#but i am very flattered you asked and am psyched you enjoy the story because i am also very excited about it

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding Part Three: SW Time Travel AU #27

Part One

Part Two

Obi Wan woke with a dry mouth and a moderate headache. A fairly typical morning these days. 

He peered around his bedroom in the temple confused. Wasn’t he just with Cody? Shouldn’t he be on the Negotiator? No wait, the war was over, Cody tried to kill him, and the Negotiator was a part of the Imperial Armada, of course he wouldn’t be there. He closed his eyes, snuggling back under the covers. Before he could drift back to sleep, his sluggish mind processed that last thought. 

He BOLTED upright in bed. The temple had been razed, his personal chambers scorched with particular thoroughness. Just being on Coruscant was an automatic death sentence. Faint tendrils of panic began to curl around his throat before he remembered his decision to give Spice a try. He had reasoned that he should probably find at least one pleasure in his new life, instead of focusing incessantly on what was lost. 

So what if he lost a few brain cells? Good riddance. 

Obi-Wan had been a bit nervous, but this had ended up being his best decision in years. His goodbye to Cody had been painful, but deeply cathartic. Spice Hallucination Anakin didn’t scream like Nightmare Anakin, and the color of his eyes was perfect. Far better final memories to cling to than reality- a reminder of the good times. Comforted, he relaxed backwards in bed, pulling his blankets back around him.

He LURCHED out of bed, covers tossed aside, movement a blur.

He was still hallucinating?!? Spice shouldn’t last in the system this long! He might’ve been uncertain about whether he was supposed to smoke or snort the substance but it was a well known fact that its exhaustive but rapid passage through the body was half what made it so addictive. If nothing else, his well-restedness and thirst indicated it had been at least six hours. He looked frantically around the room, searching for some thread of unreality to pull at.

This...was not good. Hadn’t the subconscious manifestations of his friends mentioned drugs that interacted poorly with force users last night? He had dismissed it at the time but...

He clearly was stuck in some sort of drugged fantasy combined with force-enhanced memory recall. Kriff, he had to wake up in the real world before he died of an aneurysm. Or just dehydration.

He sat on the ‘temple floor’ to meditate. This could be tricky as he couldn’t risk lowering his outer shields to reach out to reality. It would be deeply embarrassing as well as horrifying if the Emperor managed to find him and, by extension, Luke because he got stuck in a bad spice trip.

The door to his room clicked open quietly. 

“Oh! You’re awake. Sorry to come in without knocking, Master. I wanted to let you sleep, but I’ve been checking on you every two hours to make sure you were still, you know, breathing. You were...pretty out of it last night and I would be a pretty bad ‘best friend in the whole galaxy’ if I let you choke on your own vomit, right?” His blue-eyed Padawan explained with a grin.

Obi-Wan just stared. Oh this- this hurt. It was easier last night, when the whole fantasy had a kind of drunken blurriness. Sleeping and waking had brought sober clarity to the dream world. He could see the bags under Anakin’s eyes as well as the sheepish slouch of his shoulders as he instinctively ducked at the door frame. It was just so real.

“Obi-Wan? Are you feeling ok? Do you still feel drunk?” Anakin asked concerned.

Obi-Wan shook his head. He hesitated, before deciding to just go along with the interaction. He didn’t want to risk his subconscious throwing a less idylic scene at him by pretending to ignore this one. And besides, last night had been, all totaled, a huge relief- an unburdening of things left unsaid. This was probably the closest thing to therapy available to him these days, he might as well take advantage.

“I’m just...processing. Not to mention dealing with some mild dehydration.” He finally answered.

“Processing, huh? So does that mean you, uh, remember last night?” Anakin asked nervously.

“I do.” Obi-Wan smiled gently. As heart-wrenching as this was, it was also adorably sweet. Maybe it was worth it to push off waking for a little while. He could get some closure, maybe even work through some of the past to see where the two of them had gone wrong. It might even be helpful for Luke! Force willing, he would probably end up training Anakin’s son someday.

