#I’ve thought about writing a short story or something along the lines of this concept but I feel like surely someone has done it already | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

algebraicpizza · 2 years

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I dunno what to post on tumblr yet so I’m just gonna write about my favorite games

There’s a reason I’m posting this, but I’ll get to that at the end. Formally, I consider this my top 10 games, despite the fact that there are more than 10 in it.

1. Celeste. What can I even say? This is a single player game that, while filled with content, I’ve still put way more hours into than I should have, short only of speedrunner numbers. The gameplay feels perfect and the level design is legendary. So many other platformers might be comparably difficult, but the physics just don’t feel how I want them to feel. Multiple times, I thought I was done with the game... only to return to grind for more deathless levels, because I just love playing it so much. I’m not normally someone who plays mods, as I like to move on to the next experience. Celeste changed that. And I haven’t even gotten to the story. It’s such a relatable yet powerful experience of overcoming mental hurdles that has genuinely helped me become a strong person. Along with tying into the feeling of the gameplay perfectly.

2. Outer Wilds. Again, I feel ill-equipped to even talk about this game, for how much is genius about it. The insane thing is that in concept alone, it’s already revolutionary, and yet it still goes above and beyond in the execution. There are a thousand different angles to take on its beauty. The interconnected lore of its world, how coming to understand the world doesn’t complement the gameplay but is the gameplay. How you can’t draw lines between the worldbuilding and the puzzle-solving and the story progression and the navigation because all those things are united as one. I’ll never forget how playing this felt, especially as I did so with one of my best friends.

3. Disco Elysium. I like to sum it up this way: How many games can you say have fantastic prose? I don’t think DE is the only one, but it might be the best. A trend in my favorite games is that a lot of them use the medium creatively, to varying extents. Not all of them are meta (though they’re coming up), but they do something, even if it’s as simple as Celeste tying in the feeling of the gameplay and story well, or Outer Wilds innovating what can be done in the medium. What Disco Elysium does is tie the way you make dialogue choices and define an rpg character in with the main character’s struggles. In processing his amnesia, your choices as a player define the way he tries to reinvent himself while still remaining in-character by nature. I’ve rambled upon this one aspect, but the game’s writing is incredible, from the deep character study to the insane political worldbuilding. This is the only game I’ve played where talking to NPCs feels like talking to real people, simply because the depth of how long and nuanced conversations can go. Most of these games don’t really have writing to match the best novels, because they don’t need to, as they use the medium of games to convey depth in other ways. Disco Elysium says fuck it and does classic novel-quality things anyway.

4. The Beginner’s Guide. It’s a walking sim. That might trick you into thinking that it has to be a straightforward non-meta narrative. And that’s part of the beauty of it. The idea of meta has, in some people’s minds, been pigeonholed into games where the villain deletes the save file, where you mess around with the game files to beat the enemy, or where the game acknowledges the different choices you can make from an outside perspective. But The Beginner’s Guide shows there’s really no limit to the creative things you can do with meta storytelling. There are no choices or branching paths, but simply by being a game and presenting itself in a certain way, the game tricks you into coming into things with certain assumptions that could only be accomplished because it’s a game. You might wise up to what it’s doing early on, but that doesn’t matter, because it has so many twists to throw at you that make it one of the most thematically nuanced things I’ve experienced. It’s been analyzed by smarter people than me so I won’t say much, but the game has so many interpretations that are simultaneously enlightening and foolish, and that’s genius.

5. Undertale. It’s crazy that it’s grown into such a massive beast that you might forget how incredible the base game is. I don’t care about whatever hot takes people have about the fandom ruining something. I love this game. It’s filled with incredible humor, the choices are insane, and it’s made me so emotional I had to stop playing and disengage because of how overwhelmed I was. The narrative is elegantly constructed and builds up great twists, the characters are some of the most iconic ever. Lately, I keep thinking about how blessed we are that Toby Fox exists. Because god damn. Deltarune might end up on this list too, when complete.

I have to admit, I just crossed a threshold. Those top 5 games are different. They’ve stuck with me, changed my life. I constantly think back to how incredible it is that they exist at all, how blessed we are. The next games are a bit different to me. They’re great, but I wouldn’t put them on the same pedestal. Maybe they have comparatively good qualities but flaws that bother me more. Maybe they aren’t really that revolutionary, but just mean a lot to me. Either way, let’s get into it.

6. Chrono Trigger. I just hyped up how I was stepping down from revolutionary games, and then I name this classic? Suffice to say, it still blows me away. Chrono Trigger is another game that has, in so many ways, “correct” design, but still cares enough to push things further. The combat is the perfect example of how you don’t always need complexity — you just need mechanics that have inherently interesting decisions to make. The plot is genius in how well-constructed it is. I think a lot of people who haven’t tried writing might not realize how difficult and impressive it is to construct something that flows so naturally with perfect internal consistency. There’s always an interesting goal coming up, always something to aim for, and always something that will surprise you. And to this day I wish more games had battles simply take place where you find the enemies instead of having a scene transition away. I think the only reason this is as low on my list as it is is that my tastes have grown to find even more specific, unique experiences, compared to Chrono Trigger’s generalist quality.

7. Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Sky. Honestly, there was a time this was #1 on my list, and it’s still crazy to see it this far low down. I can’t fight against the flow of time. The game hasn’t aged perfectly. Way too much dialogue is overexplaining simple things to the player so kids will understand. And I can’t truly say the twists and reveals are the best ever post-Cosmere entering my life (and a lot more things). Still, the turns the story took is a big part of what defined my taste for those things. I love narratives that start simple only to gradually show you they can become so much more. Which applies to a lot of other games on my list. Stories that expand your perception of what the possibilities can even be. Also floating islands. Yeah, there’s a reason this game is a cult classic. It taps into something that sparks the imagination.

8. The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. Another game I’m shocked to put as low as I am. Yes, I admit it. This game is flawed. Sure is a lot of Discourse TM around that! Half of what people criticize about it I don’t give a shit about, and the other half I begrudgingly admit could be improved. That doesn’t change how enthralled I was about exploring this world. There’s something to be said about a game that makes the intrinsic fun so engaging that I don’t care about whatever extrinsic issues it has. The world design is like nothing else. Something about the look and shape of the landscape just tickles my brain and makes running around it and finding things immerse me in the world like nothing else. You can call it a copy of other open world games. I’d like to see any other open world game capture me like this. From the look of them, most won’t.

9. Bravely Second: End Layer. This is the most flawed game on my list by far, like holy shit there’s so much wrong with it, and I don’t CARE. I love the characters. I love Yew and Edea. I love the batshit plot twists it puts you through. I mean, talk about games that expand your perception of what is even possible! I love that the game trusts the player enough to hide foreshadowing in the silliest places. I love the combat system more than any other JRPG I’ve played. This is a flawed game, but god damn is it one with ambitious ideas.

10. Portal 2. Honestly, the game is fucking hilarious. The characters are great. The puzzles are fun. There’s not much to say about it beyond that. Valve, what happened to you...

11. Half-Life 2. You know, I’ll admit it. The story is nothing special. It’s fun and exciting but it’s not that deep and certainly not that experimental. But this makes it here from gameplay alone. I feel like this game ruined me. I see other shooters, with cover mechanics and aiming down sights, and I feel zero desire to play them, because the way it’s done here is, imo, exactly what it should be. The level design deserves mention as well, of course. It’s not like it’s the gunplay alone. Half-Life 2 flows, and that’s what makes it something I’ve replayed so many times.

12. Hollow Knight. There’s an element of spite here. I don’t think this game is perfect. I also can’t deny it a place in my top 10 list (ignore that there’s more than 10 here). But it gets the bottom spot. Yeah, I’ll nitpick the platforming mechanics and the pacing and the number of kinda mediocre bosses, but fuck it, it’s still an incredible world to explore with insanely fun combat and progression. Yeah, no shit, you all know Hollow Knight fucks.

Honorable mentions: Particle Fleet, for capturing the fun of the Creeper World series without the micromanagement. Divinity: Original Sin 2, for not having the best writing but having so many interesting encounters in one of my favorite combat systems ever. Ocarina of Time, because while I don’t think the traditional Zelda formula makes for the best games ever, it makes for damn good ones. Kentucky Route Zero, for being so deep and interesting that it probably deserves a spot on the top list, but I’m not smart enough to understand why yet. Ikenfell, for a great story and another of my favorite combat systems. OneShot, for the vibes, and for Niko. The Stanley Parable, for being funny and smart. Into the Breach, for the most elegant tactical design I’ve seen. Factorio, because even though I’ve only put 36 hours into it, I know that this could easily turn into thousands. It’s my alternate timeline favorite game. Sekiro, because Fromsoft finally made the game I wanted Dark Souls to be. Kirby and the Amazing Mirror, for doing things I wish Kirby would do again. The Messenger, which I haven’t finished yet as of right now, and though it probably won’t make it onto the main list, you never know. Kirby Air Ride, because that’s actually the greatest game of all time, I was just joking around with this list haha.

I’m mostly posting this so I can actually have it down as a concrete list, even if the placements will likely continue to vary. I think about this too much but never put it down in a place I’ll remember. But I’m also writing this to think about exactly what this list is because there’s such a strong chance it’s going to get shaken up soon.

2023 is coming, and holy shit. Earthblade? Silksong, potentially? Sea of Stars? Tears of the Kingdom? Who knows, maybe even a few more Deltarune chapters? Basically, 2023 is a year with the potential to completely shake up what I think of as my favorite games. I can’t wait. At least Davey Wreden’s next game will probably take longer than that. I can only handle so much.

#favorite games

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writingwithcolor · 3 years

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Argentine trans man with controlling parents; can I code them as Jewish?

@rcsordinaryworld asked:

The main character of a comic is an Argentine trans guy named Levi who ended up being somewhat Jewish coded. I’ve been debating whether to make it explicit, and I’m a little worried about his parents in particular. Part of his story is that he comes from an affluent family, and that his parents are somewhat toxic if not abusive. They’re funding college + transition for him, but on the condition he does what they want him to do. While he himself is a fairly good person, I’m worried about his mother perpetuating antisemitic tropes because she’s pretty manipulative and overbearing and finances are tied into it. Most of my characters are queer with bad parents, but I was wondering how I could handle his backstory respectfully if I did commit to making him Jewish?

If you are Jewish, disregard this part, because you are allowed to write your own experiences: If you’re writing us from the outside what is your motivation for making him Jewish in the first place? Because, yeah, I understand where you’re coming from that this might be messy. The experiences of a Jewish trans man with an unpleasant mother might be something highly specific that even a gentile trans man author with an unpleasant mother wouldn’t be able to capture accurately, or without accidentally stepping into stereotypes.

I understand that writing about queer characters with bad parents puts you in a bind vis a vis marginalized ethnic groups, because it’s tricky to write that setup from the outside of the group without accidentally sounding like a critique of the marginalized group as a whole. (Of course one way to do that is have lots of members of the group counteract the bad parents by treating the queer characters better.)

So yes, I would hesitate before making a character with a manipulative, overbearing, financially abusive mom Jewish if writing from the outside. There’s no reason that plot can’t be written about a gentile, and that way transmasculine Jewish readers won’t feel torn between the affirming validation of your character’s journey and feeling unwelcome and unsure about the portrayal of the mom. (Disclosure: I am not trans, so if you are trans and Jewish please weigh in on the notes.)

If he needs to be Jewish -- can they be bad parents in another way? Like completely preoccupied, or play favorites with a different kid, or something?

- Shira

While I see Shira’s point, I would like to say that this:

>>Most of my characters are queer with bad parents

makes a big difference to me. If I had to pick the Number One Thing to communicate when writing bad Jewish characters, I would probably say make sure it’s clear that they’re not bad because they’re darn Jews. The fact that most of your non-Jewish characters are in the same boat with their own parents, achieves that.

The specifics of this character’s bad traits, using money to control and manipulate, are a little problematic. In my opinion, the money-grabbing and string-pulling tropes are just about avoided, purely because the only victim of the financial abuse is also Jewish. Usually, the stereotype is that we’re conspiring to benefit Jews at the expense of everyone else.

For this reason, you might be able to work with this story if you emphasise the son’s Jewish identity and highlight his positive experiences and personality traits associated with his Jewishness. If that involves finding a community with other Jewish people where he can be safe from the abuse, even better.

It would also help to make some of the other bad parents equally wealthy. I’m starting to see more examples in fiction of Jewishness being used as a synonym or shorthand for privilege, and I’m a little worried this is becoming a modern version of the money-grabbing trope. Diluting this association by having non-Jewish wealthy families would be helpful.

Even with these things in place, not all Jewish readers will agree that the stereotypes have been averted. In particular, I think Shira made an excellent point (which I don’t really feel qualified to expand on) about transmasculine Jewish readers. People in this group may not often get to see people like them in stories, so I don’t know how it would feel for that to be in any way tarnished with even a slight stereotype. Coming back to the fact that most of your characters are queer with bad parents, how interchangeable are their circumstances? Can you simply swap this character arc with someone else’s to avoid the uncomfortableness?

- Shoshi

Though Shira and Shoshi covered things nicely, I'll weigh in briefly as the resident trans/nonbinary Jewish person.

Here are the issues I see at a glance:

A Jewish mother who is manipulative, toxic, abusive, and uses money to get her way

A Jewish man who is cowed by his mother, and vulnerable to financial coercion

An affluent Jewish family who uses their money to control

Now, as you suspected, having an overbearing, manipulative Jewish mother is feeding into a trope that causes constant pain for Jewish women. The idea that Jewish women are shrill, demanding, and unconcerned with the lives, and happiness of others around them is tossed around, even by some in the Jewish community. It's damaging, and also leaves Jewish women vulnerable. I think you could offset the damage by also including Jewish women, and especially maternal figures who are very clearly shown to not be overbearing, and to be generous (or at least not dictatorial ) with their money.

Your character himself is also a concern for me, and one of the reasons I decided to give input, despite Shira and Shoshi covering things very well already. The trope of the domineering Jewish woman is incredibly prevalent, and beside it you will often find the trope of the weak, nebbish of a Jewish man. The idea is that our men are ineffectual, easily cowed, wimpy. In short, the nebbishy Jewish man, written into so much media, is a reflection of the idea that our men are not really men, and how much harder does that stereotype hit, when it's being applied to a Jewish trans man? There is a danger here, when you show your character (who has his own reasons to play along, transitioning socially, or medically can have astronomical attendant costs) bowing to pressures from his family, especially his mother, you are unintentionally reinforcing that negative image of Jewish men, and of trans men.

Finally, the stereotypes of Jewish men, and women, are both combined with the overarching theme I'm seeing here: they have money, and they use it to get what they want, no matter the harm. Now, some people do this, of those people some are parents, inevitably some of those parents are Jewish, but this falls right in line with a third, very dangerous conception of Jewish people: that we all have money, and we use it for harm.

So, like Shira I do wonder what made you want to make this character Jewish. Did you decide arbitrarily, and build the overbearing mother, the money, and the capitulating character himself after that, or did you have those things first, and decide he must be Jewish later? I feel this is a character, and a backstory that can be written, but not without putting in a fair bit of work, and examining your own logic is a part of that. In your writing you will need to show other Jewish people who are not rich, some who are and are not using that money to control. Showing mothers (and maternal figures) who listen, and are gentle, loving, sweet even. Showing Jewish men who are thoughtful, but know their own minds, and are willing to stand up for themselves, and others. It's possible, but certainly will expand your word count, and increase the time spent double-checking your work for these biases, and tropes. If you want to go ahead be ready, and be determined, it's a lot of work.

- Dierdra

#Jewish #abuse #abusive parents #Jewish stereotypes #lgbtqia #representation #abuse tw #Jewish women #Jewish men #Greedy Jew #Transgender #Asks

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sankyeom · 4 years

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batter up! | e.s

pairings: eric sohn x female reader genre: baseball player!eric, college au, strangers to lovers, summary: in which you are assigned to interview the unapproachable baseball team ace eric sohn, and things end up going sideways word count: 6.1k (did i get carried way with the concept? yes i did) requested: nope i literally have other requests from months ago that i should get to but i’ve been having writers block and i couldn’t write any of them without it sounding awful sooooo here we are!!! enjoy lol note: all of the boyz are the same age for the sake of the story. also, the start of the plot is based on rowoon’s episode of sf9’s drama click your heart. 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

“So, you want to join newspaper,” the newspaper editor, Choi Chanhee, said as he crossed his arms and surveyed you. It was the start of the second semester, and you soon realised that you had very few clubs and activities under your belt. “What makes you think I’ll let you join in the middle of the year?” Chanhee inquired, raising an eyebrow in question. His full cheeks and baby pink hair usually made him seem approachable and soft, but his hard expression cancelled out any comfort his other features might have brought you.

You blinked at him. “We’ve been best friends since freshman year?” you deadpanned, irritated that Chanhee was making such a big deal out of it. From the corner of the room, you noticed Changmin suppress a giggle by clearing his throat and pretending to cough into the bend of his elbow. “Come on, Chanhee. You’re a reporter short since Bomin quit, right?” you recalled what he had been moaning about for nearly three months. “I can fill in for him! I’ll be great.”

Despite being your best friend and normally having quite a warm personality, Chanhee was skeptical. “Alright,” he decided, drawing the word out and unfolding his arms. Chanhee sauntered over to where Changmin was standing and – after giving him a sharp elbow to the ribs – grabbed his clipboard, pretending to look for something to assign you. You could tell by the ways his eyes didn’t even skim the words that he already had something in mind for you. “If you’re so desperate to join the paper, then you can do the interview on Eric Sohn,” he stated, giving you a challenging look.

So much for him “going easy on you”, as he had said moments before the two of you entered the media room together.

Dramatically, a few gasps sounded through the media room and you sighed. “Who’s Eric Sohn?” you almost regretted asking, since everyone seemed mortified that you didn’t know him.

“He’s the baseball team’s ace,” Juyeon explained while trying to balance his water bottle on his head. It was half full and he had been at it for the entire time you tried to convince Chanhee to let you join newspaper. “Unapproachable as hell, though. We’ve tried to interview him before and believe me, it was terrible,” he added with a quiet laugh, eyes crinkling at the outer corners. “He’s a friend of ours but he doesn’t really say much.”

“Everyone wants to know more about him,” Chanhee elaborated, causing your eyes to flicker back to your best friend. “And if I want to be the best editor in history of the paper, I’m getting that story,” he smiled sweetly, as if he hadn’t given you – what seemed like – an impossible job. “Like you said, you’ll be great!” Chanhee pumped a fist in the air half-heartedly to encourage you.

Sunwoo snorted, lying across three chairs he had lined up for him to curl up on. “Or not,” he sang, tossing a hacky sack between his hands with ease. “Eric’s my best friend and the last time I tried to interview him, he yelled at me for interrupting his practice and had the coach kick me out,” Sunwoo seemed amused by the turn of events, but it didn’t motivate you to carry out your interview. “I’m banned from the baseball field now.”

It wasn’t long before other members of the paper brought up their own horror stories, describing attempts at interviewing the baseball team’s ace. The negativity in the room surprised you; it was supposedly only an interview assignment. Was Eric Sohn really that difficult to be around? And if so, why was your best friend making your first assignment so hard on you?

“So far, this assignment has been proven impossible to complete,” Chanhee explained. “Do we all agree that if Y/n can do this, she gets to join newspaper? No questions asked?” he glanced around at his team of writers, photographers and editors. Immediately, the members all nodded. Chanhee smiled at you.

Well, that answered your questions.

Feeling burdened, you asked Chanhee, “How long do I have for this?”

Chanhee flicked through the stack of papers attached to his clipboard until he found the paper’s schedule. “I can give you about a month, but no more than that,” he insists. “I may be your best friend, but I do have a weekly paper to put out,” he adds, making you nod.

“A month is more than enough,” you promised. “On what days does the baseball team meet?”

The indoor baseball stadium your university had was cold in the mornings. Chanhee had managed to get Eric’s practice schedule from Sunwoo, and the next morning at 5:30am sharp, you arrived at the stadium to try and interview Eric. As you opened the main door, you could hear a loud and clear voice telling everyone to do their warmups so they could start practicing. Since you didn’t know much about baseball, you decided to make your way towards the bleachers and watch the team practice for a while.

Chanhee had shown you a picture of Eric so you would know who you were looking for, and you were slightly miffed that it hadn’t done him any justice. He stood out much more in person; his features sharper and body leaner and stronger from the years of practice. You were almost intimidated by his overall aura and piercing gaze.

Checking your notes, you recalled basic information that Chanhee had given you so that you weren’t completely clueless going into your interview. Eric Sohn was the ace player because he was their best batter and fastest runner. This combination along with his precision allowed him to almost always hit home runs and also be an excellent fielder. A summary of his past scores had also been provided, but that might as well have been a completely different language because you couldn’t understand it.

With a sigh, you tightened your jacket around you in order to warm up more in the cool stadium. Watching Eric practice, you noticed that he wasn’t batting very well on that day. There was a crease between his brows and he kept hitting the ground with his bat in frustration, occasionally throwing it down staring at the floor in contemplation.

You really felt for him.

It was clear that the team relied on him a lot and his reputation of being unapproachable and cold surely couldn’t have been entirely fair, either. His coach was chastising him, pointing his finger and raising his voice as Eric stood still and nodded, face void of any expression. You assumed his coach had told him to take a break, because he started removing his batting gloves and making his way to the bench.

You knew it probably wasn’t the best time to approach him for a favour, but you had been sitting for nearly an hour and your legs and thighs were starting to feel numb. The walk down the steps was welcome, even when your heart raced with nerves as you approached Eric. When you were a few steps away from him, the boy glanced up and raised an eyebrow at you. “This is a closed practice,” he told you.

