continuation of the previous one so I'll add it in. Ok, firstly, I had to include the scene which inspired me to write my first ever meta post in here, guys, it was essential. Furthermore, one thing you should know about me is that I love - what I like to call - "pre-VP VP", meaning VP interactions up to ep 11 (which is my favorite episode, you'll figure out why as we move through the list). It had everything; it had Pete refusing to eat, throwing his philosophy at Vegas' face, it had Vegas lashing out at Pete in a way he didn't even enjoy (he started shouting as he was hitting him to convince himself he was enjoying this but he wasn't, I'm biting my FIST here), we had Pete using the belt to escape, only for Vegas, the fucking SLUT with the loose shirt showing off his TITS, to follow him outside, we had the tasing and the catching and the soft handling of Pete's body as he fell (he totally carried him back bridal style), we had Vegas believing Pete would laugh at him for what his father did (oh Vegas you moron, he would never laugh at you, if only you saw his face when Gun slapped you), we had Vegas freaking the fuck out at a non-responsive Pete, we had it all folks. I've watched these scenes more times than I can count, they're fucking glorious. And the music too, oh God the music. You'll see me scream about the music a lot here, because it's one of the deciding factors in my preferences, so I have to mention it, just as I did for No5. Unfortunately, Shazam hasn't helped me find the first two pieces used in the scene (when Pete is hit with the belt and when he uses it to escape) but I know of the other two, which are Lost Register and Walking the Distance, which are such perfect titles for Vegas, aren't they? I don't have any intelligent things to say about these scenes, I just love them so fucking much, even though Vegas hitting Pete with the belt makes me flinch, even though Pete gets the worst treatment here (minus the ball roasting I guess), I love them so much, because it's the limit that Vegas surpasses, and the realization he did so was incredibly enjoyable to watch.

No3: Vegas tortures Pete - Episodes 10-11

Yes, I did cheat again but technically the two scenes happen back to back on the same day (it's not the same day, Vegas is wearing a different shirt, but we'll pretend it is okay?) and yes, I did put only Pete screenshots here, look at my name, what do you want from me? When I said I have a deep fascination with "pre-VP VP", this is what I mean people. These two scenes solidified my obsession with this specific dynamic of theirs. Pete was so fucking unhinged and it was the most beautiful thing I have laid my eyes upon. There are too many things to mention, I adore them so much. We have Pete not speaking a single line of dialogue during the scene in ep 10, we have ep 11 and Vegas changing his approach, touching Pete in a sexual way which unnerves Pete but he's still not lost complete control, we have Gun hitting Vegas in front of Pete, with Pete putting the pieces together, we have the fucking phone call to his grandma, which is the thing that makes Pete give up and it's wonderful, because after that we have Pete screaming - I love his screams, I've listened to them on repeat, I have issues - and trembling with pure rage as Vegas toys with him. I've watched these two scenes, both for fic purposes and for my own enjoyment, probably more than 30 times at this point and I loved every single one of them. Btw, can we pay attention to the fact that the sneaky bastards over at BOC put a slight variation of Stable Delusion during the moment in which Vegas puts his hand inside Pete's underwear? Because I noticed, and I hope you did too. A lot of VP fans said they truly noticed Pete here, which is fair tbh, even though I was a big fan of his from the start. He truly shines in these scenes and seeing this side of him is delicious every single time.