(the boy wouldn’t have many masters to choose from)

If this dream world could help him figure out specifically how he had failed as a Master, then he owed it to the galaxy to see it through. Satisfied, he resolved to let the fantasy play out. At least for a few more more hours. And...he had missed what Anakin had said. Wonderful start.

“I’m very sorry, Anakin would you mind repeating that? I was still a little distracted, but I promise, I’m focused on you now.”

Anakin shuffled nervously. “It’s nothing.”

Obi-Wan tried to project reassurance without actually projecting. “Please Anakin, I’d like to hear what you have to say. I know I wasn’t the most observant or approachable Master, and I’m sorry for that. But I have always cared about your thoughts and feelings.” It was a struggle and the words caught in his throat, but the raw burn of the apology was cleansing in an almost addictive way.

Anakin flushed. “Did you mean everything you said?” he asked nervously.

“I’d...rather not talk about seeing the destruction of the temple, seeing you... Maybe later...but please, I just don’t want to focus on it while I’m sitting here, looking at you,” Obi-Wan said quietly.

“That actually wasn’t what I was talking about,” Anakin responded quickly. “I mean, I do want to help you with that at some point, but I get not wanting to talk about visions, even if you should probably should. Of course if you do want to talk about that stuff, that’s more important, but since you don’t we can talk about the other stuff you mentioned. I was more referring to, you know, us, and what you said about our friendship?” his voice got progressively higher the longer he rambled. 

Obi-Wan thought back. “Well some of it is a little hazy, but overall yes. I...for a very long time I’ve considered you my best friend, and its not so easy for me to let go of my affections. I miss spending time with you; there are times I turn to say something and am still shocked you’re not there. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, with real words, how much I cared. I’m sorry I didn’t hug you as much as I wanted, looking back that was a nonsensical Jedi custom. It’s not in the code; it’s just an affectation of dignity. All things considered, the fact that you often snuck out to see Padme doesn’t really bother me.” He paused. “Was that everything?”

“Oh. Yeah, that pretty much covered everything.” Anakin looked embarrassed, but happy. “I wasn’t sure if you were just saying that stuff because you were drugged, or really drunk or something.”

“No, I meant what I said. I suppose it just took an altered state for me to relax enough to actually say it instead of just thinking at you and assuming you would know. I must admit, its difficult for me to maintain this emotional honesty without feeling drunk, but it’s good. This is good.”

“Ah, that’s... wow. So you weren’t drugged? Cody was concerned you seemed to off for much you actually drank.”

Obi-Wan frowned. Hadn’t that been a trip? Vision blurring from desert hovel to some nameless Catina he once visited with Cody. The continuity since then was almost unsettling. But, then again, Obi-Wan always did have a remarkable talent for self-delusion, didn’t he. He waved away the concerns.

“My substance consumption was entirely deliberate and exactly what I needed. There might have been some unknown additions with some unforeseen after-affects, but like I said- I’m not drunk. I’m clear minded and in full control right now and I knowingly accept the current fallout from whatever I took. I could meditate and force purge to completely recenter, but I think it would be far wiser to just see where this goes. Do you disagree, Anakin?”

Anakin grinned widely. “Whatever you say, Obi-Wan. Just remember this is your idea. Also, I’m taking you to the healers tonight if you’re not completely back to yourself.”

Obi-Wan signed, “If I’m not back to myself in 12 hours, than I fully agree that’s a problem worthy of the halls of healing.”

“Right,” Anakin nodded decisively, “I’ll go get you some water then comm Cody to tell him you’re still alive.

Obi-Wan smiled weakly in response. This wasn’t just a hashed up memory; the responsiveness was more that. He quickly got dressed, hands lingering over soft fabrics and sand-free linens.

Anakin dropped off a cup of water; Obi-Wan sipped at it hesitantly. Dear force, this was dangerously vivid. It actually felt like a relief in his parched mouth. Clearly his subconscious was pulling out all the stops to trap him in this soft delusion. He would have to deal with the thirst and hunger until he woke up- it was probably the firmest link he had to his real body.

He took one last look around before rushing out of his room, eager to take advantage of the time.