Of course he had to have the most incredible voice to go along with his looks. Great.

“Um,” You stammered dumbly for a moment, tucking your hair behind your ear to give your hands something to do. “I know. I just- I was hoping you had a moment?” you asked, voice far less confident than you had wished. “I’m on the university’s newspaper and I was assigned an interview on you.”

“On me,” Eric repeated, tilting his head to the side. “Chanhee really doesn’t give up, does he,” something resembling a chuckle left his lips. “I’m at practice right now,” his tone was firm, as if he was trying to tell you to leave without expressing those exact words.

You felt yourself nodding. “I get it… if you’re having a hard time with your practice,” you added, thinking back to how his coach yelled at him. “I understand that and I can leave you alone.”

Eric observed you; you weren’t sure exactly what he was looking for, but he suddenly motioned towards you. “What’s the first question?” he asked. You were pleased that he had decided to do the interview and, in fear of him changing his mind again, immediately opened your notebook to search for the questions Chanhee had wanted answered.

“Right,” you said, finding the right page. “Um, what made you-“

“Heads up!” a shout distracted you from your thoughts. Your head whipped to the side to see who was shouting, only to see a baseball being hurtled at you at a blistering speed.

“Watch out!” Eric exclaimed, jumping in front of you to grab the baseball before it could smack you directly in the face. You flinched at the sound of his hand coming in contact with the baseball, stunned that he had expertly caught the tiny sphere at the speed it was going at.

Just as you were about to thank Eric for saving you, the boy fell to the ground, moaning in pain at the impact. The ball fell from his grasp and he held onto the hand that caught it with his other; tears building in his eyes. You kneeled down next to him, panicked. “Are you okay?” you questioned, concerned at his reaction.

“Sohn!” his coach yelled, running over to where you and Eric were crouched. “What the hell were you thinking, catching a fastball with your bare hands?” the man chastised, kneeling with the boy and calling the team medic over to inspect Eric’s hand.

“Is that bad?” you asked innocently, confused as to why Eric was in so much pain.

The coach gave you a glare. “Get out of my stadium,” he ordered instead of answering you.

You glanced between him and Eric, feeling embarrassed at the situation. “I’m really sorry,” you told Eric sincerely, picking up your abandoned bag and running out of the stadium.

Chanhee was going to kill you.

“I thought you wanted to be on the paper,” Chanhee said with a frown. “Not that you wanted the paper to write an article about you injuring the baseball team’s star player,” he emphasised, making you flinch.

“That isn’t fair!” you exclaimed. “I didn’t do anything wrong! If anything, we should be asking ourselves why a teammate of Eric’s blatantly hurled a baseball in his direction,” you tried to defend yourself. “And I was in the midst of getting that interview, thank you very much.”

“And now I’ll never get it,” Chanhee sighed. Younghoon rolled his eyes at your friend’s theatrics.

“Shouldn’t we be more concerned that our friend is injured than the fact that you didn’t get your story?” he reminded your pink-haired friend. Chanhee waved his hand at him, as if physically swatting Younghoon’s words away, before going back to picking at his lunch.

“Yeah Chanhee,” a voice behind you agreed, and you knew in your gut that it was Eric. Nervously, you turned around to face the blond and saw him already looking at you. Your eyes met and you were startled by how much warmer his deep brown eyes appeared. “You’re being a terrible friend.”

“Well you’re a terrible friend, too,” Chanhee argued. “How many reporters have I sent to interview you, only to have them be humiliated and turned down?” he asked.

“I’m injured,” Eric said as he took the empty seat between you and Kevin. “Can’t you lay off on the newspaper stuff for a while?” Chanhee rolled his eyes but said nothing; you knew this meant that he agreed with Eric but was too proud to voice it.

Eric’s mention of an injury made you glance down at his right hand, seeing it tightly wrapped in a bandage. “Are you okay?” you asked him, observing his hand.

“It’s a sprain,” Eric explained, lifting his hand up for your friends to see. “Nothing major, but I have to sit out of practice for at least a month, according to the doctor,” he added. “It’s a good thing the season doesn’t start until two months from now.”

Your heart sank at his admission. “I’m really sorry,” you told him. “Truly. I never meant for that to happen,” you promised. “Is there anything I can do?” you offered, wanting to help him out since you had caused enough problems for him.

“Sure,” Eric allowed. “First off, you can tell me your name.”

You smiled at this. “I’m Y/n,” you introduced yourself. “What else?”

You were surprised when the corners of Eric’s mouth lifted up into a small grin. “You could walk me to class?”

He had a stunning smile. Something about it made you want to make him smile more.

Helping Eric with his books and bag had become a regular thing. At first, you did it because you felt guilty about partially being at fault for his injury (and because you were curious about him). Soon, you found that Eric was actually quite a bright and excitable person who was a lot of fun to be around.

As Eric was always so busy juggling school and baseball, he never sat with you and your mutual friends during mealtimes. Now that he no longer had to attend baseball practise at the recommendation of his doctor, Eric was able to sit with your friends every lunch and dinner. Even your friends were surprised when Eric started openly joining discussions and laughing at Sangyeon and Juyeon’s terrible jokes. Sunwoo especially was quite startled by this change; as his roommate and best friend, it was a change that he welcomed despite the initial shock.

After a particularly tiring day of midterms, you felt compelled to do something fun instead of spending the whole night cramming for a midterm you were already confident in doing well on. At approximately 3am, you found yourself rounding up ingredients for chocolate chip cookies from your baking stash and tip-toeing your way into the communal kitchen to bake.

Your roommate had been asleep for a few hours at that point, and you knew that most of your friends would be resting after their rigorous study schedules. Thus, as you rolled up your sleeves and pre-heated the oven, you hadn’t expected anybody to be awake to join your late night – or early morning? – cookie escapades.

Which was why you nearly lost your soul when a hand tapped you on the shoulder. You had your earphones in and were humming along to your favourite playlist as you started mixing the dry ingredients for your cookies, and leapt in the air at the contact. Whirling around, you sighed in relief when you saw Eric, stood with pink pyjamas and ruffled hair, instead of your RA. “You scared me,” you told him, even though you knew he could tell from your reaction. “What are you doing awake?”

Eric shrugged. “I heard someone walking down the hall,” he explained. “I guess a small part of me was hoping it was you,” he grinned widely after his cheesy comment, urging you to roll your eyes.

“Very funny,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up and palms started sweating at his sweet words.

“What are you making?” Eric asked, hopping up to sit on the counter and slipping his glasses on so he could see better. “Cookies?”

You hummed. “Chocolate chip,” you added with a big grin, holding up the bag of sugary delights to emphasise your point.

“My favourite,” Eric noted happily. “Can I help?”

You nodded, listing off the wet ingredients that he could prepare for you in a seperate bowl. You knew he could pour it all with one hand and you would do the mixing yourself afterwards. After handing Eric one of your earphones, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you made your cookie batter, the silence only breaking once in a while by your giggles as you bumped into one another. The first time was a mistake on your part, but after that the two of you were trying your hardest to make the other person giggle and squirm.

Once the cookies were shaped and in the oven, you and Eric sat on the floor near them to relish in the heat the oven was radiating. “What were those questions you wanted to ask me?” Eric inquired, referring to the interview questions Chanhee had prepared for you.

Your eyes widened in surprise. The two of you hadn’t discussed the interview since he was injured, and you had nearly forgotten about your assignment. “Oh. They were mostly just about your baseball life and how you keep your grades up and stuff,” you admitted. “It’s not the interview I would have wanted to give, but it’s what Chanhee wanted.”

“What would you have asked me, then?” Eric asked. “What is your ideal Eric Sohn interview,” he added in an MC voice, making you fight off a grin at how silly he was being.

“Well,” you trailed off, trying to find the right wording. “That day I was at practice it looked like you were having a pretty hard time. What was going through your mind?”

Eric went silent. He hadn’t been expecting that. “I was just thinking that it’s hard to be perfect all the time. My team relies on me a lot, and while it’s an honour to be such an important member of the team, it can be really hard when people expect you to be the ace and you don’t perform.”

There was a distant look on his face, as if his thoughts were going a hundred miles a minute. “What made you want to join the university baseball team?” you asked, moving slightly so that you were facing Eric more comfortably.

A smile reached his lips. “I just really love baseball,” he chuckled. “I’ve been playing since I was a kid. Obviously I knew that university baseball was going to be on a different level, but I just knew that I wasn’t done playing yet. The challenge was exciting and it motivated me to be a better player.”

“I guess it worked,” you mused.

“I guess so,” he reluctantly agreed.

“So when did you start playing?” you asked, peering into the oven to check on your cookies. They had at least another five minutes left until they would be the golden-brown colour you wanted.

“I’ve played with my dad for fun ever since I can remember,” Eric admitted. “Of course when you grow up in LA, you watch baseball on TV with your family,” he added, reminiscing in his childhood.

“Dodgers?” you guessed his favourite team, since he said he was from LA.

“Yankees,” he corrected with a shrug. “My family used to go down to Yankee stadium to watch them play during baseball season when we visited New York. Our seats were always all the way in the back in the highest row, but I didn’t care. As long as I got to watch it all,” you laughed at his excitement. “I guess you could say my baseball career started in little league,” Eric recalled, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Sometimes I wish I could go back,” the smile slowly fell from his face. “Everything was so much easier then.”

“I get that,” you agreed with him. “I never played in little league, but I remember going to my friends’ games,” you said, almost picturing the old baseball field with all your friends running around and playing. “I didn’t even know what was going on in the game. All I knew was that I could cheer on my friends. I’d yell for them as loudly as possible and get popcorn to keep myself entertained during the parts where my friends were benched,” you smiled at the memory. “It was just... fun. I didn’t have to think about any grown-up problems.”

“That’s exactly how I felt,” Eric agreed, excitement filling his voice. “I finally got to make friends that loved baseball as much as me, and playing was fun. It was exciting and nerve-wracking, and it made me happy to practice and play another game,” he sighed. “These days, I play because the university relies on me, and because my parents want me to,” Eric confessed. “I miss loving baseball, I-“ he paused, clearing his throat. “I want to love baseball. But with all the pressure and expectations…” he trailed off, alluding to the fact that he no longer loved the sport that used to fill his childhood with happiness.

You bit your lip. “I’m sorry,” you told him, more as a form of empathy than anything else. “What made you fall in love with baseball in the first place?”

Eric pondered. “Well, at first I just enjoyed playing the sport. But the longer I played, I guess I liked being part of a team. I liked feeling supported by the other guys and feeling like I was needed and trusted by them.”

“What’s missing from your team now that makes you feel like you don’t have that?” you wondered.

“I guess my team relies on me more than I feel like I can give them,” Eric confesses, voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, and you hesitantly reached your hand out for him to hold. He grasped it tightly in his, thankful for the small sign of support.

“Maybe you can find support elsewhere,” you suggested, slightly holding up your hands and smiling.

“Yeah, maybe,” Eric agreed with a smile, tears slightly welling in the corners of his eyes. You didn’t have anything else to say and were grateful for the alarm quietly going off on your phone, signalling that your cookies were ready. “Perfect timing,” he added with a laugh as the two of you stood up. You pretended not to see Eric wipe away a tear with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

They hadn’t looked like sad tears.

Chanhee flipped through the pages you had printed out for him to read. He already spent ten minutes reading and re-reading the article you had written. At this point, it was just getting ridiculous. “Chanhee,” you whined, making the pink-haired boy place the papers down.

“This is…” he paused, trying to find the words. “How did you get him to open up like that?” Chanhee wondered, unable to grasp the idea that Eric had given you so many childhood anecdotes and personal stories to fill the pages of your interview.

You smiled. “I just talked to him like a friend instead of someone to interview,” you shrugged. “He’s actually surprisingly easy to talk to. And really talkative once he gets started,” you added as an afterthought.

“I noticed that about him recently,” Sunwoo agreed. This time, instead of lying across three chairs, he was sat upside down on the only sofa in the media room, head dangling dangerously close to the ground. “These days he seems happy to tell me about his day and doesn’t leave a single detail out. It’s kind of crazy to see the change,” Sunwoo told you.

Chanhee help up the pages. “Did he really approve everything in this?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, of course. I wrote it with his permission and let him read it all before I brought it to you. He’s happy with it,” you promised your best friend. “Wouldn’t want to upset my best friend and potential editor…” you trailed off, hopeful.

“Well obviously you’re in!” Chanhee exclaimed, hugging you tightly as you laughed. “You just got me the most personal article of a university athlete I’ve ever published. You deserve it,” he assured you. “Plus, you put a permanent smile on one of my friend’s faces. I didn’t think that would be possible,” Chanhee gave you a meaningful look when you separated, causing you to smile bashfully and angle your gaze at the floor to avoid his gaze.

“He’s way more open than you guys gave him credit for,” you retorted. You truly believed it; the first time you tried to interview him, he had surprised you with how willing he was to help you out.

“And emotional,” Changmin chimed in. “He cried during The Notebook, then he cried again when we put a horror film on afterwards. You can’t win.”

His comment made you laugh, picturing Eric curled up on the couch in the communal dorm movie room while sobbing into Changmin’s shoulder was too good to pass up on. “Make sure you invite me to the next movie night,” you requested. Changmin saluted you in response, Sunwoo throwing a thumbs up in agreement to allow you to join. “Anyway, I need to get going. I’m actually heading to surprise said cry-baby at his first day back at practice,” you informed them, picking up your bag to get going.

“His hand healed so quickly?” Juyeon asked, surprised.

“Not at all,” you denied with a sad smile. “He says it’s still hurting these days. But his coach wants him to come observe practice so when his hand heals he’ll be up to date on everything... Or something,” you shrugged, unsure of how people prepared for baseball games.

As you waved your goodbyes, Chanhee called out to you: “Don’t forget we meet every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday for newspaper!” You were pleased that Chanhee had enjoyed your article and wanted you on the newspaper, especially since so many of your friends were usually occupied by this extracurricular activity anyway.

Once you arrived at the baseball stadium, you took a seat on the first bleacher to wait for Eric to arrive. The weather had warmed significantly since the first time you came a month ago. You supposed the fact that it was an afternoon practice instead of an early morning practice also added to the lack of cold you were experiencing.

“Hey,” a member of Eric’s team approached you with a smile.

Unsure, you smiled back and greeted him. “Hello,” you said.

“You look a little out of place,” he said to you, standing in front of you. “I’ve never seen you here before,” he added.

“Oh yeah, I don’t usually come here,” you confirmed for him. “I’m just waiting for a friend,” you added politely.

“You’re far too pretty to be waiting alone,” he said, which made you freeze up. You hadn’t been approached by guys like him often, but it had happened enough for you to know that they really couldn’t take a hint.

“And yet here I am,” you replied, trying to sound curt.

“I could keep you company,” the guy suggested. You opened your mouth to protest, but he had already taken a seat next to you, far too close for your personal comfort. As you subtly scooted away from him, he seemed to take this as a suggestion for him to sit even closer to you. “I like your hair,” he said, lifting his hand as if he was about to touch it.

A hand grabbed his before he could. “It doesn’t sound like you asked,” Eric told his teammate, right hand tightening on the boy’s, voice clipped and laced with anger. “So I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” Eric yanked him up to his feet, and you finally felt like you could breathe again with the distance between the two of you. With a harsh shove, he stumbled back and glared at Eric, cursing under his breath and stalking off.

“Eric your hand,” you realised, standing up and trying to inspect his injured hand.

“Are you okay?” he asked instead, searching your body for any sign that you were uncomfortable or hurt. “That creep didn’t say or do anything?”

You shook your head. “No, no, I’m fine! But your hand-“ you soon realised that Eric wasn’t even wearing the brace anymore. After the original bandage that was put on it, his doctor had given him a small wrap brace so he could do everyday activities with more ease and support. Instead, his hand was bare and looked completely fine. “Is healed?” you stammered, confused. You glanced up at Eric, who seemed to be avoiding eye contact. “Just yesterday you told me that it was hurting.”

“I lied,” Eric confessed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you forgave him easily. It wasn’t a big deal and you were just happy that he wasn’t in pain anymore, especially since you felt partially responsible for the injury in the first place. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you wondered.

Eric scratched the back of his neck and sighed. “I like having you around, okay?” he admitted. “I figured that after you got whatever you needed for your interview, you would leave me alone and go back to how things were before I was injured.”

His disclosure had stunned you into silence. You opened your mouth to say something twice, but ended up closing it again for lack of knowing what to say. “You thought I was just talking to you for my interview?” you clarified. Eric nodded. “I completely forgot about it until you brought it up a few weeks ago,” you admitted to him. “I was spending time with you because I wanted to, not because I wanted to get interview answers out of you,” you promised.

“Not even because you felt guilty about being involved in my injury?” Eric inquired.

“At first I wanted to help you because I felt guilty,” you agreed. “But after the first time we hung out together I stopped caring about that.”

“Oh,” Eric said, staring at you as if he had no clue what to say. “I really thought you were going to leave…”

You were amused that Eric was so sure of himself. “Did you ever consider asking me to stay?” you pointed out, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow to tease him.

Eric paused. “Will you?” he wondered.

“Will you?” you retorted.

Eric frowned. “I’m lost,” he stated. “Will I what?”

You grinned, finding his furrowed brows and slightly cocked head quite adorable. “Kiss me,” you told him what you meant. His eye’s widened, lips parting slightly before Eric nodded. Once, twice, three times. You took this as your cue and stepped closer to him, your lips easily finding his as you closed your eyes.

“Sohn!” the sound of his coach’s voice caused you to jump apart. “This is baseball practice. You can practice that in your own time,” he said, although you could tell by his tone that he was poking fun at his ace player.

Eric blushed, clearing his throat. “Yes coach,” he called, smiling shyly at you before rushing off to put on his batting gloves.

Decked out in your university’s colours, you stood in the bleachers with your friends, anxiously biting your lip as you watched the game unfold before you. Eric and his team had made it to the championships this season, and you were more than thrilled to go and support him with the rest of your friends. Eric had been teaching you about baseball for months now, and the more you went to watch him play, the more motivated you were to remember everything he told you.

Your article had been published in the newspaper a week after you handed it in to Chanhee, and the personal interview had made it the most popular issue Chanhee had ever published as the editor of the weekly paper. Needless to say, readers wanted you to write a follow-up interview on Eric and his life on the baseball team, especially after word got out that the two of you had started dating. For a while, you were the talk of the town. You were unnerved by the sudden attention, but things mellowed down soon after people realised that you weren’t interested in satiating their endless questions.

“How much longer is this going to be?” Haknyeon whined, sighing as he leaned against Kevin for support. He had mostly been attracted by the idea of all the great snacks that being at a baseball game entailed, and hadn’t realised that a game without timing such as baseball could go on for hours.

“This is the ninth inning, so most games usually end with this round,” you spouted the information Eric had drilled into you with ease after going to his games all season long.

Next to you, Jacob giggled. “You’re turning into a natural at this,” he complimented, grinning. “Eric would be proud,” he added happily.

“Eric is their last batter,” you said in response, more focused on the game than on Jacob’s comments. “He looks nervous,” you mused, foot tapping nervously on the floor, causing your whole leg to move rapidly.

“Don’t you be nervous, he’s got this,” Kevin assured you, trying to stop Haknyeon from falling asleep on his shoulder. “Despite his injury a few months before the season started, this is the best he’s ever played.”

Hyunjae chuckled. “Yeah, I wonder why,” he teased, pointing over at you behind his hand as if you wouldn’t have known what he was doing.

You shushed your friends. “He’s up,” you said, voice shaking slightly from your nerves.

Eric stepped up to the place, looking like he was at ease and confident. This calmed you only slightly, because you knew that Eric was good at putting on a performance during his games. He knew that if he looked even slightly anxious, it would affect the other players and the audience too. Eric adjusted his grip on the bat and got in position. The pitcher threw the ball and Eric swung, missing the ball by a hair.

You groaned. “Strike one!” the umpire called, holding up a finger.

“Come on, Eric…” you mumbled, folding your hands together and squeezing tightly.

The second time the pitcher threw the ball, Eric swung the bat and hit the ball clean, sending it soaring over the outfield fence, only hitting the ground after flying between the foul poles. You gasped, jumping in the air and cheering. “What’s happening?” Chanhee asked, standing up next where you and Jacob were shouting for joy.

“Home run!” you and Jacob chorused as Eric ran his way to each base at lightning speed, reaching home base and making the winning run for your university’s team. “We won!” Jacob added and your friends all cheered with you, jumping up and down in excitement.

You could see the team celebrating together by screaming and jumping as well, and you clapped along with the rest of the audience. Eric joined their excitement after pulling off his helmet and gloves, making you smile in relief. After opening up to you and your friends, Eric had decided to speak with his team and coach about the pressure he was feeling. The team had reacted better than Eric expected, and soon Eric felt reassured and supported by his teammates.

Once Eric had given his coach a hug, he charged towards the fence separating the field from the bleachers. Instantly, your friends started cooing at you, but you only rolled your eyes. You had gotten used to the teasing after dating Eric for half a year at that point and it no longer affected you anymore. You handed Jacob your bag and raced down the bleacher steps towards your boyfriend.

“Congratulations!” you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him when he met you on your side of the fence. You easily fit into his arms and heard Eric’s adrenaline-filled laughter next to your ear.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he stated, pulling away just enough to kiss you. The cheers coming from your friends were almost defeating at this point but you ignored them, pulling Eric closer to you and deepening the kiss. When you pulled away, he gave you one last peck before beaming. “You helped me fall in love with baseball again, and that’s something I can never repay you for,” Eric told you, causing your heart to swell with pride.