No2: Pete's breakdown - Episode 13

Fuck my whole existence, what am I supposed to even say here? How am I even supposed to touch upon this scene without losing my mind? How do I explain what this scene did to my brain when I watched it, and kept watching it, and never stopped watching it because it's so fucking important to me? Pff, whatever, let me try. I'll mostly use the music playing throughout the scene to help me describe my feelings about it. The scene basically starts with both Vegas and Pete being lost and miserable, each one for different but interlaying reasons. The music accompanying the scene is called Unspoken, because neither can really say outright what's bothering them, because they're hanging by a thread and it's so, so good. It's heavy and painful and it creates this uneasy feeling in your stomach, accompanied by the visuals. It goes on, until it stops, right as Vegas says "Isn't my fucking life like this because of them?", because of course it does, Vegas is one second away from snapping at Pete, but Pete doesn't hesitate, he says to Vegas the harsh truth: "It's your choice." And then, Vegas drops the noodles - Pete's food, Pete's nourishment - on the floor, and the music playing is called Calculating Catastrophe, which I *only just discovered* and I want to pull my hair out. The dream is gone, no more afterglow, only misery, because Vegas can't handle the truth, because Pete can't handle the lie, because it's all crushing down and Pete can do nothing about it but accept it, accept Vegas' cruelty, accept the knife in his throat. He's waiting to die, he says it, he grabs Vegas' wrist and then, only when he says he doesn't even have his humanity left, does the music resume playing, the OST called This Creed, just as Pete tells Vegas - tells us, the audience - what his "set of beliefs which guide his actions" is, and both Vegas and us watching are dumbfounded, we're as scared for what Pete might do as Vegas is, and it's so painful and so beautiful to witness. The music stops again as Vegas says "No" to Pete being just a pet, and both him and us are breathing a hesitant shy of relief, only for Pete to snap again, to scream at Vegas while showing his handcuffed wrist, to ask "what the fuck is this then?" and the music playing compliments this moment brilliantly, because it's called Absent Cognition and it's a 10/10 fit. And the most brilliant thing here is how they're BOTH HAVING A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT CONVERSATION. They're talking past each other and Pete knows, he knows Vegas is stuck on his delusions because he can't do otherwise, he can't, it'll destroy him, but Pete himself also can't do this anymore, he can't stay, he has to go, "I'm sorry, Vegas, I'm sorry" (relevant post to this point specifically because I have lost my mind over it in the past). God, this scene is sosososososo good and so them, and I can't stop watching it, I can't get it out of my head. It's utterly stunning and I love it.

No1: The pill kiss/VP's talk - Episode 11

Ok. I am not normal when it comes to this scene. I have based my entire fucking personality around it since 2022. It makes me emotional every time I rewatch it, it gives me goosebumps just remembering its existence. It's because this scene is the shift in their relationship. It's them finally looking at each other in the eye and truly seeing each other. It's a promise in the shape of a pill, it's a revelation, it's rebirth. Vegas being gentle with Pete for the first time shifted something in me, as it did in Pete himself. Vegas is fighting it a bit at first; he says "Take it" to Pete harshly, demanding Pete take the pill, but when Pete rejects him, his tone gets softer. It almost sounds like begging to me and it's so powerful. Oh Bible, the delivery of some lines feel like a slap across the face, thank you. Little House on the Hill starts playing as Vegas lowers his body and puts the pill into Pete's mouth through a kiss. Even the title of the song is softer, their own little world in a little house, as they're coming closer through a promise that ended up not being kept: I can be gentle with you too. Please take the nourishment I'm giving you. And then he gets up, and sits on the floor, and the show literally gives us VP being on equal ground for the first time, truly equal: both battered and broken and looking at each other. And they talk, and Vegas starts opening up already after Pete asks him what happened, and then A Sky Sparkling starts playing as Pete talks to Vegas about his childhood, about how his father beat him up for losing, and then for winning, and I'm a sobbing mess on the floor at this point. (A Sky Sparkling = Vegas' worldview changing, gaining light, a new perspective. Fuck the titles of these songs have ruined me.) You'd think I'd have the most words about my all-time favorite VP scene, but I'm afraid that's not the case. I'm speechless. It'd given me such a visceral reaction that I simply don't know how to explain myself anymore. All I know is that I'll never get tired of watching it, of thinking about it, of analyzing it in my head. It's everything to me. I love VegasPete so much. At the end of this super long post, that's all I can say.

#this post made me want to do a Top5 Pete scenes too #VP scenes not included #(because obv the Pete moments in those VP scenes are one of the main reasons I chose the scenes I did here) #I'm a simple girl I have biases ok? #but yeah I'll think about it #as for VP #pls don't kill me I know I left out some very important scenes of them #the Hum Bar scene the garage scene the NC scene etc etc #but while they're also deeply important scenes and I love them they don't hit as hard as those I included here #hence me excluding them #but it's ok it's VP I can't not love every single moment we got of them together #it's not like they had hours of screentime lmao #*cries* #kinnporche the series #vegaspete #pete saengtham #vegas theerapanyakul