Anakin looked nervously up from the comm when Obi-Wan started pulling his boots on. “You’re not going out in the temple like this, are you?”

“Of course! I want to visit the gardens and the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Not to mention spend some time with a few of the other Jedi. You might still be the dearest being in my heart, but there were other Jedi that I care for, and dammit I’m going to tell them that.” He finally finished lacing up his left leg and moved to the right.

Anakin was dumbstruck, presumably as burnt by the ‘dearest being’ comment as Obi-Wan was. Then he rallied, “Wow, wow, No. You are not running around the temple drugged so you can, I don’t know, give Mace Windu a hug. I thought when you said you were going to ‘deal with the fallout' from whatever the kriff you’re still on, you meant you were going to lounge around the quarters all day!”

His former padawan physically blocked the door when Obi-Wan started to leave, sounding vaguely hysterical, “You can’t run around loopy! You’re a High Council Member!”

“Not anymore,” Obi-Wan replied bitterly. 

“What do you mean not anymore,” Anakin said fiercely, grabbing on to his shoulders . “Did they kick you out? Is that why you’re acting crazy? Did you resign?”

Obi-Wan responded by pulling Anakin into a hug, which was immediately returned, “Of course not, don’t be absurd. Fine, I suppose I’m technically still a high council member, it just seems like a bit of a moot point.”

“What the kark does that mean? You used to dream about being on the council! You’re the wisest Master in any of those stupid chairs!”

‘Master of the High Council’ Kenobi just sighed heavily in response. He maneuvered around the confused errant Knight and into the hall. 

"Obi-Wan wait! At least eat something first! Or let me put my shoes on!”

“Very well, you have one minute to make yourself presentable. I only have a few hours before I’m going to need to get back to reality, and the longer I linger the more I fear extreme measures may be necessary.”

“What does that mean?” Anakin shouted from inside. “Extreme measures sounds really ominous, you know.”

“I’d rather not get into it, alright? Let’s just enjoy the here-and-now, eh, ad’ika?

Anakin crashed out the door with less than a second to spare. “What did you just call me?"

“Ad’ika,” Obi-Wan answered, striding down the hallway in the direction of the hanging gardens. “Surely you must have picked up some Mando’a from the troopers?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t sure if I heard you right, bu- um- ori'vod,” Anakin fumbled out. “Uh, you’re not going to call me that in front of anyone else, right? You do remember that the council already gives us the side eye for over-attachment right?”

Obi-Wan hummed thought fully in responded. “There are far worse things a Jedi could do than admit to affection they already feel. Maybe if I had been honest about my attachments, they wouldn’t have ended the way that...” he trailed off quietly.

“The way that what,” Anakin asked frustrated. “You’re really giving me some emotional whiplash over here, and I’m starting to think that putting off dragging you to the healers is a stupid idea.

“There are far stupider things a Jedi could do,” he responded cheerily. “Oh look, there’s Plo Koon. MASTER KOON!” He shouted, startling the Kel Doran Jedi.

“Yes, Master Kenobi?” He replied slightly concerned as the two human Jedi came jogging over.

“I just wanted to say that I consider my former padawan my family. I raised him, I care for him deeply, and I don’t want to let go of those feelings.”

Plo Koon nodded seriously in response. “I feel just the same about my former padawans, and the Wolffe pack, of course. Denying my attachments isn’t, personally, a practical way to handle them. I’d rather honestly live as an imperfect Jedi than pretend to be a perfect example of the code. If I must have some imbalance, I’d rather it be an excess of compassion than a dearth,” he replied earnestly.

“I always admired that about you,” Obi-Wan replied ruefully. “This might be a little odd, but could I have a hug? I hold you in the highest regard and I’ve realized that there are so many Jedi that I never directly expressed my affection for and...”

Plo Koon didn’t wait for Obi-Wan to finish before wrapping his arms around him. “Of course, dear boy. You’ve had such heavy burdens placed on your shoulders during your life, especially in the last few years; it saddens me to see how deeply they’ve weighed you down. If there’s anything I can do to help, in any way, you simply have to ask.”