You had noticed the changes in Eric’s attitude towards baseball before the season started. He seemed more excited about his practices and was getting closer to the people on his team. “It’s not little league, but it’s pretty good, right?” you asked rhetorically.

Eric laughed. “Really good,” he corrected. “Not only did I fall in love with baseball again, but it helped me fall in love with you for the first time,” Eric confessed. The two of you had never said that you loved each other, even though you showed it every day with your actions.

You beamed. “I love you too, Eric.”

And with that, you were pulled into another kiss. This one felt more fulfilling and warm than all the previous ones combined.

note: i’m a sucker for cheesy endings so i had to end it like this!!

#the boyz #eric #eric sohn #tbz #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz oneshots #the boyz fic #the boyz x reader #son youngjae #eric imagines #eric imagine #the boyz imagine #tbz imagines #tbz imagine #eric x reader #deobiwritersnet #fic: batter up!

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10-porgs-in-a-trenchcoat · 3 years

Text

Selfies, Tea, and Photography

AO3

Pairing: Commander Fox x GN!Reader Pen Pal Fic

Premise: based off this post I made a while back where I mused on the concept of a clone/reader insert pen pal fic. Starting off with Fox based on a suggestion by @istanmyman

Word count: ~3.9k

Rating: G

Other notes: Gender-neutral reader, no use of Y/N, apparently I can only write Thorn as Fox’s best bro and nosy wingman

When you heard the news that the Grand Army of the Republic was starting up a correspondence program for troopers and civilians to connect and communicate, you immediately signed up for it. Not that your friends and family weren’t enough for you, it was just that you itched to learn more about the galaxy and what it was like to live and travel among the stars. Enrolling in the program was the closest you were going to get until you were able to travel yourself.

(That, and you were curious to learn more about the clones who were fighting for the Republic.)

Around a month after signing up for the program, you learned you were matched with CC-1010, also known as “Fox.” A few days after learning about your match, you received your first message from him.

Hello,

I am Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard. I am stationed on Coruscant, where I oversee the security of the Senate, manage operations at the military base on the planet, and coordinate with local authorities to maintain public safety. My fellow Guard Commanders and I are participating in this correspondence program to connect with Republic citizens we have sworn to protect and defend. I look forward to communicating with you.

Regards,

Commander Fox

His opening message was … something. It read like he didn’t want to be in the program, like his fellow Commanders may have forced him to do it with them. You also supposed he may have not known how else to introduce himself, and that was the best way he could think of to make a good first impression.

Regardless of the reason for his overly stiff and formal introduction, you wrote up your first message to Fox:

Hello Commander Fox, it’s nice to meet you!

I live on Naboo, in a small town in the lake country. I have a job in my grandmother’s tea shop. It’s not nearly as exciting as guarding Senators or catching bad guys, but it’s quiet and peaceful. I’m saving up to travel the galaxy one day, and until then the next best thing is talking with people like you who live in different places.

I do have some questions for you: what’s it like living on Coruscant? What do you do in your free time? Do you have any exciting stories about saving Senators from Separatists that you can share?

Hope to hear from you soon!

You signed with your name and sent the message.

A few days later, Fox sent his response. He greeted you by name in his opening line then went on to say:

Coruscant is loud, crowded, and messy. Feels like the planet never sleeps, with all the noise and lights at all hours of the day. My troopers and I live in barracks on the surface, and we don’t get much free time. Some of the boys like to go to this bar called 79’s that a lot of clones frequent. It’s not my favorite place, though. When I have free time, I like to relax with a good book, watch holodramas, or catch up on sleep. The work we do is important and a great service to the Republic, but a quiet peaceful life on Naboo with no excitement would be a welcome change of pace compared to my current station.

I haven’t rescued any Senators in the line of duty, but I did help Senator Amidala arrest Ziro the Hutt at the beginning of the war. I like Senator Amidala, she has a good head on her shoulders.

(She’s your Senator, isn’t she?)

I hope that’s what you were wanting to hear.

Looking forward to your response,

Commander Fox

You smiled to yourself as you read his message, and you imagined him in full armor laying back in a bed reading a book. Quiet, restful moments that you took for granted in your quiet life must have been sacred to a man like Fox.

The following day, you hiked out to the nearest lake to take pictures. You made sure to capture the lush green grass surrounding the lake, the colorful wildflowers growing along the shore, the sparkling crystal blue waters, and the majestic waterfalls that poured water into the lake. You made sure to include the pictures in the next message you wrote to Fox:

Senator Amidala is indeed from Naboo. She was our Queen too, back when I was younger. Everyone in my town loves her, and my grandma even has her royal portrait on display in the shop.

Not much has really happened since I last wrote to you. But I did go out and take some pictures of a nearby lake! The pictures are included with this message. I hope they can give you a small taste of my quiet life here.

Three weeks went by, and you hadn’t received a message from Fox. At first you figured he was busy with his duties. Then you worried that your pictures of the lake soured his mood, reminding him of something he couldn’t have. Then … you feared the worst.

One day after work, you went home and checked your message inbox on your computer. There was a message waiting for you from Fox. You breathed a sigh of relief as you opened it and read:

I’m sorry it took me so long to write you back. There was a bombing that took out the Senate’s power grid, and then a hostage crisis with bounty hunters, and then Ziro the Hutt escaped from prison. When I haven’t been scouring the city for Ziro or his accomplices, I have been neck-deep in paperwork.

Ironic, how right after I brag about helping bring Ziro into custody, he escapes.

I appreciate the pictures you sent me. Naboo looks like a beautiful planet. I would love to visit someday.

~ Fox

You took note of how he signed off with just his name, not his rank, and then you leaned back in your chair to mull over what to say to him. Your first idea was to invite him to visit Naboo once the war was over, but who knew when that would be. Unable to think of anything to say, you decided to come back to it later as you went about your evening.

The next day while you were at work, you served a customer some herbal tea that was supposed to have a relaxing effect. The customer didn’t stick around long enough for you to see if it worked, but you took a tin full of the loose-leaf tea home with you after your shift. You reviewed the rules of the correspondence program, confirming that it would be appropriate to send a package to Fox, and then you packaged the tea up and took it to the shipping depot to send to Coruscant.

Stars, shipping items to Coruscant was expensive. Fox better like that tea, you thought.

Hello Fox,

I don’t mind that you wrote late. I’m just glad that nothing happened to you.

That really is some rotten luck, Ziro escaping. I hope you or the Jedi catch him and take him back to prison. In the meantime, remember to rest and take care of yourself! Coruscant needs a great Commander like you looking out for it, and I like having you as my pen pal.

I sent you a package with some tea from the shop. It’s a relaxation blend. I haven’t tried it, but it’s popular with customers. It should arrive in the next rotation or two. Hope you like it.

Three days later you got his next message:

The tea is wonderful. I had a cup of it an hour before going to bed, and I had the best sleep of my life. Thank you.

~Fox

Short and sweet, but you couldn’t ask for more.

Over the following weeks you and Fox continued to exchange messages. The two of you discovered that you shared a common interest in a holodrama series and dedicated several messages to discussing it and predicting what might happen in the coming episodes. You sent him more pictures of the countryside and of your village, and he sent you pictures of the Coruscant skyline at sunset: the way the golden light of the sun glinted off the shining chrome towers was one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen, and it moved Coruscant up a few spots on your list of places to visit.

At one point you looked up pictures of the clones on the Holonet to get an idea of what Fox might look like. However, the only pictures of the troopers you could find showed them with their helmets on. The closest you could get was a ten-year-old picture of Jango Fett; Jango was ridiculously handsome, so it would stand to reason that Fox would be too.

Fox gradually began loosening up, and he shared stories about growing up on Kamino or shenanigans his brothers got into. He hinted at there being some interpersonal drama among some Senators, but he didn’t name names since he knew the supervisors of the correspondence program read his messages before sending them to you, to make sure he wasn’t divulging information he shouldn’t be.

Fox also asked you more questions about your life. You told him about your childhood, your relationship with your parents, how you got your job at your grandmother’s shop, about your friends that moved to Theed for work or university studies, and all the places in the galaxy you wanted to visit.

You mentioned wanting to see Felucia, and in his next message Fox included pictures of the planet’s colorful trees, plants, flowers, and shrubs – including a few at night, when the vegetation gave off a bioluminescent glow.

One of my fellow Commanders spends a lot of time doing missions on Felucia. I asked him for pictures to show you and he took these and sent them to me.

I’m trying to get him to join this correspondence program too, but he won’t agree to it. He spends a lot of time with his Jedi, maybe that’s enough for him.

I’ve had a lot of mixed feelings about not having a Jedi. I think about how some of them seem like a pain to work with and that it might not be worth the trouble, but then I see other Jedi treat the men under their command as friends or even family.

Which is why I’ve come to appreciate your messages. When I get them, they’re the highlight of my day. For a brief amount of time I feel like a normal person. I’ve never met you face-to-face, I don’t even know what you look like, but I consider you a friend.

~Fox

Getting pictures of Felucia from Fox made you feel all warm and fluttery inside. What he said about feeling like a normal person did as well, but it broke your heart at the same time. You wanted to stow away on a ship to Coruscant to give him a hug, and then go kick the behinds of anyone who ever made him feel bad about himself. Especially since he and his brothers worked so hard to keep people safe … it was a crime that they weren’t getting the recognition they deserved.

You snapped a picture of yourself to include in your next message, making sure the lighting and angle were just right so you looked your best. It also helped that you just happened to be wearing a color that you thought you looked good in.

Thank you for the pictures of Felucia! When I look at them it’s almost like I’m actually there. Please pass my gratitude along to your brother who took them.

I think of you as a friend too. I’m grateful to have you defending the Republic, and I’m glad to have you as my pen pal.

I don’t have much to offer you right now, other than a picture of me. At least now you can know what I look like.

You sent the message with the picture, leaned back in your chair, and watched the monitor of your computer. You knew that Fox wasn’t going to write back that same night, but you imagined him opening the message, reading your words, seeing your picture, and smiling the way his message made you smile.

Oh.

Oh no.

Were you developing a crush on him?

…

Then again, so what if you were? You didn’t have to tell him, you could hide it. He was parsecs away on another planet. And he was a clone; would he even be allowed to date if he wanted to? Nothing would or could come of it. If a crush was forming, with any luck it would go away on its own. But that didn’t stop you from double-checking how many credits you had in your savings and comparing that number to the cost for a ticket to Coruscant.

Four days went by during which you went about your usual business, often distracted by thoughts of Fox how his day might have been going. Maybe he was chasing Separatists or criminals around, or maybe he was buried under another mound of paperwork. You wondered if he caught the newest episode of the holodrama you both liked; you couldn’t wait to talk about it with him. That little crush you were sure would fade away wasn’t going anywhere, and it both delighted and frustrated you.

The first thing you did after you got home from your shift was check your messages. It had become routine at this point, especially since a new message from him easily became the highlight of your day. However, the message in your inbox – presumably from Fox – was not what you thought it would be:

Greetings, Fox’s Pen Pal!

I don’t know if you’ve noticed yet, but Fox has it BAD for you. I’ve been watching him write these messages to you and hemming and hawing around the barracks and his office making sure he gets every word just right. He’s got your pictures of the lakes and fields on Naboo framed on the wall of his office, he drank all that tea you sent him and he still keeps the tin on his desk right next to your selfie. And if you knew the amount of favors he had to cash in to get our brother Bly to get those pictures of Felucia for you! (it’s a lot, trust me)

Anyway, I thought you ought to know. I told him to make a move and be honest about his feelings but he’s shy. So even though I might be overstepping some boundaries, I feel like it’s my brotherly duty to intervene on his behalf. If there’s a chance you might feel the same way, you should tell him. If you don’t, proceed how you will but please go easy on him.

If it influences your decision-making process at all, I included a picture of him. He’s a good-looking guy if I do say so myself, although he’s not as handsome as me 😉

Yours truly,

Commander Thorn

PS – please don’t tell Fox that I wrote you using his account.

You sat at your computer, staring blankly at the words on the screen, taking minutes to process what you just read … and then you remembered there was a picture attached to the message, so you opened up the attachment.

Jango Fett may have been handsome, but Fox was gorgeous. He looked like he was in his early- or mid-twenties, although there were wisps of gray hair above his ears by his temples. His hair was cropped close along the sides and longer on top, and you took a minute to admire his curl pattern. He wasn’t smiling in the picture, his face wearing a more neutral resting expression that showed off the scar running along the corner of his mouth. Finally, you noticed his eyes: framed by dark circles, his irises were a deep, inviting shade of brown. What would it be like to look into his eyes in person, or run your hands through his hair, or trace his scar with your thumb before you went in to –

You stopped yourself. You were getting carried away. Heat rose up the back of your neck and across your cheeks.

For the rest of the evening you mulled over what to do next. You knew you wanted to tell him that you liked him too … but doing it over a message didn’t feel like enough. Turning up unannounced was a bad idea too. Would he even want you to show up in person? And since you didn’t have his contact information outside of the correspondence program, you didn’t have a way to call him for a face-to-face talk via holotransceiver.

Unsure of what to do, you fired off a message as soon as the fleeting idea for it popped into your brain. Would you regret it? Maybe. Only one way to find out.

Hi Fox,

I want to come visit you on Coruscant. When will you be free?

It only took a few minutes for him to respond, but it felt like hours. The entire time your heart pounded furiously in your chest, and you bounced your leg up and down since you could barely contain your jitters inside your body. There was a chance he would say no, Thorn did say he was shy after all. But when his message came through, you opened it immediately, and all the jitters melted away.

I see you got Thorn’s message … lucky for us he’ll be available to cover for me when I’m off-duty to host you. Let me know when you’re coming.

Your mouth instantly spread into a grin … you could hardly believe it. It hardly seemed real, even as you opened up a Holonet page to book a roundtrip ticket.

Four rotations later, your transport came into orbit around Coruscant. A shuttle took you from the transport down to the planet’s surface, and you were in awe of the densely-packed constellations of lights twinkling up from the planet’s surface. Descending into the atmosphere, those lights morphed into buildings, and lanes upon lanes of speeder traffic, and seemingly endless grids of buildings. At one point you saw several buildings whose architecture differed from the others; the pilot pointed them out and said they were the Senate Complex and the Jedi Temple, respectively.

You disembarked from the shuttle and paused to look around. Coruscant was nothing like Naboo. Not a speck of green in sight, no signs of nature, just duracrete and grays upon grays as far as the eye could see. And it was loud, just like Fox said it was, with the revving engines and blasting horns from speeders breezing by above your head.

You checked your wrist chrono, seeing that you had two hours until you were due to meet Fox at 79’s. Next, you pulled a datapad out of your bag that contained a map of the planet’s surface and studied how to get from your current position to the hotel you booked for your stay. The hotel was only a couple of blocks from the bar – not that you had certain expectations for this trip or anything, you thought it would be easier to stay nearby.

All in all, it took one hour and fifty minutes to get from the shuttle landing pad to the hotel to drop off your things, and then another eight to get from the hotel to 79’s. In your rush and panic as you navigated Coruscant’s taxi and public transportation systems, you didn’t have time to be too nervous about meeting Fox in person for the first time. But as you walked up to the entrance of the bar with its painfully bright neon signs and the muffled music spilling out from inside, it all hit you.

You took off to a strange planet by yourself to see a man you only knew through messages. If your grandmother had her way she would have stopped you from going. What if he didn’t like you after the trip … what if you didn’t like him? What if something went wrong?

But then you saw him standing by the entrance to the bar, recognizing him by his red-painted armor and the gray hairs above his ears and the thick curls on top of his head that you admired so much. He was surveying the area with a soldier’s laser-sharp focus, perhaps looking for your arrival, and he clutched a small bouquet of colorful flowers to his chest. When his eyes met yours, his face lit up with a smile, the most beautiful smile you had ever seen. Your worries seemed to matter less as you broke into a brisk jog to meet him.

“Fox?” you asked, smiling yourself.

“Indeed,” he responded before he handed the flowers to you. “I- uh- I got you these.”

“They’re beautiful, thank you,” you said. No one had ever gotten you flowers before; in the past it didn’t seem like anything to miss out on, but now that you held a bouquet in your arms, you felt special. Treasured, even.

“And, uh, as for the venue ….” Fox’s voice trailed off as he glanced over his shoulder at the bar’s garishly bright neon signs.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” you said, trying to be reassuring.

“I’m not allowed in most places, even when I’m off-duty … and I would have liked to take you somewhere nicer ….” He paused and rubbed the back of his neck. You could hear in his voice just how nervous he was.

“Because … well … you’re special to me. In a way no one else in my life is.”

You smiled at him again, and then wasted no time in leaning forward and pressing your lips to his cheek. It felt right to kiss him like that, but when you pulled back and saw him staring at you in shock and awe, you worried that it was too much too soon.

“C-can I …” he stammered. You nodded, and he angled his face so he could return the gesture. His lips were surprisingly soft against the skin of your cheek, and you couldn’t help but wonder what they would feel or taste like on your own lips.

There would be time for that later, you reminded yourself, if all went well.

“Does this place have food?” you ask him.

“Yes.”

“Drinks?”

“Well it is a bar … they have non-alcoholic drinks too, if that’s what you prefer.”

“Then it’s got everything I need. I don’t know what I would do with myself at a fancy restaurant anyway.”

“I imagine a restaurant would be quieter and allow for some proper conversation … but Thorn told me about a spot inside where we’ll be able to talk and hear each other without having to shout over the music.” Fox added.

“Sounds perfect,” you said with a smile.

Fox offered his arm to you and you took it, wrapping your hand around his bicep just above his elbow so he could lead you into the bar. Throughout the evening any time your eyes met his you felt safe, like you were the only person in the universe, and that you needed to figure out a way to make regular visits to Coruscant.

No matter what, you would always be glad you got Fox as a pen pal, and that you came to visit him. Especially since it was more fun to rant and rave about the newest episode of the holodrama in person.

#reader insert isn't my forte so I hope this is okay XD #commander fox #commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #clone trooper x reader #clone wars #star wars #my writing

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aerialflight · 3 years

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Fic Recs (cause it's always nice to give a shout out and get people into things I'm into rn)

[The Magnus Archives] (I recently finished the podcast and I fell into a hole for a while so here you go)

Sing a Song of Sixpence by Kaiel

Ship: Jon/Martin

In which Jonathan Sims is a Siren, and he fails to notice any new abilities granted to him by the position of Archivist. Or really anything about the Entities at all.

Takes place in season 1 featuring Jonah Magnus’s slow decent into madness

(The new mythology interwoven with tma's worldbuilding is so freaking good and I love how all the characters change and develop because of these changes. Also, f you Elias)

Along Came a Spider by Dribbledscribbles

Ship: implied Jon/Martin

Sasha James is the Archivist, as expected. Martin Blackwood is menaced by Jane Prentiss, as expected. Elias Bouchard weaves his web, as expected.

All goes as it should.

At least until something calling itself Jonathan Sims steps in.

(Web!Jon in this makes me want to weep, it's so freaking good. A pretty long, very excellent oneshot on what could've happened if Jon got taken by the web when he was a kid. And Sasha as the Archivist is ALWAYS so cool, we love her in this house.)

A Break in the Clouds by Ash_Rabbit

“I’m eight.” the kid sniffs as if eight was any different from four, maybe not an unspeakable horror then, just a regular horror. “And I heard that the Magnus Institute deals with-” his little nose scrunches, cute. “-spooky things.”

“Do you have a-” he cracks a grin, and then rethinks it as small hands tighten against their burden.”-spooky thing to deliver?” gods he hopes not, it’s bad enough when adults walk in and lay out all of their baggage, but for a child-

“There’s a spider in this book.” the kid says solemnly, raising his textbook sized parcel. “It ate Evan Pritchard.” a bloody fucking Leitner. Of course an eight year old would find a murder spider book. “This seemed like the best place to bring it.”

(I never thought about what the Original Elias could've been like AND NOW I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT BECAUSE OF THIS FIC. I LOVE HIM, HE'S COMPLEX AND HE CARES AND JON CARES AND THEY BOTH CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER. THIS IS THE CONTENT I WANT, OMG. Also, Jon being even smaller than usual is adorable, so cute. No wonder Elias wants to hug him, a LOT.)

See the Line where the Sky meets the Sea by The_Floating_World

Ship: Jon/Martin, Jon/Oliver Banks

When Jon is a child he looks into the infinite abyss of space. The Vast looks back into him.

(One of my all time fave fics in this fandom, no questions asked. I have reread this three times and am open to doing it again, god. Vast!Jon, such a concept. It's written so beautifully and the relationships Jon develops, so good. ugh. My heart. Please please read.)

Sweet As Roses by Prim_the_Amazing

Ship: Jon/Martin

“Come in, Martin,” he says, not looking up from his notes.

“Hi, Jon,” he says, and Jon stops writing at the sound of his voice. “We’re out of the green tea, but we’ve got lemon?”

Jon looks at him. Martin smiles at him in his usual tentative way as he sets the mug of tea down on Jon’s desk. Heat spikes so sharply in his gut that he twitches with it.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says, mouth dry, and he stands up.

“Oh,” he says, sounding almost surprised. He smiles again. “No-- no problem-- um, what are you--”

Jon takes Martin by the shoulders, leans up on the tips of his toes, and kisses him.

(You have no idea how much I howled through this fic, my god. *buries face in hands* The number of times I wanted to cry from sheer hilarity and horror reading this good lord.)

Things Could Always Be Worse by theOestofOCs

Ship: Jon/Martin, Georgie/Melanie

Sometimes, the most horrifying thing of all is what might have been.

Somewhere, Jon could swear he heard a crowd laughing.