Obi-Wan sniffled slightly into Plo’s Shoulder while Plo rubbed soothing circles over his back.

A few passing Jedi gave the embracing Masters uncomfortable looks before hurrying on their way. Anakin stood slack-jawed.

When they finally pulled back, Plo Koon hesitated before finally asking, “I don’t mean to pry, but what brought all this on? I can sense much grief from you, even through your impressive shields.”

“It’s a long story,” Obi-Wan replied, wiping at the corner of his eyes. “I’d rather not get into it.”

“He’s high,” Anakin offered bluntly. “He took something last night and won’t go to medical wing.”

“Ah,” Plo said. “Is that true?”

Obi-Wan looked a little embarrassed. “I have the situation under control. My connection with reality might be...slightly altered right now, but my emotions, and what I chose to do with them are my own. I’m just, taking advantage of a unique opportunity to express myself.”

Plo Koon seemed to scrutinize him intensely, “If you’re sure this is what you need, than I support you. Just don’t do anything too foolish.” he finally offered.

Obi-Wan beamed. “I appreciate you saying so, I thought you would be supportive. Farewell, Master Koon”

Obi-Wan offered a respectful bow and then turned to walk away briskly. Before Anakin could follow, Plo rested a claw on his arm. 

“Feel free to comm me if his behavior reaches a point where you think he truly needs a healer. I’m happy to help you drag him there if need be. A little cathartic release isn’t in of itself such a bad thing, but if he starts acting too out of control...”

Anakin nodded in acknowledgment, then ran off to see who else Obi-Wan had chosen to throw himself at.

Part Four

#star wars #obi-wan needs a hug #obi-wan gets a hug #star wars au no 27 #suicidal misunderstanding au #my au #time travel #hello there #@whatsup-gorls #and #@im-da-bronx #i googled what a tag list was and was a bit intimidated by the whole big multistep spreadsheet thing sorry #so i will probably not be doing a tag list for the near future #in any reliable sense #but i am very flattered you asked and am psyched you enjoy the story because i am also very excited about it #also to #@rainbowfam100 #i saw your comment and just thought oh no me too #star wars au #sw #fanfiction #i keep wanting to tag this au with angst and then i read it over and its mostly hugs so know that there WILL be angst #but i guess were not really there yet #ive already written a big chunk of angst with only 2 hugs and both of them are very angsty so i feel confident in my prediction

[onlymexsarah]

Prince Friedrich | Amore e Psiche

MAIN MASTERLIST

Request 1: “ i loved both jealousy and taste of sin so much!! 😍😍you literally made my day better. i would love to see more of them together. maybe how them courting or their first encounters? 😇🥲”

Request 2: “ I cant say i saw anything wrong with your prince friedrich imagine. I actually really fooocking loved it 🥰 💕!! It was so 🥰 cute!! I need more! Would you be willing to do a prequel of sorts where she met him and their walks in the park? Or even from his perspective of his first thoughts of the reader? “

Summary: (This is the prequel of “Prince Friedrich | Jealousy”) the behaviour of your sister Daphne brought you to meet Prince Friedrich at the ball with the Queen. 

Pairing: Prince Friedrich x Bridgerton!reader

Warnings: my english :)

A/N: For this one I got inspired by the story of Cupid and Psyche, if you don’t know it I leave you there a summary because there will be many allusions at their story ;)

SEQUEL 1 - SEQUEL 2

“Do you think that he will speak german? Or maybe he knows english? Oh, do you recon if His Highness had ever travelled?” you asked excited at your brother, Benedict, while you entered at the ball.

“I do not know, sister. You can ask these question to him personally, tonight.” he said ironical smiling at the Lords who walked beside you. 

“If he will have time for them, my dear brother. I am sure that if he’ll want peace he will have to disappear somewhere where the Ladies will be not able to find him.” you both laughed searching around the room your sister Daphne.

“Be careful with that tounge, Y/n. You know that I love you for that, but not many Lords will think the same.” he warned you kindly knowing that your temper wasn’t like the others Ladies.

“Fortunately I don’t want many Lords. I think that Lord de Bethencourt had hit the right string in me, and he likes me for who I am, Benedict.” you smiled thinking about your suitor, Lord de Bethencourt, that since the first ball had started courting you as a true gentleman without boring or offending you in any ways. “Look, there is my sister with...Simon.” 

Benedict could hear your smirk even without looking at you, indeed his attention was captured by the opening of the large doors followed by the entrance of Queen Charlotte with her nephew, Prince Friedrich of Prussia. 

“Oh, they are arri...ved....” your breating stopped for few seconds causing Benedict to look at you; however your gaze was fixed on the guy who’s arm was intertwined with the Queen’s. You would had sworn to have seen Cupid himself revealing his face for the first time as he did with Psyche after their marriage. When his eyes met yours, you were sure that Canova must had taked ispiration from him for Cupid’s sculpture, because never in your life you had ever seen such beauty as the Prince himself.

“I will be not surprise when you will drag Colin in Prussia at your next travel.” Benedict joked smirking looking the Prince who now was approaching your sister. 

You woke up from your dreams blinking many times to understand what was happening. The Prince now was speaking with Daphne but at some point she laughed, and from his face you could see that he hadn’t say something funny. “Well, surely now he knows how the Bridgertons are.” you said shrugging slightly keeping your elegant posture. “One of us should go and apologies for her.”

You looked Benedict, he looked you. Both wanted to send the other because neither of you liked to speak with the Queen. “Look your Charming Prince is coming, I must let you to know him.”

“What! No you must stay here and intimidate him! It is what you brothers are made for.” you tried to keep his arm in your hands without looking clumsy, but obviously he was stronger than you.

“Trust me, sister, you can intimidate him perfectly by yourself.” he gave you one last smirk before slipping away among the people leaving you alone. You heard the heels of the Queen approaching, and with still your amused smile you turned around ready to meet them.

The Prince’s eyes were already on you making your cheeks turned into a soft pink. His smile suggested you that he had assist at the scene with your brother, even if he couldn’t hear what you said, and when the Queen spoke briefly about you he wasn’t surprise to know that you were also a Bridgerton. He noticed happily that you were a particular family.

“Miss Y/n Bridgerton, he is Your Highness Prince Friedrich of Prussia.” the cold voice of the Queen interrupted you from staring Prince’s eyes. 

“Your Grace, it’s a pleasure meeting you.” you bowed slowly wanting to remember at the Queen that Daphne wasn’t the only one who could bow in a charming way. 

“Please, my aunt loves the title, but Prince Friedrich is more than enough, Miss Bridgerton.” he smiled kindly at you when you stood up. He bowed too, kissing your hand over your glove charmed by your smile. He had the pleasure to see it long before approaching, when the smile had began more polite and less amused. He saw you interacting with your brother in such a natural way that he couldn’t not think that you were the only two people who didn’t hide behind a mask.

“I hope you enjoied the journey, Prince Friedrich. I heard that the English Channel is not always so kind with its sailors.” he appreciated that you didn’t say the same questions or senteces of the others Ladies he met, but instead you chose to make an indirect question adding a true fact and leaving him the word.

“I was lucky, the sky was blue and the sun had welcomed us with the warmest of its rays.” you were happy to hear the German accent in his voice while he kept speaking, like you had imagined since the news of his arrival. 

“I am happy to hear that, and I wanted to apologies for the behaviour of my sister, few moments ago. We are a very...vivacious family.” you giggled at your last words thinking about all the time that you and your brothers had made your mother loosing her mind. 

He could not hold a laugh at your comment, knowing perfectly what meant growing up in a big family with people you love. He ignored Queen’s eyes on him that was waiting to walk away; he just staied still admiring your features while with still your smile on you were looking the couples who were ending their dance.

“Have you had already the pleasure to dance, Lady Y/n?” he asked curious letting the Queen understand that he hadn’t the intention of going away. 

“Unfortunately, not yet. I have arrived few minutes before you, Your Grace, and your arrival had shadowed my presence here, I think.” you raised an eyebrow turning your gaze on him. Benedict was right, you could intimidate people by your own and you had so much fun doing that, because it was beautiful seeing the men taken back by a woman. 