Or: in which Jonathan Sims is forced to swap places with his alternate self—a tall, chivalrous hero extraordinaire, who knows neither fear nor nuance—and is sent to the aggressively straight alternate universe the Magnus Archives was never meant to be.

“Whatever place this is,” Jon announced, “I just want to be sure it knows I hate it.”

(I will say this once, THIS IS THE MOST CURSED THING IVE EVER READ EVER. Like holy hell. I can't believe this thing exists. please read it oh please please please)

[Supernatural]

heard from your mother (she don't recognize you) by Schmuzz

Ship: Dean/Cas, Jessica/Sam

A man named Cas wakes up in 2003 with no memories, but he's able to piece together a few things:

1. Supernatural creatures exist, and most of them will hurt innocent civilians if he doesn't stop them; 2. He has abilities that no human hunter should have, but he knows enough about human hunters to keep that to himself, and finally; 3. He keeps running into another hunter named Dean Winchester, who seems to be about as lonely as he is if he's willing to put up with those former facts long enough to help Cas unravel the mystery of who (or what) he really is.

For his part, Dean's still (not) dealing with Sam's departure to Stanford, and figures distracting himself with a bit of mystery and intrigue is as harmless as it gets, right? Right.

(THE fic I'm most into right now, been following this from the very start and it's AMAZING. Cas has agency and is making friends and S1 Dean is growing out of John's influence and is becoming a Person and the both of them first being friends then more. The slow burn as their relationship develops, SO GOOD. SO SO DAMN GOOD. *screams* Seriously one of the best spn fics I've read in a long, long time.)

anamnesis by cenotaphy

Ships: Castiel/Dean, Sam/Eileen

Chuck is depowered, Jack is the new god, and the world is free. Dean and Sam get into the Impala and chase down the miles on an endless highway, and their story is finally, finally their own to follow. At least, that's what Dean tells himself. But the diners and motels and painted interstate lines are blurring together and the smallest details keep catching at his brain like tiny fishhooks and he can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is exactly as it should be.

* Fix-it/alternate series finale. Canon-compliant through the end of 15.19.

(THIS IS THE FIC THAT GOT ME THROUGH THE FINALE OKAY. WHY COULDN'T THIS HAVE BEEN CANON. It's Disturbing and honestly plot-wise this makes more sense. Why couldn't we have had this. *screams*)

[Avatar: The Last Airbender]

where the stars do not take sides by WitchofEndor

Ship: Sokka/Zuko

When Azula is nine, she becomes an only child. She hears the Fire Lord call for Zuko's life, and in the morning, her mother and brother are gone. Azula may be young, but she isn't naive. She knows what happened to them.

Which makes it all the more surprising when Azula tracks the Avatar down and fights his group of peasant friends, only to find herself staring into an eerily familiar face.

(The fact one of the tags in this fic is, "Sibling Dynamic: Fucked Up But Wholesome" should give you an idea what this fic is like. Chaotic as HELL and I just love Azula here, she loves Zuko so much in her messed up way and Zuko loves her back in the exact same way lol. It's batshit and I am Here For This.)

[Naruto]

Eclipse by AislingRoisin (JayBird345) for HybrisAnaideia

Ship: Nara Shikaku/OFC

"In life, it's easier to remain stagnant and wallow in your troubles. But life isn't merely about continued existence, nor is it meant to be gone through alone."

(This is a fic that's slept on and I NEED people to read this. A self-insert fic that I find really interesting in its approach and the worldbuilding for the post-third war shinobi world is fantastic. I feel like there's a certain pattern with self-insert fics, not that is a detriment in any way to how much I enjoy them, so this fic feels fresh to me in a way I haven't read in a while. I am waiting eagerly for this to get updated! Please read!)

On Freedom and Other Formalities by iaso

Ship: Kakashi/Genma/OFC

When push comes to shove, Hiwa Inuzuka doesn't go down easy. Reborn into a new, dangerous world? She puts her past life as a spy to work. Thrown into a war? Hiwa does her duty, for Konoha. And when she's forced into an arranged marriage? All there is to do is beat them to the punch and get married first. Thankfully, Genma Shiranui is willing to lend a hand. Literally. SI/OC

(Listen, LISTEN, it's about the slow burn, the longing, the communication (it both has and hasn't and isn't THAT great??), the messy way you fit three very different people together, it's so freaking good! Also, Kakashi is so Chaotic here this is my fave characterization of him, you can't change my mind. And Genma is a Good Boi who is Doing His Best, along with the Self-insert character who I LOVE SO MUCH, SHE'S FANTASTIC FNEIWOPAF. Sped past this fic in the speed of light, I could not stop reading!)(Honestly, read all of the author's fics, they're all really REALLY good!)

Building a Castle by WhisperingDarkness

Without needing anyone to tell her, Sakura knew that talking to someone no-one else could see or hear would make her weird. It would draw the bad kind of attention to her, something people could make fun of her for.

She didn’t like being weird, but she did like the voice. Her inner voice was helpful and it was a part of her that had always been there. The idea of it not being there would have been so much weirder than anything else.

It was during her first year at the Academy that Sakura realised the voice was not in her head at all, but that it came from a cloudy shape floating next to her.

(Basically a short-ish retelling of Hikaru no Go. Only with more Shogi and Nara and Ninja's)

(Sakura can see ghosts (I'm noticing this is a popular trope for her) and it's really cute haha! Her relationship with Tobirama is sweet and I just enjoyed reading this so much.)

[The Magicians]

So Long (And Thanks For All The Books) by IncompleteSentanc (Erava)

Ships: Quentin/Eliot, James/Julia, Quentin/Margo/Eliot

When Quentin is told Julia wasn't admitted to Brakebills, he realizes he has a drastic decision in front of him. If he tells Julia about magic, he'll have his mind wiped as well as hers. But he can't just leave her behind, either. He can't lose his best friend, and he can't let her life a life with her magical potential stolen away from her.

So he makes a third choice.

(Really, and I mean REALLY well-done canon divergent fic, this is the Quentin & Julia friendship fic I have been looking for forever. It explores so much of what could've happened and I just love Quentin here, I really really do. Characterization done so right. I also recommend the author's other works too. Been a follower of them for a long time, they're great.)

[Game of Thrones]

The Road to Victory by writing_as_tracey

Too late in preparing for the Night King and the Long Night, the last stand at Winterfell is close to falling. Bran takes desperate measures to ensure victory, and Jon, Sansa, and Arya pay the price for it in a time unfamiliar to them, on the cusp of another war. [GoT, time-travel fix it]

(I swear, this fic made me laugh so many times, all the Stark are BAMF and fantastic, and Rhaegar gets Wrecked lol. It's crack btw, and the plot goes in directions you'll never guess and it's amazing hahaha!)

[Haikyuu!!] (I am very very late to the fandom but here I am)

Ballare (To Dance) by MidnightSparks

Ship: Iwaizumi Hajime/Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, and platonic Kageyama & Kentarou (really love their friendship)

Kageyama’s first love is volleyball. His second, however, is ballet.

In one world, Kageyama Tobio is left behind by his parents. In this world, the existence of soulbonds keeps Kageyama’s parents in Miyagi and leaves Kageyama in the care of his grandma and grandpa.

(In which soulmates exist and that changes everything and nothing at the same time.)

(*buries face in hands* I have fallen for this ship so hard and I can't get out fudge me. I understand now. Their DYNAMICS FIEWONPAF)

Kings of Tomorrow by bokubroya (liarielle)

Ship: Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru

On the eve of Tobio’s 16th birthday, he counts down the seconds to midnight, and emerges with Oikawa Tooru’s name on his wrist.

It’s been two years since then, and Tobio thought they had an understanding. A silent, never spoken about understanding that this thing between them is nothing, and they’re going to pretend it doesn’t exist.

Of course, it’s just like Oikawa to change the game and leave Tobio wondering what comes next.

(I am WEAK for soulmate fics between these two, I don't even really like soulmate fics half the times what is WRONG WITH ME-)(Please suffer with me, I'm begging you. Its a good fic, thumbs up.)

[Crossover]

Honey and Magic by JustARatherVerySillyWriter, White_Squirrel for Super Carlin Brothers

Fandoms: Matilda (yeah you read that right), Harry Potter

Everyone knew Matilda was a rather extraordinary child, but even she didn't know she was a witch. Matilda Honey receives her Hogwarts letter in the year of the Triwizard Tournament, and soon, she will leave her unique mark on the magical world.

(Do I even need to explain how amazing it is to have Matilda in the wizarding world? And Matilda is a HUFFLEPUFF AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL THIS FIC IS GREAT PLEASE READ!!!)

An Eye for an Eye by DpsMercy

Fandoms: The Magnus Archives, Welcome to Night Vale

In which Jonathan Sims is not from the UK but instead, if you took his origins and turned them sideways twice then flipped them over, he technically would be from the US, the town of Night Vale specifically. Elias can’t do shit about it and gets a headache and slowly creeping madness instead.

(Look, I know probably everyone has read this because if they haven't, what have you been DOING with your lives??? Jon interning at Night Vale is Incredible, nothing phases this man, it's Delightful. I laughed so many times reading this, I'm not even kidding right now. Read or perish.)

The Favour by R_Cookie

Fandoms: Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Ship: Original Percival Graves/Harry Potter

Percival is ten years old when his grandfather tries to tell him that he's ensured the greatness of the Graves legacy for him, that he ought to be eternally grateful - but the explanation is hijacked by a stranger who manages to intimidate Chester Graves with an ease never seen before.

or: Hadrian (Harry) Potter is the Master of Death, who grants Graves a boon. Nobody could have known that the Deathly Hallows didn't turn you so much into the 'Master of Death' as into the anthropomorphic personification of Death. And so, Death becomes Percival's guardian angel, and Percival does not spit out his cereal.

(Look, I don't know how I stumbled back into the FBAWTFT fandom either, it just happened and I'm grateful for that. Otherwise, I wouldn't have found this amazing fic. Their relationship is slow and strange and I just love how Percival is characterized here. Also, one of the tag promises that it deviates from canon so I am really, really excited for that! XD)

baby that's what i do by natanije

Fandoms: Naruto, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!

"Are you telling me," Hidan exclaims, incredulous, "that you collect money all this time to give to orphans?!"

Kakuzu pauses. He blinks a few times.

"Huh. I guess I do."

(Tsuna reincarnates as Kakuzu and it's HILARIOUS. HE'S SUCH A MOM HAHAHA)

#Fanfiction #AO3 #Fic Rec #Fic Rec List #Podcasts #The Magnus Archives #Supernatural #Avatar The Last Airbender #Naruto #The Magicians #Game of Thrones #Haikyuu!!#Crossover #Matilda #Welcome to Night Vale #Harry Potter #Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them #Katekyou Hitman Reborn

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kindahoping4forever · 3 years

Text

Under The Christmas Lights // Ashton Irwin

Cass and I are having a blast so we hope everyone has been enjoying Hoe For The Hoe-lidays as much as we are. Her Cal blurb for the day, Baby Please Come Home, is up at @cal-puddies and it is one of my favorites from her, so you should definitely check it out if you haven’t already. (And as always, links to all of this week’s blurbs are in the event masterlist below!) Stay tuned tomorrow for our last set of blurbs and our grand finale on Monday: a galaxybrain co-write I guarantee you do not want to miss.

Extra thanks to Cass for helping me figure out what this story wanted to be. The overall concept remained but the structure, character details and tone of it took on a life of its own and morphed drastically as I was writing it.

Warnings: Established slow burn with Neighbor!Ash, mentions of quarantine, a healthy helping of thirst and sexual tension, implied consensual voyeurism and exhibitionism, mutual masturbation

Word Count: 4048

Hoe For The Hoe-lidays Masterlist

Masterlist // Taglist and Ko-Fi linked above

Let me know what you think!

"Quite the festive display you have there."

He stops at the end of his driveway, popping an earbud out as he turns towards your voice. Your next door neighbor, Ashton, stands in his yard, looking at you expectantly as you sit on your front porch, gesturing towards the freshly hung Christmas decorations all along his house.

"Oh thanks! I'm actually not even done. Waiting on a few more pieces to be delivered, really trying to merry things up, you know?" He answers, turning to collect today’s mail.

"Oh really? Everything's already so bright and eye-catching… up so early too," you punctuate your evaluation with a sip of coffee.

He smiles at you and you’re almost embarrassed to say you feel your heart skip a beat. You admit you had a bit of a crush on him when you moved in last year and for a while it seemed plausible you could’ve ended up more than just friendly neighbors. But that hope was yet another thing 2020 took from you.

Even though you were home more because of quarantine, you understandably had to interact with him less and less; gone were the days of “accidentally” baking too many cookies and walking over to offer him a plate or hoping your mail gets misdelivered so he’ll have an excuse to come visit you. These days, your visits were relegated to socially distanced greetings over the backyard fence and happenstance meetings like this.

“Yeah… I know it’s early in the season but I thought after the year we’ve all had, a little extra Christmas cheer couldn’t hurt,” he shrugs. He looks like he’s about to elaborate but then he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket; he apologetically but sincerely says, “Have a good night” and then scurries back to his house before you can get another word in.

It’s another couple of weeks before your next encounter, one night when you’re bringing the garbage can back up the drive and you hear Ash’s voice greeting you from his side of the fence.

“Those decorations certainly escalated, didn’t they?” You ask, amusedly peering up at his colorful house; the flickering icicle lights on the trim were a new addition, along with a big glowing snowflake and star sitting on his balcony.

“Does that mean you like it?” He laughs delightedly, walking up his own driveway. Your brain involuntarily appreciates how he looks with the lights reflecting off the dark wool trench coat he’s wearing; his hair is a lot longer than the last time you saw him, beard much darker and fuller. He looks good. You try not to think about it.

“Very pretty… not anything I would put up, but it suits you,” you comment, hoping your tone landed on the right side of the line between flirty and rude; you’re so out of practice at this, you’re not quite sure.

He takes it in stride. “That’s fair,” he chuckles. “No decorations for you this year?”

“Oh, I’ve got a wreath on my door,” you gesture. “May or may not get a tree. Little touches like that, things just for me; that feels appropriate but full on decorating this year… it just doesn’t feel right, doesn’t feel true to what we’re all experiencing.”

He furrows his brow. “Do you think my decorations are dishonest?” He asks, looking interested in your perspective.

“Not yours specifically, lots of people in the neighborhood are doing the same thing, some started even earlier than you did,” you carefully try to explain. “It just feels like surrounding ourselves with these crazy festive decorations… it’s like we’re working very hard to convince each other, maybe even ourselves, that this year isn’t any different when that couldn’t be farther from the truth… it is different and it feels weird not to acknowledge that.”

You look up, hoping you haven’t offended him, that you don’t see like too much of a grinch; you find yourself surprised at how relieved you feel when he nods thoughtfully as he considers your point of view.

“I actually agree, people are definitely using the decorations as a bit of a coping mechanism,” Ashton states, leaning on the fence as he ponders. “But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I know for me, after spending so much time being upset that I was trapped in my house this year, I figured I should do what I can to make my house feel happy for once. Especially if I’m gonna spend Christmas alone in it.”

You marvel at how despite the heavy turn the conversation has taken, his face never darkens, his warm and cheerful aura never falters. “Oh. I actually hadn’t thought of it like that,” you admit, playing with the drawstring of your hoodie, wondering why you care that you’re feeling vulnerable around him. “I’ll be alone this year too. I guess it just doesn’t feel like Christmas to me so I don’t like reminding myself that it is that time of year. If that makes sense.’

He gives you a sad but empathetic look. “I totally get it. I felt like that for most of the year… birthdays, seasons changing… I didn’t want to admit any of it was happening,” he shares. “But I don’t know… not to seem like I have it all figured out, but if we can’t change how we react to the environment we’re in, I think there’s something to be said for changing the environment itself. It’s important to acknowledge what you feel but also letting in even a little positivity can do wonders.”

You offer him a soft smile, letting him know you appreciate his encouragement. “Even just seeing the wreath on my door every morning is a nice moment,” you confess.

Ash smiles back and you feel warmer than if you’d gone inside and cozied up in front of your fireplace. “See? A couple strings of lights, a little tree. Maybe break out with that big yellow Minion you put out on your lawn when you moved in last Christmas,” he teases, lightening the mood.

“OK, first of all, it’s not a Minion, it’s Woodstock from the Peanuts, thank you,” you laugh, shaking your head. “I’m surprised you remember that.”

“Well, it was quite the first impression,” he shrugs and you can’t help but notice how broad his shoulders look in that coat.

You lay in bed that night, the night’s events on a loop in your mind; you ended up standing outside and chatting over the fence for more than an hour. It was nice and stirred a sense of normalcy in you that you hadn’t felt in a long time. It stirred other feelings in you as well but you knew there wasn’t any sense in dwelling on that since it’d be a long time before either of you would be able to do anything about that.

A few days later, you hear a muffled murmur that sounds a lot like your name while you’re washing dishes; you look out the kitchen window to see Ashton waving at you from his patio. He’s shirtless and sweaty, having clearly just finished his afternoon yoga session. Not that you had taken to timing your kitchen chores to coincide with his workouts.

You signal to him to give you a minute and then you head out the backdoor to chat. “What’s up?” You say as casually as possible, willing yourself to keep your eyes trained on his face and not the sweat dripping over his defined muscles or how low his athletic shorts are hanging.

“Your house is looking nice,” he gestures at the colored lights you recently hung around your window frames. “Little touches, just for you, like you said. I like it.”

You beam at him, impressed that he remembered your words from the other night. “You were right, I do feel a bit brighter having put those up,” you share, stuffing your hands in your hoodie pocket to keep from fidgeting, thinking about how much you’d like to brush the curls out of his eyes.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he replies jovially. “I actually have something for you.” He gestures for you to back up as he ducks inside his backdoor, retrieving the package off his kitchen table; he walks back out and smiles when he sees you’ve also turned around so he can surprise you. He sets the box over the fence and returns to his patio; he waits a beat longer than necessary to give you the all clear, he had to give himself a second to appreciate your ass in those leggings.

You spin around and see a box containing an inflatable light up Minion wearing a Santa hat. “Are you kidding me?!” You burst out laughing, picking up the gift to inspect.

“Figured Woodstock could use a buddy,” he laughs, shrugging. “Ordered it when I came inside after our talk the other night, just in case you changed your mind about decorating.”

You feel yourself blush. “Wish I could offer you more than a smile and a thank you,” you blurt, before realizing how forward that sounded. “I mean, like a hug or dinner or something…” You laugh nervously and look to see him trying and failing to hold back a devilish smirk.

“Well. When the time is right, I’d love to take you up on that offer… for the hug or the something,” he flirts.

The next day, you make Christmas cookies and leave some in his mailbox when he goes for his morning run. When he comes to tape a thank you note to your front door, he catches a glimpse of you through the window, decorating the tabletop Christmas tree you bought for yourself and you share a nice moment.

You gave him your phone number that time pre-lockdown when he went out of town and you watered his lemon tree; he finally starts using it, texting you on and off throughout the day and it’s nice to feel like you finally have someone to share with.

It’s when you’re in bed at night, texting away, that you always wish you could share even more with him. Your phone says he’s typing a response and you turn over to stare across the room at your bedroom window, the one facing his bedroom window. His curtains are drawn but you can see the soft glow of a bedside table lamp illuminating the room; you wonder what color the lamp is. Wonder if he sleeps on the left or right side of his bed. Wonder what he’s wearing while he’s typing his messages to you. If he’s wearing anything at all. Wonder if he wants to ask you the same thing. You lay there, wondering, until your phone buzzes again and the cycle continues.

You carry on like this for the next couple of weeks, collecting feelings and building tension. A few days before Christmas, you hurry outside to collect the packages that were just delivered by the mailbox, rushing to bring them in before the holiday Zoom party you have planned with friends.

You stop to text your pals you’ll be a few minutes late when you hear a sharp gasp behind you. You turn and see Ashton at the end of his driveway, eyes poring over you in the fitted green velvet wrap dress you’re wearing.

“You sure cleaned up for the mail delivery?” He jokes, trying to recover how clearly affected he is by the sight in front of him. You realize it’s the first time in months he’s seen you in anything besides hoodies and lounge pants.

You laugh, walking to the fence. “I have a Zoom party to attend but I didn’t want these boxes sitting out here all night,” you explain, instinctively starting to touch your face out of nervousness before stopping yourself for the sake of the dark red lipstick you have on; you’re not used to wearing makeup these days.

“Well… you look fuckin’ incredible,” he breathes, making no attempt to disguise the way his gaze is travelling up and down your body. He runs his hand through his hair and clears his throat, willing himself to move on. “I won’t keep you, then. I just wanted to ask you something.”

You lock eyes with him and feel your heart speed up; usually you’d have a quippy reply to shoot back to him but today, all you can think of is the heat you feel between the two of you. Instead, you nod attentively, trying your best to act like your mind isn’t distracting you with daydreams of walking around to his side of the fence and leaping into his arms.

“I know we’re both alone for the holidays… wish I’d thought of this sooner, so we could’ve done something about Christmas, actually… but say if we were to properly quarantine - you know, like, no outside contact at all quarantine - would you want to spend New Year’s together?” He’s speaking quickly, rushing it out as if he’s afraid he’ll lose his nerve and yet he presents his proposal with an assurance that almost hypnotizes you.

You can’t keep from grinning ear to ear but you still try to play it cool. “That could be fun,” you answer, grateful. You joke, “God, I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t at a party for New Year’s, what do people even do to celebrate at home?”

Without missing a beat, he suggestively replies, “I’m sure we can think of something.”

You have fun with your friends on Zoom but in the back of your mind you can’t stop thinking about the way that Ash looked at you, the honest hunger in his eyes. You keep your curtains open much later than usual, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, wondering if the lights around the window will catch his eye and he’ll stop to try and catch a glimpse of you.

New Year’s can’t get here fast enough as far as you’re concerned but time feels like it’s moving slower than ever. Christmas finally arrives and you wake up bright and early to Zoom your family to open the presents they sent you. Afterwards, you decide to give yourself the gift of going back to sleep; when you wake up a few hours later, you tidy up the living room, gathering the trash bags of torn wrapping paper and ribbons to take out to the garbage.

You step outside and note Ashton isn’t on his patio like he is most mornings; you’re just about to head back inside when you hear a warm “Merry Christmas” from over the fence.

You turn to see him wearing a smile brighter than his extravagant Christmas lights display and yours combined. “How’s your morning?” He asks earnestly.

You smile back. “It’s good! Slept in a little, Zoomed with the fam. Lowkey but nice.”

“Ohhh. That’s why you weren’t at the window this morning,” he muses. You look at him quizzically and a sheepish look washes over his face. “I’ve maybe noticed that you seem to like tidying up the kitchen around the same time every morning… maybe sometimes when I’m ready to start my stretches, I’ll check to see if you’re at the window yet. Maybe sometimes if you aren’t there yet, I’ll wait.”

You feel yourself flush, flattered. “Here I thought I was being voyeuristic when all along you’re just an exhibitionist,” you smirk.

He chuckles knowingly. "And you're leaving your curtains open all hours of the night for aesthetic reasons?"

You're surprised you don't feel embarrassment, just a sense of pride and overwhelming desire. "You're welcome," you say coyly.

Completely devoid of self-consciousness or hesitation, Ash says seriously, "I'd give anything to come over there and kiss you right now. Touch you. Just feel you."

Your breath catches but you manage to get out, "Six days. Just gotta get through this week. Somehow."

The interaction plays over and over in your mind throughout the course of the day: the confident way he told you he wanted you, the way his gaze seemed to devour you entirely, the simultaneous relief and ache you felt knowing that the yearning that’s been threatening to overtake you has him floundering too.

Six days is a long time, especially when you’ve not so much as grazed another person since the beginning of the year, not to mention you’ve been waiting to get to this place with Ash for over a year.

The idea enters your mind while you’re cleaning up your dinner dishes, peering out the kitchen window he’d freely admitted to using to perform for you. You slip out to the garage, finding the box with your usual Christmas decorations much more easily than you expected. You glance at his living room window, ensuring he’s occupied before heading up to your bedroom to set your plan in motion.

You add as many strings of lights to your bedroom window as you can fit: colored ones, white ones, blinking ones, the ones that get slowly brighter and then dim back down. You stand back and nod to yourself, pleased with your work. You’d certainly call this eye-catching.

You feel more excited than nervous when you see it’s already around the time that Ashton usually heads upstairs for the night. You see the light in his room go on and you wait impatiently, just long enough for you to wonder if you didn’t go far enough with your display. You jump as your phone buzzes on your nightstand with a text message.

“Feeling extra festive tonight?”

You chew your lip, weighing how to play this. “Wanted to be sure I had your attention.”

He types for what feels like a lifetime but all he ends up responding with is: “Oh?”

You push yourself off your bed and go stand in front of your window, responding, “I think I’ve figured out how we get through the next week.”

You see him through his window, shirtless and in his boxers, laying on the bed with his phone. He reads your message and runs his hand over his beard, lost in thought; his head turns towards the direction of your house, pondering, when he notices your illuminated figure. You see him sit straight up and stare in disbelief as it dawns on him that you’re standing at the window, dressed in a lace lingerie set that has him almost feeling dizzy from how fast the blood is rushing to his cock.

He walks over to his own window, needing a closer look; he groans as he takes in every detail: how the red color of the bra and panties contrasts against your skin, how the black lace trim accentuates your curves, how the strappy detailing of the underwear present you as a Christmas gift meant just for him to unwrap. The lights around your window cast a glow around you, making you look like even more of a holiday fever dream come to life.

His eyes meet yours and you hold his gaze as you run your hands slowly down your body; you start by trailing down your neck to the straps of your bra, tracing along the lace outline with your fingers. You give your breasts a firm squeeze as you run your palms over the cups, stopping to use your thumbnail to tease your nipples until they poke through the thin material. Your fingers dance down your torso, swirling around the lines of your belly, pulling at the waistband of your bottoms. You tauntingly skip over your hips entirely, moving to caress your thighs.

Your phone buzzes again and you pause your show to reach for it. “Wish it were me,” Ash’s confession reads.

“In my mind, it is,” you reply, sitting your phone aside to dip into your panties. You lick your lips, in awe of how aroused you are, how aroused you’ve been since you decided to create this situation.

Ashton gulps and if he wasn’t so blinded by lust, he would’ve laughed at how audible the sound was in his ears. He wants to text you back, wants you to know how he’s dying for this week to pass so he can ravish you with the attention you deserve, the attention he should’ve given you a long time ago. But he also doesn’t want your hand to stop moving inside your underwear, so he waits.

You spread your wetness around, teasing yourself slowly. You considered bringing your bullet vibe to the window with you but you figured you were going to be overwhelmed enough and you weren’t going to need any help getting off. You close your eyes as you trace around your clit, not allowing yourself to put much pressure on it just yet, not willing to risk having this be over too soon.

He sees you throw your head back in pleasure, eyes fluttering shut, lips swollen from sucking them between your teeth and he can’t take it anymore. He pulls his cock out through the hole in his boxers and starts stroking, exhaling in relief at how instantly good it feels; he spits in his hand to ease the friction at first but it only takes a few tugs for precum to start trickling from his tip. He groans and pumps faster, knowing this won’t take long.

You press a fingertip inside yourself and moan a lot louder than you expected; you open your eyes and notice his stare remains unwaveringly focused on you, only now his hand is working his cock. He moves rapidly up and down his shaft, seemingly unconcerned with taking it slow. Part of you wishes his movements would slow down so you could get a better look at his dick but you also love that he’s seemingly so turned on by the thought of having you that he needs immediate gratification.

He tries to keep up with you, matching you stroke for stroke as you continue working yourself up, hand speeding up inside your panties, hand pawing at your clothed breast. His rough grip catches on one of the veins running down his cock and he chokes out a strained curse; he notices your mouth keeps forming a perfect O shape as you react to your self pleasure and he lets out his own whimper as he imagines how heavenly your sounds must be.

“I can’t wait to hear you when I make you cum for me.” You softly whine as you read his latest text. You’re nearly there and your head is spinning at the deliberate nature of his words: “When” he makes you cum “for him.” You rub hard at your clit and feel that familiar burning ache building in your core. You swear your wetness increases tenfold as you feel the pulsing begin.

Ashton’s cock leaps in his hand as he witnesses your body tense and shake as your orgasm washes over you; he notices your lips murmuring something and the thought enters his mind that you could be saying his name. He hopes you are.

You’re still waiting for your heart rate to settle, realizing there’s no way it will as long as you’re watching Ash pull at his cock like that. One hand flies over his length, the other firmly clutching his balls; his hips start to move, fucking into his hand as he nears the edge. You’re captivated watching his abs tense, fluttering with intensity until suddenly they’re being coated with cum. The ropes streak his skin and you decide it’s too soon to text him to share how badly you want a taste.

He hangs his head in exhaustion, briefly ducking away from the window to grab a tissue off the dresser; he cleans himself off, tucks his cock back in his boxers and finally looks back up at you. You smile softly at each other, though you’re not sure of the tone; it’s not exactly shy and it’s not entirely wistful. Whatever it is, it’s nice. Hopeful? Satisfied. For now.

You text him, “It’s after midnight now. 5 days.”

You see him shaking his head, smiling as he types. “Still too far away. Same time tomorrow?”

You grin, shooting off your response before blowing him a kiss goodnight. “Still too far away. Meet you here after yoga tomorrow.”

————-

Taglist issues again so my apologies if you get notif’d more than once (or not at all)

@mymindwide @suchalonelysunflower @pxrxmoore @loveroflrh @ghostofmashton @sexgodashton @feliznavidaddycal

@castaway-cashton @ashtonlftv @cashtonasfuck @megz1985 @ashdork-irwin @angelicfluffs @findingliam-o @youngbloodchild @irwinsbetch @everyscarisahealingplace

@wiildflower-xxx @metalandboybands @realisticnotes @makeamovehemmings @golden166 @burstintocolor

@mfartzzz @babyoria @petunias-pet @youngblood199456 @notinthesameguey @seanna313 @zhangyixingxing1 @stardust-galaxies @zackoid

@lovelybonesetc @xsongxbirdx @justhereforcalum @ashtonangst

@laura66sos @calumrose @karajaynetoday @pilunb @jazzyangel242 @babylon-corgis @heyheyhaleyd @calmsweetcreature

@spicycal @talkfastromance4 @holystxne

@meetmedowntown @myloverboyash

@irwindoll @cheekysos @carrielfisher @lukedorkyhemmings @creampiecashton @lovelywordsblog

@trix-arent-for-kids @uh-huhh-honey @tobefalling @aladyofalbion @likehuhdude

@curlycalums @cxddlyash @reddesert-healourblues

@fedorable-killjoys @iamcalumswhore @i-like-5sos @Too-et-moi215

@photochic18 @kouska901 @Indermeow @dantord

#5sos smut #5 seconds of summer smut #Ashton irwin smut #Ashton irwin fic #holiday smut #Ashton smut #smut #kh4f fic #Under The Christmas Lights #Kindahoping4forever #cass and crystal present: hoe hours #cass and crystal present: hoe for the hoelidays #i literally just finished writing this and read it for the first time while formatting #hahahahaha what the fuck this fine #i have been EXHAUSTED the past couple days so i legit do not remember writing the last third of this and I am shocked maybe even scandalized #so that happened lmao #Feedback is appreciated #see you for more hoe-ing tomorrow clowns!

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Fact or Fiction

Warnings: non-consent (fingering, toys, anal, vaginal, somniphilia)

This is dark!Ransom and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your publisher has died and now you must deal with new management

Note: This came to me out of no where but it was a ride yall. I wanted to write some somniphilia so get ready for some sleep action. Remember to read the warnings my guys and enjoy yourselves. Another double dick fic day.

Sidenote: it is a bit odd to write smut when your bf is listening to barenaked ladies lol

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

It was funny how things could change in such a short time. More often, it was tragic. Deep in your gut, you had the feeling this change would be the latter.

You stood in the elevator, counting the floors in dread. A month ago, you felt much differently on your ascent. That was a day full of hope. A young writer on your way to meet THE Harlan Thrombey, manuscript in hand. You’d left even more jubilant than you arrived. He loved it and hadn’t shied away from saying so.

Now he was dead and you feared so too were your hopes of a published book. This day you were to meet with another Thrombey. Ransom Drysdale, his grandson, had inherited the company to the surprise and chagrin of many, including his very own uncle.

You couldn’t disagree with Walt. Everyone, especially him, expected him to take Harlan’s place. But he didn’t and he was gone now, buried in resent and jealousy. None had seen him since the funeral. Or so you heard. The publishing business could be almost as dramatic as its fictions.

Top floor, you stepped out and were surprised to find that Deb, the former grey-haired receptionist, had been replaced with another. Younger, blonder, and more concerned with her cellphone than the ding of the elevator. You walked up to her round desk and waited for her to look up. She didn’t.

You cleared your throat.

“Hello, I have a one o’clock with Mr. Drysdale,” You said. She nodded and giggled at her phone. “Excuse me…” You looked around and found a rose gold name placard. “...Selina.”

“Fine, go on,” She shrugged. “No one’s in there. Knock first.”

You sighed and glanced around. There were a few editors you recognized from before and they peered over at the receptionist with open detest. You passed her perch and wove between the desks. You assumed, knowing you wouldn’t get an answer from the oblivious blonde, that Ransom had claimed his grandfather’s former office. The letters printed across the clear glass door assured you. That was new too.

You knocked on the frame, afraid to shatter the door. Ransom was squinting at his monitor and didn’t even look over as he waved you on and called to you.

“Come in.” He shook his head as he huffed at the screen. You entered nervously. “What is it this time?”

“Mr. Drysdale,” You greeted, “I’m here for our appointment.”

His brows drew together as he looked up. He hit a key and turned to you. He sat back in his leather chair as he leaned on the arm.

“Uh, yeah,” He blinked as he lazily reached over and grabbed a manuscript from the pile atop his desk. “Laura?”

You corrected him and he fished out the proper print and sat up. He opened it but didn’t even pretend to read a single word on the page. He smiled as he shifted closer to his desk.

“Close the door,” He said. “Sit. This shouldn’t take long.”

That didn’t sound good. You did as he said and took the stiff seat across from him. The former cozy leather had been replaced with cold acrylic. He tapped his fingers on the pages and ran his tongue beneath his bottom lip.

“Well, seeing as we’re doing a bit of redecorating around here, we decided to do the same with our writers. Streamline, prioritize,” He began. “My grandfather was a smart man, talented author, but he valued ‘style’ too much over ‘marketability’.”

Your chest tightened and you tried not to show your discomfort.

“Of course,” You said. “It makes sense. New owner, new directions. I understand.”

“Oh, great,” He smirked. “Then you also understand that the contract my grandfather, god rest his soul, promised you, must be reviewed before we go through with the signing?”

“Review?” You frowned.

“It’s the same for all our new writers,” He assured you. “My editors are combing over every word of your manuscript before we throw the ledger across the table.”

“He already read my manuscript, your editors too. I don’t--”

“He’s dead and most of his editors are gone or have taken on new responsibilities,” He interjected. “As you said, new directions.”

“Alright.” You sighed. “And so when will I be informed of the results of this review?”

He tilted his head, amused by your tone as he leaned back once more. He grabbed a pen and tapped it on his lip as he thought.

“Couple weeks.” He said.

“A couple weeks? I’ve already waited over a month for a contract. Now I get the circumstances required it, as tragic as they were, but with all due respect, your offer isn’t the only one I have on this manuscript.” You argued.

“Lesser publishers, no doubt, but you understand that under our submissions guidelines, you cannot accept an exterior deal until we have made an official decision.” He countered. “So, you can wait the three weeks before you march down to Penguin or whatever lowbrow manufacturer you’ve been talking with.”

You stared at him. He was very much unlike his grandfather. Harlan, for all his accomplishments, had an air of humility. Ransom, for all he hadn’t achieved, was entirely arrogant.

“So, you’re holding my book hostage?” You asked.

“I’m allowing you an opportunity provided you have patience,” He returned. “I could say no right now and send you out without a hope of ever signing with us.”

The curve of his lips irked you, along with the loose weave of his sweater. He didn’t dress like the owner of a publishing house; he dressed like a spoiled frat boy. You were quiet as you thought about the much lower offer from Charter books. Modest but respectable. And there were many companies who you had yet to approach.

You stood suddenly and marched over to his desk. You reached over and slid your manuscript across the desk and closed it. You gathered it up and tucked it under your arm.

“I’ll take the no over your games, Mr. Drysdale.” You said as your heart beat wildly. This was either a moment you’d deeply regret or gloriously relive. “I hardly see how sitting on a stack of books will help your profitability.”

He blinked and his smirk fell. Then he scoffed and tossed his pen down.

“Well, you sure are saving me a lot of work,” He mused. “One less pile of kindling hanging around will save my editors hours.”

“Mr. Drysdale,” You said as you backed away from him “I may not have inherited an empire but I think I can see as clear as any that you are out of your depth behind that desk.”

A glimmer of anger broke through his facade and his jaw ticked. He was quick to reclaim his maddening smirk and he shrugged.

“You’re right,” He remarked. “You’re just a writer. Unpublished, at that.”

You nodded and swallowed the insult. You spun and swept back through the door, certain to leave it open. You strode past the reception as she watched some Insta story on a new eye shadow palette. Even Harlan’s name couldn’t atone for buffoonery.

🖊️

Charter Books wasn’t far from Blood Like Wine Publishing. For the second time that week, you were in the heart of the business district. You were tired of waiting. If Charter wanted to publish your work without fanfare, you would take it over waiting on a whim.

Charles Halford was expecting you and as was your habit, you were early. The building didn’t bring you the same joy as Blood Like Wine had, though now that you thought of it, any such optimism had disappeared. You would settle and hope that this was a back road to a mighty second book. If your luck was to take an upturn, it might even be a sleeper hit.

You were directed to sit along the small line of chairs outside Halford’s office. You balanced your manuscript on your knee as you waited. You fidgeted impatiently and hoped the offer was still open. The email had seemed hopeful and that a meeting was scheduled on such short notice was heartening.

You looked up as the door finally opened. Your heart dropped at the man who stepped out. Ransom’s eyes caught yours as he turned back to Halford and tossed some quip at him. His forced laughter turned your stomach. The men were chummy; too chummy. Was this foreshadowing?

“Anyway, I should get back to it,” Ransom announced. “Figured I’d swing by. Get a few pointers.”

“I’m sure you’ll be back for more,” Charles boomed. “Remember, left to right.”

Ransom rolled his eyes and shook Halford’s hand. He turned and winked at you as he left, a cheery farewell to the receptionist. Halford perked up as he noticed you and distracted you from the unease that bubbled in your stomach.

“Early as always,” He said. “Come on in. We’ll get started.”

“Thanks,” You stood and he gestured you ahead of him.

You entered his office and waited for him to sit before you did. He dug around for his copy of your manuscript and turned back to you. He didn’t open it as he plopped it on his desk.

“So, you’re still looking for a buyer, huh?” He asked.

“Well, you know there’s so many options,” You said. “I wanted to go somewhere my book fits.”

“Of course, and it’s a great concept,” He replied. “Really… but…”

“But…” You took a breath.

“Well, you know, we’ve had time to think too and we’re more akin to easy reads. Our clientele, they want something simple, straightforward. You have clever prose and intricate devices but… well, that’s not really who we’re selling to.”

“I don’t understand,” You said. “What changed? You made an offer and suddenly it’s just… gone?”

“Look, there’s lot of publishers out there who would be a better match I’m sure and in this era, self-publishing is growing.”

“A publishing house suggesting self-publishing?” You shook your head and stood. You were numb. “I can read between the lines as well as you can, Mr. Halford. Thank you for considering me. I won’t waste your time if you’ve made up your mind.”

“Hey,” He rose and reached across the desk. “There’s always the next book. Maybe one day, we’ll have a chance to work together.”

“I hope so,” You said as you swallowed the bitterness. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out this time,” He said.

“It’s… business.” You sniffed. “I get it.”

🖊️

Charter, Storey, Hackett. Every no made the prospect of a yes even less likely. Your future stared back at you with paid online articles and ridiculous blurbs. It was a living, a meagre one, but it wasn’t your dream. It was starting to seem like a nightmare.

Another rejection and you were ready to burn the damn manuscript. You marched into the lobby that fronted Lucian LLC. You just wanted to go home but if you did that, you’d just sit and sulk as you had for days before. So instead you followed the scent of roasted beans into the coffee shop along the east side of the lobby.

You ordered a skinny latte and found a table in the corner. You dropped the heavy print on the table before you set down your stemmed mug and flopped onto the chair. You leaned your elbows on the table and rubbed your forehead. A cup clinked across from yours and you sat up, startled by the figure before you.

“Long day?” Ransom asked.

You looked around confused.

“What?” You replied. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was walking by actually and I saw you through the window. Almost didn’t recognize you but… you look… tired.” He smirked and you rolled your eyes. “And I saw that manuscript in front of you and thought maybe we could have another chat.”

“I don’t want to talk about you reviewing my book until you decide you don’t want it,” You hissed.

“Okay, well, what if I told you we could have a yes or no by the end of our discussion, hmm?”

You squinted at him and ran your fingertips down the side of the hot mug.

“Why?”

“Why?” He repeated coyly.

“What changed your mind?”

“Look, can I help it that I feel a little bad about how it all turned out? Seeing you here, sulking, it really got to me.” He feigned pity.

“I wasn’t sulking,” You insisted. “I was taking a breather between all my meetings. There’s a lot of interest over my book.”

“Is there?” He pulled out the chair opposite you and sat. “Because I made a few calls and I’m pretty sure there isn’t.”

“You what?”

“A lot of people don’t wanna snatch a book out from under the Thrombey stamp,” He explained. “And as far as I’m concerned, we didn’t finish our negotiations.”

You chewed the inside of your lip and considered him. There was a twinkle in his eye. This man would make himself the bane of your existence until he could declare himself the victor. As it was, he might actually be the only prospect you had left.

“Fine. I guess I’m here already. If you want to talk, let’s talk,” You said.

His eyes sparked as they had back in his office.

“Alright,” He began tersely, “May I?”

He pointed to your manuscript and you slowly slid it over to him. He turned it and opened it. He bent over it dramatically as he read. You waited as he glossed over a few pages and sat up.

“Promising. I said so to the editors but you understand that it’s not all up to me.” He said. “It’s not that I don’t wanna publish you, I’m just being cautious. This company is my legacy.”

“It’s your grandfather’s legacy,” You affirmed.

He bit his tongue and blinked. He took a breath before he continued.

“Whatever,” He said. “It is my company now and I have to keep it alive. That means making smart decisions. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’m just a writer.” You shrugged.

He sighed and reached for his mug. He dribbled a little down his chin and onto his blazer. He swore as he looked down and set his cup back on the table.

“Could you grab some napkins?” He asked. “Shit.”

“Napkins?” You repeated. You knew he was the type to have help but you were not looking to be his nanny.

“Please,” He said sharply as he held up his wet hand. “If you don’t mind.”

You slid out of your chair and grumbled as you crossed the cafe. You pulled out a dozen serviettes from the dispenser and returned to him. You dropped them on the manuscript and he grabbed them impatiently. He wiped up the coffee and left the napkins crumpled beside his cup.

You lifted your own, the foam entirely flat now, and took a sip. The espresso was strong and your cheek twitched. You set it down as you tried not to cough. The caffeine further addled your nerves.

“So what exactly are you offering?” You asked.

“I went over my grandfather’s notes and spoke with my team. It wasn’t all impractical. We can honour the printing terms but may have to tinker with the numbers…” He began and you nodded.

You listened intently as he went over his points and referred to your manuscript several times, flipping pages back and forth. He suggested a sex scene to liven it up but that didn’t really fit the motif of a medieval mystery set in a monastery. That disagreement didn’t last long as he plowed through his terms.

As you listened, you sipped and your head began to ache from the excess of caffeine. Three coffees a day would do that to you. Your stomach flurried as well and you found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. You left the dregs of your latte untouched and touched your stomach.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Drysdale…”

“Ransom,” He corrected.

“Sorry but… uh, I don’t feel very well.” You said. “I think… I hate to do this but I think maybe we should reschedule.”

“Well, there’s not much else to say. I’m sure you could give me an answer before you race off.” He stood as you did.

You leaned heavily on the table and grabbed your manuscript. You took your bag and groaned.

“Really, I feel… sick.” You said. “I gotta go.”

“Wait, wait,” He followed as you stumbled past him. You weren’t sure what was happening. Maybe it was the leftovers you ate for dinner last night. “You okay?”

“F-fine,” You shook your head to ward off the haze at the edge of your vision. You checked your phone. “Look, I gotta catch the bus.”

“You sure you can handle that?” He was overly concerned for a man who had as good as laughed you out of your office. “I can drive you.”

“Why would you do that?” You stopped just outside the building.

“Because you’re sweating a lot and I think it’d be a lot quicker to drive than to wait around for transit,” He said. “But hey, your call.”

You stared at him and your head pulsed. You touched your forehead and nodded. “S-sure,” You accepted. “Thanks.”

“Hey, we’ll just take it out of your final offer,” He kidded.

🖊️

Ransom

She barely buckled her seat belt before she was out. She slumped in the seat and thumped against the door at the first corner. Ransom hadn’t expected it to take effect so soon but she had downed her latte quickly.

When she got up to grab the napkins, he sprinkled the foam with the powder and quickly sat back. The idea hadn’t occurred to him until he spotted her through the glass. The drugging, that was. The thought of what he would do to her had played over in his mind since their first meeting. He couldn’t just let a writer walk all over him like that. He was in charge now.

He glanced over at her as he pulled up his long drive. She was still out like a light. He had to admit, she wasn’t a great beauty but she had a charm about her. And she was perfect to test out his toys on.

He got out and rounded the car. He opened her door and undid her seatbelt. Her bag and manuscript flopped onto the floor as he lifted her. He closed the door with his foot and carried her up the short walk. She was entirely limp. Completely helpless. He smiled.

He took her to the basement. It had taken more than a year but it was finally ready. Oh and what timing. It was like she was sent to him, just asking for punishment. Her trite little mouth had earned her more than a place on the scholarly blacklist. He had to make sure she paid.

He set her down on the velvet couch and undressed her a piece at a time. He fondled her chest as he bared it and sucked on her nipples just a little. She didn’t move at all. He checked her breathing and carried on.

When she was naked, he played with her cunt. Spread her legs and poked his fingers inside as he looked her over. She was so tight his cock throbbed at the thought of her walls around him.

He lifted her from the couch and carried her to the special contraption he’d designed himself. He laid her over it on her stomach. The angled board had her ass raised and her legs dangling off the end. He secured her wrists and ankles with the straps to keep her from slipping. He wasn’t worried about resistance.

He moved her hips just slightly and reached under her to spread her pussy. He positioned her clit against the little bump beneath the leather. He took the remote in hand and turned the vibe on. The buzz filled the room and he watched her cunt quiver. He dragged his fingers along it and felt her arousal. She came within minutes.

He walked around her as he thought of what to do to her next. He wheeled over the machine in the corner. He carefully lined up the dildo with her pussy. He pushed it inside of her an inch at a time. He made her take all of it; a whole eight inches of rubber. She didn’t flinch though her breath shuddered.

He neared her side and lifted her eyelid. He only saw the white as she remained entirely unaware. He rubbed himself through his jeans and turned the vibe up and hit the button for the machine. The dildo moved in and out of her as the device whirred quietly. Her cunt made wet sounds as she was fucked helplessly.

He went behind her and watched it go in and out. He dialed it up just a little, her body jolting a little from each thrust. He tucked the remote in his pocket and strolled close to her head. He undid his pants and pulled his throbbing dick out. He rubbed it against her lips and smeared his pre-cum around her mouth.

He delved inside as he glanced back to the dildo. He held her head in one hand as his other dove into his pocket and increased the speed yet again. He began to rock his hips and soon kept time with the rubber. He sank so deep into her throat that she choked and her body spasmed. Still she didn’t wake and he could barely stop himself from cumming.

He pulled his cock out of her mouth and a trail of spit dribbled from her lips. He went to the machine and removed it from her glistening cunt. The leather-bound board was soaked with her cum already. It sent a thrill through him and his cock twitched. He growled and turned away as he resisted the urge to fuck her right away.

He went to the chest of drawers and opened it. He pulled out a bottle of lube and clear glass plug. He should start small, he told himself, but he wanted to see her stretch for him. He wanted her to feel him tomorrow.

He crossed to her and squirted the lube between her cheeks. He massaged it over her hole and mixed it with her natural juices. She was so wet he wasn’t sure he even needed the lube. He dipped his fingers inside her pussy a few times before he returned his attention to her ass.

He poked his index finger inside of her. She definitely was unused. He played with her and added another finger and then a third. She quivered as the vibe had her cumming yet again. He peeked up at her to make sure once more that she was still asleep. He didn’t need to be so paranoid. The pills would even have him out for the count.

He pulled his fingers from her ass and positioned the plug against her tight ring. He began slowly, pressing it just until she began to open and then retreating. He paused as he reached to stroke himself. He was so hard it hurt.

He kept on, each time her hole gaped just a little more around the plug. At its widest breadth, he heard a sleepy grumble escape her. He pushed it just a little more and it slipped in all the way. Her ring closed around its stem and he thought he would cum just at that sight.

He shuddered and calmed himself. He grabbed his cock and tapped the tip against the flat end of the plug. He guided it down along her folds and felt the vibration ripple through him as he brushed against the hidden vibe. He angled himself up to her entrance and held himself there.

He wiggled the plug and slammed into her as hard as he could. Her legs jolted and he thrust again with just as much force. He wanted her to feel it, even in her subconscious. He wanted her to suffer. He picked up a rhythm, violent and frantic as her cunt clung to him. She came and he grunted as he fought to restrain his own climax.

He gripped the plug and pulled it out slowly only to press it back in. He did it again and again as he fucked her. His heavy breaths swirled around him as he watched her asshole gape. He was on fire, desperate for release.

He stopped and removed the plug entirely. He held it by the stem and held it against her back as he slipped his cock out of her cunt. He eagerly entered her ass with a rumble. She was still so fucking tight. He lost it. He fucked her so hard, his special toy shook beneath her.

His voice got louder and louder as he every thrust sent a ripple through him. He snarled and pulled out suddenly. He stroked his cock as he rubbed the tip along her ass and spilled himself down her thigh. He would have to wait to cum inside her.

He let out a shaky breath as he let go of his cock. He pushed the plug into her ass again and backed away. He left the vibe on as he paced around the room and cracked his neck. A couple minutes and he’d be ready for another go. Maybe he could cum in her mouth this time. That was easy enough to clean up.

🖊️

You awoke with a start. You sat up on your couch and looked around your empty apartment. You winced as you felt an ache in your ass; your cunt too. You hissed and touched yourself gingerly. You glanced down; you wore the same clothes and there was nothing amiss but the thrum in your core.

You shook your head and rubbed your eyes. You could barely remember leaving the cafe but how had you ended up back here? You only remembered the headache and the horrible stomach ache.

You reached for your phone and found several notifications across the lock screen. Foremost was the email from Blood Like Wine Publishing. You opened it and quickly read through it.

‘...I am excited to work with you on your first novel and the company is eager to see this through to its greatest potential.

Hope you feel better and look forward to our meeting next Wednesday,

Ransom Drysdale Editor-in-Chief Blood and Wine Publishing’

You stare at the email in confusion. Had you said yes? Ransom offered you a drive home… then it was all black but you must’ve come to some agreement. You must have found your way into your apartment and passed out on the couch. So why didn’t you remember any of that?

#ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale x reader #knives out #dark fic #dark!fic #au #fic #one shot

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samsaintjames · 3 years

Text

okay so: fic recs

So this is gonna be really long and rambling (I'm sure), but we start with the basics.

If you're only ever going to read one and only one fanfic in your entire life you have to read Increments of Longing. It's a Jaina Proudmoore/Sylvanas Windrunner fanfic, but it's AU enough and so well written, that you probably do not actually need to know anything about Warcraft or World of Warcraft and the respective lore and backstory to enjoy it. Just look at it like a very good fantasy novel about an arranged marriage. [...]“But you would tell me what you want?” Sylvanas asked in a voice that was far too controlled to be truly nonchalant."[...] I could not even tell you why, but this line there from the second chapter? It gives me feels (and I could not even tell you what exactly I'm feeling, but yeah).

Anyway, read it (I've read it twice now)!

Okay, from the same author I also whole-heartedly recommend you search the mountain. Which is another Jaina/Sylvanas story, again AU, with Jaina being Drust. You do not necessarily need background info - there even is a map of Kul Tiras included - but you'd probably benefit from it. Particularly the early chapters, when you get to know Arthur, made me laugh and giggle quite a bit, even though the story itself is - since it's about the Drust and a civil war - a bit of a horror story/military fiction crossover I'd say. Good read.

And my kinda guilty pleasure (also from the same author) is no end in sight. It's a story about Suramar (and healing). And when I started playing WoW towards the end of Legion, shortly before the Argus patch, I absolutely fell in love with that region/city and the Nightborne - probably because I wasn't stuck on the repetitive content of it for forever lol. So this story about Thalyssra and Jaina and the other Nightborne NPCs is awesome. I was actually considering to also write about Jaina/Thalyssra, simply because just imagine the insane magic those two could do when working together (I mean they kinda do in Nazjatar), but knowing me, this will probably never get past the conception stage.

Inevitability is also absolutely amazing (it's another - you probably guessed it - Jaina/Sylvanas AU, with both of them being professors - considering I've been working in academics for the last 15 years that's kinda my jam). And I have a lot of thoughts about it, which for the sake of not boring people to death I'm gonna abbreviate (but well I'm ready to talk people to death if they are interested). One: I'd love to meet this Sylvanas. Two: I'd never have the guts to talk to her, but I'd totally want her to take me home lol (and I'm not even sure I'm gay). Three: life at universities around here is very different from - I'm assuming - the US.

(Also if you're into AUs, go check Fearless - which features witches and ghosts and is fun.)

Okay, so now we're coming to how I actually fell into the whole Jaina/Sylvanas thing. It's because of Daugthers of Sea and Snow. Which is a Frozen/WoW crossover featuring Jaina/Elsa I found by looking through Frozen Fanfics when I was bored around the time Frozen 2 came out and then completely forgot - it was still work in progress then; I found the still open tab in my browser like four to three weeks ago, saw it was finished now and devoured the whole thing. And while I was there, I looked at the other things that author had written - and that's how I stumbled upon Jaina/Sylvanas, like two years late. Which is probably kinda ironic, since I played BFA a lot (mythic raiding beginning with Uldir), loving the Storyline in Kul Tiras and being absolutely enamoured with Jaina especially after her Warbringers vid (I still sometimes humm the song) - and liked Sylvanas since Warcraft III. Sometimes life is weird.

So and after that I jumped down this particular rabbit hole while doing a thrilling backflip. There is an assortment of other stories that I very much enjoyed.

A Touch of Arcane - the first fix of political marriage AU for Jaina and Sylvanas that I got (I think it was actually the first Jaina/Sylvanas fic I read period). And boy did I get hooked to that.

Along the same lines but different are Worth the Trouble and Two Rooms.

If you're into AUs for that pairring, you'll find a lot of intereseting ones from the Author katofthenorth. The one about diving is really cute.

Stories not yet finished that I thoroughly enjoyed so far (most of them political marriage AUs - lol I'm a sucker for those okay, it's not my fault!):

Ink and Honor is amazing. I came for Jaina/Sylvanas, but I love the Thalyssra/Vereesa storyline just as much - it's sooooo cute, like even Genn ships them ^^.

threads of silk.

climb the walls.

Measure of the world. They aren't married (yet, it's a possibility though I'd guess and I haven't even reached the end of the so far posted chapters yet, but enjoyable read nonetheless).

The Lighthouse. Amazing AU, I love the idea - and it's not political marriage! I cannot wait for the next chapters.

I've dug too many holes into this thawing ground. This story gave me a lot of feels too.

Honorary mentions for stories that I'm assuming might never be finished, but are amazing reads.

Shot in the Dark. Fuck that is awesome! Secret agents and spies - okay technically snipers, but it's the feeling that counts, right? (and Tyrande in a suit is a nice bonus).

Trust in Me. Sylvanas as Jainas bodyguard AU.

Okay so... I still have like 250 tabs or something ridiculous open in my browser (that's not overstating it, it's fact, in fact I might be understating it at this point and it could already be 300) and I haven't obviously read all the amazing Jaina/Sylvanas fanfics out there yet, particularly short ones or one shots or series might have gotten lost, since I usually filter for high wordcounts only. So, if anyone feels stuff is missing, it does not mean I didn't like it, it could be I've just not read it yet.

And now for something completely different.

I want to point towards one of the coolest crossover stories/series I've ever read: Felicitas. Which is an Arrow/Highlander/Raven crossover that imagines Felicity as an ancient immortal. And it's just soooooo good, I've been following it for years. (That being said, I never watched Arrow past season 2 and I probably never will considering what I know about how the story of the show continues, I've been burned once with Bering and Wells, I'm not going there again. But that's totally fine, because Felicitas also only goes as far as Season 2.)

And then there's still waters and quiet men. I'm not even sure what to say about it. The sheer lunacy and the insane escalation present in this story should not have amused me as much as it did I think, but I remember laughing tears when reading this, because while it's actually really sad that some people might find this kind of behaviour of male characters in fiction normal, it was abso-fucking-lutely hilarious in my opinion. (That said, I've probably only read it halfway, but still, it's hilarious! Well if you have the same maybe weird sense of humor I have anyway.)

New Beginnings is a FemShep/Liara crossover with Stargate SG-1. So it's combining my favourite TV show with my favourite Videogame of all time. And it's brilliant.

So yeah that's my fic recs for the time being. If you just want a tl;dr, go read Increments of Longing. (I just cannot stress enough how amazing that story is.)

I'm only tagging Jaina/Sylvanas since most fics are about them.

#fic rec #fic recs #Jaina Proudmoore/Sylvanas Windrunner #sylvaina

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nbrook29 · 4 years

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💞 My ultimate Sobbe fic recs 💞

Recently, I have gone through Robbe/Sander tag on ao3 and I decided to compose a list of fics that are absolute gems for me. A few disclaimers first:

✔ I didn’t include works in progress (WIPs), however I did include fics that are only on tumblr

✔ the order of the fics below is random

✔ this is the list of my personal favorites so if your favorite fic is not on the list it doesn’t mean it’s bad or that I consider it bad - we just vibe with different things :)

✔ if there’s a fic on this list that you decided to give a shot and loved it, please remember about leaving a comment under it to let the author know that

✔ I’ve been trying to add the “read more” thingy but it doesn’t show, I’m sorry, I know long posts are annoying af

under 1k

we’re keeping it simple by noobishere | G

Summary: Sander comes over unannounced and attacks Robbe’s very person (a.k.a the one where Sander teases Robbe on Eenvoud)

This is a guaranteed mood lifter. It’s short, sweet, to the point, and oh so funny. The banter. And I’d die to see that in the show.

1k - 5k

Fizzy Colas by Foxsake5 | M

Summary: Let’s say this is a clip (hopefully not as short as the standard 1:40 of this season) with Sander as the main on a ‘bros night out’ 🍻

This author is my queen/king alright? They take a simple idea and turn it into the most lovely/cute/soft story. This fic is exactly that. Sobbe’s chemistry here is out of this world and the banter is to die for.

high for this by flowersmaze (@bowieskam) | G

Summary: In which Sander remains a Flirt™ and in love with Robbe even when he can’t feel his face after a medical procedure

The summary says it all. Loopy Sander is the cutest and funniest thing.

Pull Me from the Dark by TheOceanIsMyInkwell (@theoceanismyinkwell) | T

Summary: Sander discovers that Robbe has recently been prescribed antidepressants, and Robbe opens up to him about the night he almost stepped off the bridge. Only love will show how much they’ve grown and pull them through.

This time, the boys talk about Robbe’s mental state which is unusual in fics. This oneshot is communication 101. And this line is just 👌🏻 “But after the dust of their first kiss and their first vows of commitment settled around them, Robbe took a look at the space in which he floated and realized, somewhere along the line, that finding the love of your life doesn’t fix you.”

diminuendo by noobishere

Summary: Waking up feels like an ordeal. His eyes are heavy, arms a dead weight, he isn’t sure if his limbs are even in the right places, but eventually, Sander comes to. (a.k.a a take on how Sander fairs after Robbe left for school.)

Sander’s POV after Dinsdag 7:27. It’s a great insight into his headspace during that time. This could be a scene in the show because it fits so well.

you’re wonder under summer sky by nothingbutniall | M

Summary: Two city boys go camping. What could go wrong? (Everything, apparently.)

Those boys are a chaotic mess okay? They’re such dorks. This fic has the best kind of grumpiness there is and sobbe is written so in character here.

if we can make it through december (maybe we’ll make it through forever) by nothingbutniall | G

Summary: Robbe and Sander at the Christmas market.

Can you imagine those two dorks at the Christmas market? Well you don’t have to anymore because this fic is everything you need and more. And this line “Couldn’t,” Sander sulks. “You can’t hold hands properly with mittens on.” makes me go all gooey inside every.single.time 😍

A New Sunday Feeling by Foxsake5 | M

Summary: Sander before Robbe: Ugh, Sundays 😒 Sander after Robbe: 😏🥺🥰

The way this author writes sobbe’s intimate moments is just pure talent. They have such way with words.

memories painted with much brighter ink by nothingbutniall | G

Summary: Saint Nicholas is the perfect excuse for an evening of gifts and banter with the flatshare. (Basically all five of them being cute together, and then Robbe and Sander being cute with just the two of them.)

This is the perfect fic for an October evening, when Christmas is just around the corner and you’ve just made yourself a cup of coffee and want to read some heart-warming well-written christmassy fluff.

5k - 10k

Let’s Dance by msleviss (@sander-driesen) | G

Summary: Robbe and his friends go to a club to check out Amber’s DJ cousin.

THIS PERSON PREDICTED DJ SANDER Y’ALL. And Robbe thirsts over him. And there is an instant connection. And Robbe dances. And it’s so cute.

video phone by tokyometropolis (@luludemauryyy) | E

Summary: AKA OH MY GOD, THEY WERE QUARANTINED…except not together, because life is cruel. Thankfully it’s 2020 and when Robbe has an…er…intense dream about Sander in the middle of the night, all he has to do is press one button and Facetime him about it. Thing is…sometimes FaceTiming isn’t enough.

Look. I get that smut fics are not everyone’s cup of tea. And that’s totally fine. But. If you’re looking for a well-written smut that’s in character and where you can feel the love between the characters, this is it. Hands down. Sorry not sorry 💁🏼‍♀️

10k - 20k

our camp of dreams by robbesanderx (@robbesdriesen) | M

Summary: a summer camp!AU where robbe and sander are both co-counselors

Misunderstandings lead to pining. Teenage angst at its finest. I really like camp stories, it’s my thing.

Falling For You by silver_etoile (@azozzoni) | T

Summary: Robbe only knows one thing about football: that Sander Dreisen is the hottest player on the FC Utrecht team. When Jens drags him to a match, the last thing Robbe expects is to meet someone so perfect, and it’s all he can do not to mess it up, but will he succeed?

Sobbe in a different setting with a bit different dynamic yet still having that special something. It’s a nicely written story of the development of their relationship, first meeting, falling in love, ups and down, all the best things in fics. And Sander as a soccer player is a pretty 🔥 concept (and I think Robbe agrees).

This isn’t our first time around by noobishere | E

Summary: One moment they are in the kitchen of their shared apartment, the next, they’re in this strange but familiar room.(a.k.a the au in which they accidentally go hopping through multiple universes)

The universe takes matters into their own hands and shows those silly boys that they are meant to be. Sign me up for the ride.

Coffee and Croques by peaceoutofthepieces (@peaceoutofthepieces) | G

Summary: Sander works at the on-campus coffee shop with Eliott, and he might just have a crush on the cute boy in the brown coat.

I’m a sucker for coffeshop fics. There is just something so good about them. This one is the coffeshop!AU that sobbe deserves. Oh the pining, and the secretive looks, the silly boys, and a pinch of Elu. Me likey ☕

The finest of the meadow by allforyoumylove | M

Summary: The universe brings two lonely boys together in a flowering meadow. They fall for each other fast and hard among delicate daisies, warm summer breezes, and shooting stars.

This is magical. My comment on the work was “So soft, so beautiful, so THEM, ugh.” and I MEANT that. This is just the right amount of sweetness. This is a must read. I’m not messing around.

two side of the same coin series by MajorAccent (@acespaceacepilot) | E

Summary: the valleys and mountains of sander’s bpd

How the boys handle Sander’s ups and downs. Robbe being the best boyfriend ever. I love how good he is for Sander, being there for him, not treating him like a baby, and not controlling him. How much he tries to make it at least a little bit easier for him. If you don’t want to read explicit stories, at least give the first part a try since it’s not E rated.

Zaterdag 9:58 by Foxsake5 | M

Summary: What happened after the croissants dropped to the floor 🥐🤭💕

I meant it when I said Foxsake5 has great way with words. Every single piece of theirs is just “chef’s kiss”. This fic is a definition of a domestic fic. Oh, and it happened. Totally. It’s my headcanon now.

its an unrequited love by eggsntoast | G

Summary: Sander works part-time at a museum every Sunday. Robbe is a frequent visitor.

A Sander POV fic. I was sold from the beginning. The development of their relationship here is so cute, and they’re being so stupid with their pining instead of just talking to each other and you just want to shake them but at the same time you’re rooting for them so hard. Oh and did I mention pining?

20k+

Jij Verliest series by ravenbrenna09 (@djsander) | M

Summary: For the past three months, Robbe’s life—and what it once was—had been stripped away and rearranged. Now, if anything, his life had become a bit repetitive: homework, stream, ignore Thomas’s Instagram, repeat. But one Friday evening, Robbe meets a hurricane in the form of a platinum-haired tattoo artist who just might show him everything that he’s been missing.

This is a long series okay? But oh so worth it. It’s captivating and you don’t want to stop until you finish. And once you finish you’re sad it’s over even though you’ve just spent 8 fucking hours reading it. It’s amazing. But you probably know that because it’s quite popular (rightfully so). The best thing is that you expect it to go bad halfway through because it’s difficult to keep the quality on the same level in a fic that long. But it doesn’t.

Visitations by lucidpantone (@lucidpantone) | E

Summary: Does Robbe and Sander’s relationship survive into adulthood. This fic takes place in two simultaneously timelines: the past and the present.The present occurs in one entire day. Both timelines are completely out of chronological order. Everything is in clips.You can be dropped in at anytime of the day in any timeline. So clip by clip you will need to piece together what happen to Sander & Robbe and why the present looks the way it does and what happened in the past that got them there.This love story is a journey. So be prepared.In the words of one of our Even’s. It’s a complicated love story between complicated people.

This is not a regular fic. The author put so much thought into it, there are so many gems, so many little things that you have to pay attention to because it.all.matters. And there is not one interpretation. Don’t you just love when a story forces you to think and use your brain? Cause I do. Not gonna lie: this story hurts, and like the author says themselves, it’s a journey. But oh my god get in because it’s amazing. And the ending is just sjsjsjsjsddhdhsdsgdsg 🤯

the night we met by themoongirl (@dearsander) | T

Summary: Robbe Ijzermans has a brain that won’t let him sleep, a chest that feels far too heavy and thoughts that never stop.During his first year of college he meets Sander Driesen. Robbe finds what he never went looking for.

A college AU. This fic is a journey of pain and fluff and humor. It has awesome friendships. And sobbe falling in love. And liminal spaces. I read it a while ago so I don’t remember it as well as the others but you know what? I still remember that it was great and I’m lowkey happy I don’t remember it that well because now I can go and read it again.

The Stars Look Very Different by @peaceoutofthepieces

Summary: Robbe is bored. He’s bored of listening to his friends talking about girls, and his other friends making out, and no one ever doing anything. He’s tired of having to put in all the work, of making his own fun. He’s tired of feeling nothing so he doesn’t have to feel like nothing. His party stunts are pushing the limit, his thrill seeking beginning to worry even his friends, and his carelessness is toeing the line of dangerous.

He’s a little tired of being ‘dangerous’, too.

Sander may or may not have a crush on the older boy with the apparent death wish. He wouldn’t mind a little danger.

Once I started reading this fic, each day I was waiting for an update at the edge of my seat which was a feeling I expected from s4 that did not deliver. TSLVD definitely delivered. My favorite sobbe social media AU

Ziggy Stardust Series by skamsnake (@skamsnake) | M/E

A collection of fics taking place throughout the season. Most of them are E rated so be aware of that but it’s a really cool mixture of fluff and spice *fans myself*

#wtfock #sobbe #robbe x sander #wtfock fanfic #sobbe fanfic #SHOW UP IN THE TAG

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fruityutas · 3 years

Text

strike to the heart

taglist ~ @puppywritings , @xiaojours , @svchengss , @prettyjaems

part of @du0tine ‘s 21 ways to kill your lover collab

unstable!yangyang x psychologist!reader

not proofread

wc ~ 5k

genre ~ angst, ttiiinnnyyy fluff, thriller

warnings ~ the following writing is FICTION and has very heavy and unsettling themes like murder, suicide, and toxic relationships. if these themes are triggering or otherwise uncomfortable to you, do NOT read this story. there are also themes of religion.

synopsis ~ you were the best of the best, no one could bring an end to your golden career until he came along

note ~ i based yangyang’s personality in this off of his turn back time persona, making him very obviously mentally unstable. the plotline is based loosely off of harley quinn’s origin story, except of course, the reader dies. i also used the concept of purgatory in this story.

i realize that purgatory is apart of various religions, and i hope i made use of it in this story in the way it is intended to be portrayed as. i am not familiar with the subject, as i am non religious and have been for many years, so if i wrote anything that was disrespectful, please let me know and i will educate myself more on the topic. please note that if i do write something disrespectful, i will not be changing the writing in any way, unless necessary, because i feel that changing/erasing the mistake prevents anyone from seeing my growth as a person.

here is the link to the website i used to read up on purgatory -> https://historylists.org/art/9-levels-of-purgatory-dantes-purgatorio.html

your parents always told you to aim for first. probably why you’re here now. you sit in the chair, watching your life play on what seems to be a screen. you can’t tell either way, everything is stark white and blends into one. the scenes are the only thing providing color to your eyes. are you dreaming? no, no that can’t be. the last thing you remember is…pain. and betrayal. how could he do this?

he was a fucking criminal. he had no true love for you, you were his final act. how could you have been so naive? every thought came too fast, it made your head hurt. a noise brought you out of your thoughts. a tall man stood off to the side of the screen. his features were sharp, and he looked angelic. “you must be y/n. you must also be wondering where you are.” you struggle to find your voice, so you nod at the man. he gives a sympathetic smile and strolls over to you.

“you’re in purgatory. well, this is the judgment room. here your memories are played and the most influential ones are used to go to their corresponding terraces.”

“do i pick them out?” he shakes his head.

“no, the council does that. you just sit and watch.” you shift in your chair, the hard material uncomfortable against your skin. “don’t worry, i’ll be here while it happens. you can call me sicheng.” his voice was hypnotizing, calming your mind. you turned back to the screen, and what you assumed to be the first memory started to play.

a burst of yelling snaps you from your thoughts. looks like we have a new patient. it was like this everytime a new patient arrived. yelling, taunting, sometimes as far as physical assault. it was like the right of passage for ‘newbies’ as the currents like to call them. you leave your office to peek downstairs. this one is surrounded by four guards. that’s unusual. two guards was standard, why does this patient need four? a danger to himself and others i assume. i should ask joy if i can take him. you hadn’t had a new patient in months, and all your others were making such progress they moved to a new unit. one of your patients, named chittaphon, had been released back into society. you were one of the best, even at such a young age.

“joy! have you assigned the new patient to anyone yet? i’d like to have him.” you plopped yourself onto the couch in her office. her soft laugh brought you comfort.

“of course you can have him, i was probably going to ask you anyway. you haven’t been busy with any others lately. yukhei is moving to a new unit next week you know. you did good with him, he asked me to tell you thank you.” your heart aches at the thought of yukhei missing you, the boy had become important to you. you would sit and let him talk about his family, his friends, and even his - what he called - soulmate. he would always gush about them and their relationship. you never suspected he could have killed them in such the way he did, or that his ill brain would rewire itself into thinking they were waiting for him to get better and be released from the hospital. the day he found that out was burned in your memory, chairs being thrown and yelling from the entire floor. it broke your heart to see him in such a state, even more when they had to lock him in isolation for a week.

but things change and he got better, and now he’s moving up a unit. more yelling snaps you out of your little thinking session. you and joy peek out her office door to see the new inmate arguing with the guards. you sigh and head down the stairs, as much as joy protests it. one of the guards notices you and tells you to stay back, and that this inmate is dangerous. you shake your head at him and push through to get closer. the inmate didn’t look much older than you, albeit a bit taller than you. he was still yelling at the guards when you came up to him and cleared your throat. he rolls his eyes and turns to you to start yelling, but you shut him down with a stern look at a shake of your head.

“now, now, you don’t want to come in and be the hardass on the first day do you?” he says nothing, but the lack of arguing from him tells you he is agreeing. you tell one of the guards to follow you to his cell. it comes to no one’s surprise that his cell is in the lower level, it’s where all the worst patients stay. the guard that accompanied you stood directly outside the door of the cell, ready for any assistance. the inmate sat down on the cot provided but faced away from you. “are you going to speak to me?” he spares you a small glance, unwavering in intimidation, but it didn’t phase you. his face was young, yet it somehow seemed to be worn and exhausted. you wanted to open him up and see what his troubles came from, to fix him into a model member of society.

“wouldn’t you want me too huh?” his tone was annoyed and sarcastic. you stay collected and just nod at him. “why don’t we start with your name?” he stays silent. “if you don’t want to cooperate that’s perfectly fine but just know i’m the only one you can talk to if you want out of here.” you stand up and leave the cell, knowing that even though it didn’t look like it, progress was made. your last statement would sit with him until the next time you visit him, and he would talk eventually.

the screen fades away and into a new image. the only thing on the screen is the word ‘stubborn.’ you are confused as to what it means. sicheng makes his way over to you, his long legs making the distance short. “it corresponds to the first level of purgatory, stubbornness. although it wasn’t you who was being the most stubborn, it seems.” he snaps his fingers and a seat appears for him to sit. the screen lights up again and another memory begins to play.

“what do you mean he wants to see me? i just spoke to him this morning and he refused to say anything?” joy shrugs her shoulders exasperatedly. you sigh and make your way towards the lower level. the guard at the security door greets you with a nod of the head before letting you in. the inmate’s cell was at the end of the hall, dimly lit and dingey, with a slight smell of mildew. the underground location made for cold air and small windows, so there was never enough light in the place. as you made your way to your patient’s cell, a few of the other inmates down there whistled at you. they whooped and hollered to your dismay, bringing unwanted attention. you recognized one of them, guanheng was his name. he had been a patient of joy’s before she was promoted to her managerial position. no one else wanted to take him on, so they sent him down here to rot. you had expressed the idea of taking him, but joy wouldn’t have it. she simply said he was too unstable for anyone, and deserved to be down there. you disagree with her to this day, but she is still your superior and you can’t just go breaking rules just for your liking.

you knocked on the door to the cell, and a gruff “come in” came from the other side. entering the cell, you saw everything in disarray. “now, why is the cell in this condition?” he huffs and crosses his arms, almost in a cute way. you shake your head and continue in, shutting the door behind you. “are you going to tell me your name? i think it would help me connect better with you.” he looks at you with a blank stare. you don’t change your facial expression, remaining stoney faced. he sighs and starts muttering to himself, as if he was arguing with someone, before looking back up at you and finally speaking. “yangyang. at least thats what i’ve been told.” you hum lightly before asking him a few more questions.

“is it alright if i call you yangyang?” “yes” “alrightly then, do you remember anything from yesterday?” he ponders for a moment, his face going through a group of different expressions before he looks back to you. “i only know that i woke up and felt like hurting someone. but i can’t remember who or why. do you have any pens?” the last question catches you off guard. you hand him an extra pen from your coat pocket. he takes it eagerly and looks to your clipboard with expectant eyes. you tear a blank piece of paper from the back and hand it over. he immediately draws nonsense doodles, the paper quickly being filled. when he fills it, he flips it over to do the other side. “you can keep asking me things, you know. i like to draw, though i don’t know what. the other voice tells me to just make lines and things.” you’re jotting down notes when all of a sudden he throws the pen at you. it hits you square in the head, and you look up at him in surprise. he starts giggling and throws the crumpled paper at you. you remain calm as this can be a common occurrence among patients. his giggles become… unsettling very quickly, the tone and manner of them turning to a deeper octave. you slowly reach into your pocket to grab the help button, but you don’t press it just yet. yangyang stops his giggling and it becomes muttering. his words are difficult to make out, but you pick out a few, ‘kill’, ‘why’, and ‘forget’. you jot them down along with a note stating he was mumbling them in sentences that were not understood. “yangyang, are you hearing anything? do you know the other voice’s name if they have one?” he peeks out of his arms at you nodding. “they tell me that i shouldn’t have forgotten why i killed her.” you had notes on him that his previous institution gave to you, but you wanted to earn his trust by asking various questions. “who did you kill?” you knew he killed his mother, left her body hanging from the porch for everyone to see. the question cause him to tear up a bit. “i, i killed my mother. she just wouldn’t shut up, always nagging me about the house and bills, as if i could help it. she was a bitch.” “mmm, yes. but you loved her still, no?” he nods shakily as if he was unsure. “and did you forget why you killed her that morning?” another nod is sent to you. you keep taking notes on his behaviors.

you end the session on a positive note, telling yangyang that he did good today and that you’d be back tomorrow, but if he needed you to ask.

the screen once again went dark before the word ‘repentance’ appears. sicheng whips a pen-like object from nothing, grabbing your arm harshly to turn you towards him. “now, you might not like this next part but it has to be done. i have to carve five p’s into you somewhere. they aren’t permanent but it still hurts.” you panic slightly, trying to get away from his grasp.

“why?!” his face is stoic and cold, the seriousness setting in. you continue to struggle until he grips your face with vigor, causing you to stop moving. “stop. moving. it has to be done. now, where do you want me to do it?” you just point to your arm and look away as he does it. the pain is searing but bearable. “what is this for?” he makes the pen disappear before clearing his throat to speak. “for each of the sins that lead to your death, there is a ‘p’. the council shows a memory that corresponds to a sin, and you must figure out which one. if you get it right, you move one to the next one until the end, where you are allowed into heaven. if you get them wrong, you have another chance with a different memory. you only get two chances for each sin, though, and if you lose both of them a ‘p’ stays and it’s harder to get the next one correct. if you get more than two sins wrong, you spend 100 years here and then you are banished to hell. so please, be careful and choose wisely.” and with that he turns his attention back to the screen, as do you.

your appointments with yangyang were productive and you got to know him a lot better within the past few days. he hated dogs, they were too noisy and energetic for him. he really wanted to paint and draw all the time, so you gave him a few paint markers to decorate his cell with. when you had your next appointment, the walls were pretty full. he liked the texture of orange peels, he hated the taste. a lot of the things you learned intrigued you, why was his brain wired this way? you needed to dig deeper, and you knew you could. you had many awards and praises from seniors, your ego was swollen from it all. you took pride in your work, and you weren’t exactly humble about it. you would always brag to others about your accomplishments, and sometimes you made it a competition between you and your coworkers. joy was the only one that didn’t pay attention to it, she always let you go on rants about how you accomplished so many things this young.

the door to yangyang’s cell was the same grey color as usual, though on the inside, the room was filled with markings and random drawings the boy did. “yangie? what’s up?” he excitedly jumps from his spot on the bed over to the corner that the sessions took place in. two small chairs and a table were tucked in it, but it was cozy to you. a warm smile took place on your face as you sat in front of him. “well, today i really tried my best to not get angry with anyone like you said, and it worked! all i did was think about what you said to me and it helped so much. no one messed with me either.” there it is, the rush of pride in yourself. your ego is boosted, refilled for the day. you knew he could do it, with your help of course. you were the best in the field. “that is really good to hear, yangyang. i’m glad you remembered what i told you so you could control your emotions.” his hair bounced with each energized nod he gave you. you opened your clipboard and handed him a small stack of blank paper. “this is for you. now you have something clean to draw on again.” he took the papers excitedly.

the rest of the session was yangyang rambling on about how you were the only one helping him and how he really liked seeing you. you observed him and from time to time you’d write notes down on his info sheet. every time he caught you staring, he’d blush and look back at his drawings. a smirk carved into your face, and a wink was all it took for him to turn into a stuttering mess. you left the session that day glowing in confidence and pride.

the screen fades away, and you feel a tingling on your arm where one of the Ps is. sicheng’s voice whispers into your ear, “figure out what sin you just witnessed.” it makes you jump a little, but you quickly regain your composure. all you could think about was yangyang. but deep inside your inner conscious, you knew the sin here wasn’t about him. it was about you. “i have my answer.” sicheng gives you a small nod and when you turn back around, a dark and windy figure stands in front of you. a voice not belonging to you enters your mind. “which sin is it, y/n?” with a shaky voice, and sweating palms, you manage to garble out your answer. “it’s pride. i was prideful in my ways, never backing down from challenges that weren’t meant for me.” the dark figure nods before wisping away. the tingling returns to your arm, and as you look down at it a P swiftly disappears. sicheng’s footsteps bring you back up to the screen, which begins to play a new memory.

the continuous sessions with yangyang proved to be well. his condition was getting better, and he seemed to be taking well to the exercises you gave him. you were on your way to an appointment when joy came up beside you. “have you met with the new doctor yet?” you shake your head. “no, what’s their name? where are they located?” she tries to hide a mischievous smirk, grabbing your arm to stop your walking. “he is absolutely gorgeous! his name is kunhang and he’s actually gonna be on your unit, which means you’re training him since you are the best.” you chuckle at her enthusiasm, she’d always been trying to hook you up with people. she winks at you and runs off, probably to her next appointment. she’d conveniently stopped you in front of yangyang’s cell. you walk inside and see him on his bed pouting.

“what is wrong with you?” his eyes look up at you and shine with the beginnings of tears, worrying you. had the guards or an inmate said something to him? while you’re lost in thought he jumps up and pulls you on the bed with him, his arms wrapped tightly around you. you snap out of it and sit frozen in his arms. the feeling of butterflies in your stomach erupt and you know it’s because of the man in your arms. he lets you go and you stand up to fix your uniform. “what had gotten into you, yangs?” his pouting doesn’t go away and he speaks softly. “who is kunhang?” so that’s what he’s being clingy for. he’s jealous. “he’s a new psychiatrist here. i have to train him.” yangyang didn’t get rid of the pout on his face, and he didn’t let your hand go for the entire session. the jealousy he had even after you told him that nothing was going to happen between you and kunhang was noteworthy, though you didn’t specify why he was jealous on his chart.

the surrounding air had become cold, and you shiver harshly. sicheng sits beside you, tapping impatiently on the table. the shadow figure returns, and before it can speak you do. “the sin was envy. but why did you show me a memory of someone else being envious? i thought this was about my sins.” the figure doesn’t move from its spot. sicheng sighs and throws a stick at the figure, causing it to grunt. “that was unnecessary, sicheng. you are the reason for this sin. you let yangyang get attached to you, causing him to become jealous and protective of you. you may not have committed this sin, but you had the first hand in causing it.” you nod in agreeance, you had let him get close with you. too close, in your opinion, because if you hadn’t you wouldn’t be in this whole situation. it’s a bit ironic, you always told your coworkers to be wary of patients, yet here you are, stuck in purgatory because of one.

in the days leading up to your death, yangyang requested to see you nonstop, and he would ask so many questions about the outside world. what was surrounding the building, how many people were in the city. in hindsight, you should have suspected him to be trying to escape, but your mind was apparently on other things.

the last day you were alive, yangyang requested you only once. it was around eight in the evening, and this was going to be your last trip to his cell, quite literally. “are you ok, yangyang?” he nods and makes his way over to you. he might be younger, but his height is not small. “i’m just fine. but i wanna ask you something.” you nod to let him continue. “i’m planning to leave, and i want you to come with me.” the words come out of him in a hurry, but you catch them. a pit forms in your chest after hearing them. what in the world was he thinking? your job was important, and he still needed the therapy sessions you were giving him. “no, absolutely not. yangyang you can’t leave without proper check out from me and my superior. you know this.” he sighs in annoyance, grabbing your hand and dragging you to sit. “that’s not the type of leaving i meant. i mean we sneak out and never look back. we leave here and head north to my good friend ten’s house. he has this bigass mansion in the middle of nowhere, and we can lie low there for a while before going somewhere else and starting new!” you can’t bring yourself to say anything, the shock of how much he’d thought out this plan sitting heavy on your shoulders. the courage to say something before he thinks you’re agreeing with him bubbles up. “yangyang, under all circumstances, you and i cannot do that. do you know how many force tasks they’d send out for us? how much trouble we’d be in when they caught us? plus, you still need these sessions that i’m doing. the real world is harsh, and doesn’t take kindly to you. i wouldn’t want you or anyone else getting hurt.” his face contorts into sadness at your statement. he pulls you in for a bone-crushing hug, not letting go. “but i thought you loved me, don’t you want us to be happy together?” your blood runs cold at his confession. love was never on the table, the flirting you’d been doing was just to open him up to make it easier to talk. you knew you were taking a risk doing that, but never had you anticipated him to fall in love with you and think it was mutual. you separate yourself from him and walk to the door. “yangyang, are you being serious? you- you don’t actually think i’m in love with you, right?” his face falls, going completely straight. no movement comes from either of you for a good minute, the situation at hand causing hesitance. “you’re not? i just thought… you were.” you scoff at the boy sitting in front of you. “y/n, i don’t think you realize that i’ve already planned for this. we’re gonna have to leave.” you start to argue with him but a flurry of gunshots and screams ring out from all around you. you turn and pull the door open to see patients and guards frantically running about, a breach in the facility causing this. “jesus fucking- yangyang why in the hell would you do this!?” you turn to see him getting up from the bed and gathering a few items. “yangyang!” he doesn’t respond, only grabbing your arm and pulling you along with him. you’re too much in shock to resist the boy, and on top of that he’s definitely stronger than you. the run towards whatever exit he’s taking you to seems surreal. the amount of trouble you’re going to be in for this is astronomical. you can hear the words “you’re fired” repeating in your mind. outside the door is an alleyway that connects the facility to a power plant. it seemed like they’d had a breach too. yangyang really wasn’t lying when he said you’d have to leave to someplace far away. he drags you into the plant and heads for the large vats of chemicals. “yangyang where the hell are you taking us? what are you doing?” he glances over his shoulder at you, a deathly look on his face. “this wouldn’t have been in the plan if you had just done what i needed you to do. now you have to pay the price.” what in the fuck did he mean.

the vats were in sight, glowing and hot from the chemicals in them. your surroundings loud from combat, you’d assumed from runaway patients attacking. yangyang stopped in front of the largest one, looking down in it and smirking. he turns to a very shaken you, giggling like a madman. “i think you know what’s in store for you my love. you betrayed me! you gave me all the signs, and carelessly flirted, acting like you liked me.” tears were pouring down both of your faces, but for different reasons. the end of your life was staring at you, loud and proud, and you knew this. you had many goals in your life, and to see none of them get achieved hurt you. you take one last look at yangyang, who is inching closer. “i’m sorry for making you feel like that. i just hope that in the next life, you’ll be a normal person and get to experience life in a positive perspective.” he doesn’t seem to care, because as soon as he gets close enough to you, he grips your face and leans in. “and now, my love, you leave me with a kiss.” his lips lock with yours for a brief second before he shoves you hard, taking the breath out of you. you fall backwards into the vat, the acidic chemicals eating you. yangyang stares at you as you perish, the smile slowly dropping from his face.

one would think this whole tragedy could be easily resolved, but this was not a villain origin story, it was real life, and you were dead. yangyang knew what he had done was fatal, but make no mistake, you knew it was what he wanted. he did love you, but his brain was not the same as a normal person’s. the wiring was simply not supportive of any form of morals, no right or wrong could be detected. all he knew was that you were in the way of him getting out, and he needed you removed. so he did.

and as reality set in for him, yangyang realized that you were the only one who understood him. you were the one to listen to his problems and not look at him like he was crazy, to help him through the intrusive thoughts, and you did that all while loving him.

he breaks down, dropping to his knees at the harsh reality that you were gone forever, and no longer able to make him happy. the salty tears running down his face provided a blunt sting to the cuts and scrapes adorning his face. his shoulders shook with sorrow and his sobs were melancholic. yangyang can’t even think straight, all his mind is screaming is you. your name, face, your soft hair, warm skin, and the way you laughed at all his stupid jokes. he wants an escape from the voices in his head. the grate walkways that line the perimeter of the vats are loud with yangyang’s manic running. all he wants is freedom from his personal hell, he’s had to deal with people looking down on him all his life, saying that he was never going to be able to be normal, berating him for all the fucked up things he’s done, but never helping him to be a better person, always leaving him to rot in different psych ward cells.

gun. there’s one somewhere.

the one voice in his head that wasn’t screaming made him worry no less than before, but he knew to heed his own advice. it was the only coherent thought at the moment so what’s the harm. yangyang finds himself lost, and begins to get angry until he sees a guard coming his way. attacking him, he easily finds a gun and wrings it from the man’s grip before shooting him dead. the body slumps over and yangyang decides that he’d rather not die next to it. he is far too lost to try and get back to where he pushed you to your timely death, so he just runs until he finds a room. unlocked and unoccupied, he slips in and locks the door behind him.

the leather chair that he sits in is worn and comfortable. the desk has various papers scattered around, and the computer is off. yangyang takes one good look at himself in the reflection of the screen before pulling the trigger.

the judgement room is even colder than before. you sit in the uncomfortable chair, tears streaming down your face and sobs ripping through your chest. sicheng sits, unaffected by your pain. the shadowy figure appears in front of you, so close you can hear whispers of a large multitude floating out of it. “y/n, you must finish the trial. what was the last sin?” you try your damndest to compose yourself, wiping the tears and hiccuping. “i- he was…” “no, y/n. no excuses. what is the sin displayed here?” you didn’t need this figure up your ass about it, the answer was obvious. sighing, you look up at it, seeing it slightly resembles a man. “wrath.” the figure hums in response, moving over to show the screen again. in large font and bold letters, the word “repentance” is shown. “you have passed judgement, and you shall be going to heaven. are there any questions?”

#neowritingsnet #nshitty-frathouse #unfortunatus: inferno #nct #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv yangyang #yangyang #yangyang x reader #yangyang scenarios

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gloryofluv · 3 years

Text

Traditionally Obscure Chapter 33

Arteeeem!!!

Previous Chapter

Rosa and Artem were walking out the door after work. It was unusual to have an NXX meeting in the late afternoon after work. However, after the two-week span of two being absent, there was a need to review new information.

The fact that new information was going to be another great leg up in the direction they needed to take. Since her last trial in regards to NXX, it seems things grew quiet. A new lead was an excellent charge forward.

Artem seemed to be in decent spirits, even before they left the office. He even laughed at one of Celestine’s jokes, which Rosa had never seen. Celestine was acting a bit odd. Well, Rosa asking her questions earlier might have crossed a line, but she didn’t think so. In short, her first day back at work wasn’t half bad. That was the synopsis, and Artem’s subtle smile declared it was similar for him… until they walked toward the parking lot.

A familiar smile greeted them when they rounded the corner. “Good afternoon, Artem, Rosa,” Vyn declared.

Rosa beamed and skipped over to him. “Good afternoon! How was your day?”

He rocked his head and ran his fingers over his vest. “Yes, far better after we spoke on the phone. I hope your day was excellent.”

Artem approached and ran his fingers over his tie. “What are you doing here, Vyn?”

“I felt that I could stop here on the way and take Rosa over myself,” Vyn smiled.

Artem inhaled, and his expression read mild annoyance. “I don’t see the point.”

Rosa pinched the bridge of her nose. “Artem, please. We talked about this,” she sighed.

Vyn arched an eyebrow in the slightest. “Shall we head out?” he asked Rosa.

“How about we meet you over there?” Artem suggested. “We haven’t gone over anything in regards to NXX.”

“That’s quite alright. We are going to do a review. Besides, I’ve been waiting to see her all day,” Vyn smiled and took Rosa’s hand before bending to kiss it.

She beamed and ran her thumb against his hand before glancing at Artem. His face was vacant of emotion, but his eyes were sharp, and his cheeks dusted with color. “I will see you both there,” he nodded.

Vyn straightened his form and watched as Artem walked toward his car. Rosa noted the tension clearly, but there wasn’t an obvious reason, well, aside from Artem’s clear disapproval. However, he hadn’t voiced it to Vyn, so it was a conundrum.

His eyes found her, and he nodded. “Shall we go? I’d love to hear about your first day back in the office.”

Rosa rocked her head, and Vyn led her with gentle encouragement toward his own car. He opened the passenger door and assisted, though unnecessary, with her sitting down. The monotony of the day melted with his easy smile.

Soon, he was in the driver’s seat and buckled before turning to her and sighing. “I’ve missed you today. I know that seems quite odd considering we’ve seen each other every day for two weeks.”

“It was difficult to return to our old normal,” Rosa agreed and removed the hair from her face.

Vyn tilted his head and reached over, caressing her cheek. “Those are interesting. I haven’t seen you wear those earrings before.”

Her face warmed, and she smiled. “Oh, yes, Artem gave them to me today as a welcome home gift. I know he was worried, and he was sincere about my efforts.”

Vyn dropped his hand and rocked his head. “I’m positive he was,” Vyn sighed and shook his head. “Let’s go.”

Rosa felt the sting of some sort of recoil, but she wasn’t positive why. Vyn pulled the car out of the parking space, and she shifted in her seat. “You seem displeased.”

“Not with you,” Vyn took a chance and smiled over at her. “He shouldn’t have given you such an extravagant gift. It sends the wrong message.”

“Wrong message?” Rosa inquired with a scowl.

Vyn was silent for a moment and ran his thumbs traced the wheel. There was the appearance of a debate that entered his expression, and he nodded. “Did your mother ever talk to you about dating, Rosa? Maybe a conversation about boys and the premise of courting?”

Rosa winced and shook her head. “No, she really never did. She told me that what matters is how you feel about a person and be the best version of myself before I thought about dating anyone. Beauty is fleeting, but intelligence and kindness are the foundation for a fulfilling marriage.”

“So, you’ve never had a conversation about expectations with your mother or possibly another female figure?” He questioned.

“Well, unless you count Kiki, but she has an interesting take on dating,” Rosa giggled and shook her head. “However, she is the closest thing I have to be able to ask questions in regards to dating.”

Vyn smiled and tilted his head. “Well, that is different, to be sure. I don’t mind clarifying questions. I don’t expect you to be perfect. I, myself, have never taken steps in courting before, so I am learning too,” he voiced.

Rosa beamed and ran her fingers through her hair. “You do have far more knowledge than I do, Vyn. I feel silly asking you if I’m doing things incorrectly. I even asked Celestine today if she had any advice. That didn’t go over very well. She was nearly writing my vows for me. I don’t even know why she was so excited about me asking her.”

“I see,” Vyn hummed. “I want to tell you a story.”

“Okay,” Rosa nodded.

Vyn stopped at a light and breathed. “In Svart, it was a large lesson that young men and women receive from their parents and instructors. The concept of courting is a huge commitment and respected as such. We were taught what types of gifts have certain symbolism. A flower with its own symbolism is a given, but jewelry is a large statement. It usually is given after courting for some time and celebrated for a milestone, such as a birthday together, a holiday, or in plenty of cases, pre-engagement.”

Her lips thinned as she glanced over. “That is quite interesting.”

“Yes, so my friend, one of which I do intend for you to meet eventually, he was close with this young baroness. He had decided to give her a beautiful set of earrings for her birthday. They were silver horns on account of them being music majors together. Her parents were rather upset due to her courting a viscount in the neighboring province.”

“They were upset at the earrings because of the symbolism?” Rosa questioned.

“Yes, quite. Enough for my musician friend to write an apology to her parents and announce that his intentions were only of a platonic manner and he was sorry to offend, you see, the traditions in Stellis aren’t as rigid or formed. However, it still is a manner I believe most upper-class society goes by out here as well.”

Rosa tucked her chin as her cheeks bloomed with bright color. “So, Artem’s gift, is it offensive to you?”

“It is, and even more so that he had given it to you after knowing about our courtship. However, I’m not displeased with you accepting it. I want that to be clear. It isn’t you who offended me. Artem may not even know he has crossed a line either. However, any man willing to give a lady jewelry after finding out about her seeing someone exclusively best have a better reason than a simple gift of gratitude or appreciation,” Vyn finished, and his expression tightened as his hands on the wheel gripped.

Rosa removed her hair from around her ears and took the golden wings off. It was that simple. If it was offensive to him, then she shouldn’t be wearing it. “I’m sorry I didn’t know, Vyn. I wouldn’t have accepted the gift had I known.”

His tension lessened, and he smiled as he parked the car. “I know, Rosa. You don’t need to apologize for it. I don’t mind that you accepted the gift. I would most certainly tell you if I thought it was a slight against me.”

Rosa placed the earrings back into the box in her purse and turned to smile at him. “I hope so. I’m sorry I’m not educated on this. I know I have plenty to catch up on, but I will put in my best effort.”

He chuckled and reached over, caressing her cheek. “Just be you. I adore you for who you are, not for your achievements, though stellar and wonderful, nor your experience.”

She pressed her hand over his and inhaled. “I adore you as well.”

Vyn leaned closer to her, and his lips stretched. “You are a magnificent woman. I’m enamored by your very existence. I could never deceive my own heart,” he murmured.

Rosa bent toward him and tilted her head. “Your own heart?”

“Yes, for you have it,” he nodded.

Rosa coiled her arm around his shoulder and sighed. “Vyn.”

He closed the distance and kissed her. It wasn’t like in his garden on Saturday. This kiss was delicate with a hint of something more. The softness of his fingers sliding into her locks as his heartbeat in a swift rhythm under her hand that traced his vest.

Vyn’s tongue had playfully touched her lips before pulling away. Rosa covered her giant grin and giggled with her hand. That likely wasn’t a positive reaction, but Vyn’s smile didn’t fade as he observed her.

“I’m sorry, I was a bit zealous,” he said.

“No, please, don’t. I just,” Rosa sputtered as she pulled her hand away. “Can we try that again?”

Vyn inhaled, and his fingers tangled in her hair. They met in the middle, and Rosa sighed as their lips touched. It was this beautiful flutter that developed in her chest as he cradled her head. Her fingers felt jittery on his chest as she caressed his vest button and tie.

Soft movements of lips. Coaxing her from her anxiety. Vyn Richter was the equivalent of an adrenaline rush. His tongue slid along her lower lip, and her natural reaction to return the favor was greeted with a thrumming sigh that rumbled in his chest. Her heart sped up at the sound, and she could feel the heat she was radiating getting caught between her neck and hair.

The knock at the window interrupted them as Vyn pulled away. “If you two are done playing tongue football, we have a meeting,” Marius declared from the sidewalk.

“Enough, Marius,” Vyn voiced.

Marius grinned and waved at Rosa, who ducked her chin. “Hello, Missy. You look rather cute with a deep blush and red lips. I think I painted similarly recently.”

“Stop it,” Rosa retorted and unbuckled her seat belt.

“I would love to have a live model one of these days,” he teased and pulled away from the car.

Rosa puffed and dug in her bag for a hair tie. “He’s incorrigible,” she grumbled with reddened cheeks.

Vyn adjusted his tie and straightened his vest. “Unfortunately, he’s correct as well in regards to the meeting. We should get going.”

“Yes,” she breathed and pulled her hair up and away from her neck.

Vyn touched her arm before climbing from the car. He walked around, opening her car door, and sighed. “Marius, did you have to wait for us?”

“I did it because someone needs to chaperone you, obviously. That wasn’t innocent once so ever. I’d say I’m impressed, Vyn, but I believe that’s all Rosa. She’s the one with the natural talent.”

“Green is a poor color on you,” Vyn declared as Rosa gripped his hand.

Marius glared. “Same could be said for you.”

“I haven’t a stitch of it on me,” Vyn smiled and gestured with his free hand to the door. “Let’s go have our meeting.”

Marius rolled his eyes and opened the door. “We’ll have to agree on a no PDA in the headquarters rule.”

“Marius, please,” Rosa groaned and shook her head. “Let’s just go have our meeting.”

“I agree,” Vyn said, and the three of them walked inside.

#tears of themis #tears of themis fanfic #tot fanfic #tot #tears of themis vyn #vyn richter #tears of themis mc #tot fluff #tot angst #tot vyn #tot mc #tot romance #royal society

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sylvies-chen · 3 years

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Chicago PD's Characters and the Role of Reform: an Analysis (???)

Hi everyone! The finales of One Chicago aired a couple of weeks ago by now but I've been preparing this post in my head ever since PD's finale aired. I wanted to talk/write about each character's (and maybe even the writers') interpretation of police reform and how it affects the plot. This will also talk about police reform in general. Before I start, I'd just like to state that this will be a bit long and probably biased since a lot of it is influenced by my own views on reform. I'm not interested in debating people on the internet, just putting out interesting perspective on an interesting TV show. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and feel free to add thoughts of your own— as long as they’re respectful!

Chicago PD's handling of reform in this season was far from perfect but I did enjoy a few things they did with it. We had Kevin, a POC, stand up and fight back when even the people closest to him tried to shut him down. I did have some issue with the way they reduced Kevin's entire set of beliefs/morals to something so trivial and disrespectful as a "woke card" but I think the writers chose to do that on purpose to show how blinded white people can be sometimes. It's more the characters using that term, not the writers, which I thought was a good move since in both situations— Kevin v. Voight in 8x02 and Kevin v. Adam in 8x16– they made sure it's clear that Kevin is in the right. Voight may have been frustrated and Adam may have been spiraling over losing Kim (love me some #Burzek), but Kevin was still in the right. If only we could have some more varied representation on this show! That way, Kevin wouldn’t have to be used as the emotional punching bag all the time for these white characters and their misplaced frustrations with the system (added onto their personal frustrations which fluctuate on a episode-to-episode basis).

Now, onto the view on reform because this is where it gets interesting. I'm going to go ahead and say something that might be controversial: I think the majority of conflicts in this season have come from a gross misinterpretation of the concept of reform. This is especially highlighted in the finale when we see Adam saying he should be able to change/bend/break the rules to save someone he loves. It's also shown in the case with Miller's son Darrell and how they need to break the rules to save him, the case in 8x11 that Hailey considers breaking the rules for. It could even be loosely applies to 8x06 when Jay feels the need to break the rules only slightly in order to serve proper justice for their victim's father. Proper justice, in this case for Jay, being mercy towards the father and doing what's right in Jay's mind. Notice a common theme? These characters who are against reform (I know Voight was so good most of the season but he still falls into that category because of the first and last two episodes) all have one thing in common: the way they view reform. Voight, Hailey, and Adam, somewhere along the line (in my opinion), have all come to think of reform as a social push to get police officers to adhere to the proper guidelines when in reality, that's only a small fraction of an otherwise complex concept. Reform isn't all about getting police to follow the rules-- reform in and of itself is recognizing that the rules that are set into place aren't always effective. There are rules that are discriminatory, rules that are bureaucratic nonsense, rules that disproportionately affect specific groups of people, and rules that create roadblocks to solving real problems. Hell, the original police systems in North America especially were created to persecute minorities and maintain military power over citizens. The need for reform is referencing a larger systemic issue and getting police officers to follow the most basic procedures is just the tip of the iceberg. I don't want to get too much into the principles behind reform here because I am no expert. I recognize that because I am white I benefit from these rules/systems put into place so my voice shouldn't matter in the grand scheme of things, but I do think the majority of the tensions in this season of Chicago PD stem from the extreme oversimplification of reform. It surprised me too when I thought about it because they've managed to explore the grey areas/more complex aspects of it, but I think the writers are intentionally making that decision which makes it really interesting.

Throughout the season, I couldn’t help but feel that these characters considered reform as the push from the public to adhere to guidelines-- as they should, obviously-- but while ignoring the more nuanced principles of reform such as asking themselves questions like: is what I'm doing truly helping the communities we've sworn to serve and protect? Are the solutions us cops in Intelligence are offering permanent solutions? Should we be rethinking our principles of justice to be less retributive and more procedural-- or even more restorative?

This is all in reference to the characters, of course, not the writers. We have Voight, Hailey, and Adam resisting reform because they don’t see value in following the rules. But reform, in its purest form, is recognizing that the rules need changing, which is why it’s so interesting to see the “opposing side” against it even though they also believe the rules aren’t helping them. So I think it's really good and interesting how the writers have written these characters as having very complex and layered discussions/arguments about reform and about justice while still doing that. Because their contempt for the rules comes from a place of wanting to carry out justice, just like Kevin and all the others who push for reform, but they’re motivated by ideals closer to retributive justice and using their position of power to exact a more personal form of justice. Because of Hailey, Adam, and Voight’s more personal and intimate views of justice, their solutions always feel short-term. For example, Voight murdering suspects, bashing in cars, etc. This is all stuff that creates a temporary fix but their passion towards justice makes them care more about the personal, emotional release that kind of justice brings than the actual, long-term change. This is especially shown in that one scene where Hailey tells Jay the story about how a clerical error made an offender walk, which she sort of views as a reason why breaking the rules should be allowed whereas Kevin would view that as a reason why the rules need changing. Again, short-term vs. long-term.

This is not to say that Hailey, Voight, and Adam are evil, obviously. They're complicated, but they're far from evil. (Well, the jury’s still out on Voight. Haha!) What this show is portraying, however, is how the ideas of reform can be fleeting and temporary and all-around fickle in the minds of these characters when they reach a certain breaking point. They're able to throw this aside because they're all white, so it doesn't affect them personally. But right off the bat in season 8 we've seen it affect Kevin professionally AND personally in every single way. Others are almost viewing it as a social trend or a push to be a rule-follower though which is why both Adam and Voight, when put under emotional distress, are so easily able to downplay Kevin's push for doing things the right way. (Even though, really, he's asking for the bare minimum here of following the rules and not killing people.) Kevin, ever the conscience of the group, doesn’t put up with it and keeps people in check which can be extremely aggravating when you’re in a very emotional state and want to let your emotions lead you on a rampage. Hence, this is the root cause of the majority of tensions between the unit— in season 8 especially.

Anyway, this is all to say that I think this season of Chicago PD has done quite a lot in terms of portraying reform and the need for systemic change while still staying true to their characters and delving into how their privelege has led to them misinterpreting reform. Which leads to the portraying of some fairly corrupt policing, but never condoning it. At the very least, they show how it's less important for these characters since they all have a breaking point where reform becomes moot whereas for a black man like Kevin, it's more firmly ingrained into him. That’s a concept that is all too common in the real world, and one I appreciated that they represented even though some things weren’t so great.

#abby trying to be meta? it’s more common than you think #chicago pd #hank voight #adam ruzek #hailey upton #kevin atwater #analysis #meta timeeee #meta #police reform #one chicago

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