He raised his hand offering it to you with shining eyes and a little bow. “Your beauty is too shiny to be shadowed; I beg you to let me repair at what I have done. Perhaps with a dance?” 

The Queen looked him shocked while your smile grew bigger. “I do not think it will be appropriate, Friedrich.” she said worried.

“It is my fault that this beautiful Lady has not been invited to dance yet, I cannot let to this injustice to happen.” he felt his heart lighter when he heard your laugh. 

You took his hand happily to have the power of doing something that the Queen didn’t approve; she had made the mistake to understimate you just because your vitality that a Lady shouldn’ t have, and now you were taking her nephew away under he own nose. “I suppose a dance can repair your damage, Prince Friedrich.”

You hadn’t realize that you were actually to be about to dance with a Prince, untile all the eyes were on you. You two were let alone at the centre of the room, standing in front of each other without looking away from the other’s eyes. Whispers could be heard around you, Benedict was looking the face of the mothers around him to make a laugh while Daphne was positively surprised with beside her Simon had a huge grin on his face. 

After bowing you stepped closer to let one of his hand resting on your hips while with the other he took yours. You rested your left hand on his shoulder and the music began covering the whispers and leaving the only two of you to dance.

“It is a honor being your first dance of tonight, Lady Bridgerton.” he said breaking your silent. 

“You flatter me, Your Grace.” he spinned you taking all the space you wanted since no one had yet joined you. “Although you stil haven’t meet my all family; you would find yourself less honored and more...longing to walk away and never meet us again.”

With your surprise he laughed lowering his head a little looking the ground for a moment. He felt attracted by your humor; it made him feel more relaxed and it brought him memories about his childhood with his cousins with who he was used play and laugh every day.

“I find it quite impossible, my Lady, but tell me something about you...I heard that you are a traveller; which place has the unattainable fortune to own your heart?” his voice was smooth and sweet but still with the firmness of a Prince. You wondered if the choice of wearing the same blue of his eyes had been his own choice or it was you that sometime observed too much.

“I’ve been in few places with my brother, Lord Colin Bridgerton, but I hope to see more.” he nodded understanding the feeling. “I found Scotland quite lovely, but if I have to be honest, my heart would like to take a little farm in Ireland and settle there among the green of its beautiful landscape.” 

More you two spoke, and more he noticed how much things you had in common. You hadn’t problem to talk sincerely, you knew he was out of your league; in that room there were few Ladies who could be a future princess, and you were very aware that one of them was your sister. However the feeling that Cupid was in front of you in all his beauty was still in your chest; you couldn’t even decide which part of him you liked the most, because every thing of him matched perfectly together; his warm smile suggested the humility he had, his big blue eyes seemed belong to a baby who looked everywhere with wonder and his curly blonde hair looked like freshly cut wheat. 

When the music ended you bowed at each other. He took your and kissing it without taking his eyes away from yours. Were butterflies those in your stomach? “You put me in a difficult position, my Lady. I cannot compliment with a part of you without mention the others.” his smile and his voice made you blush while he was still holding your hand. “You are a wonderful woman, Miss Y/n, and a divine dancer. I shall look to meet you again, if you allow me.”

You felt your heart beat fast in your chest, almost as it wanted to speak with Prince Friedrich personally. “Your words enchant me, Prince Friedrich. I would be more than delighted to talk with you again, maybe next time you could tell me about Prussia and suggest some place to visit for my next journey.”

“I will be not surprise when you will drag Colin in Prussia at your next travel.” you heard Benedict’s voice in your head laughing at you, but the Prince’s presence was like a drug to you.

“I will look forward to hear about your journeys, my Lady.” with a last smile, you walked in different directions still with all the eyes on you. 

He found himself looking for you around the room more often than he were conscious; he learned fast that the gentleman with who you danced few times was Lord de Bethencourt, a French Lord who since your first debut had expresses the interest he had toward you in the most romantic way. He saw you two laughing, speaking and dancing with a chemistry he envied. When you would laugh due something that Lord de Bethencourt had whispered in your ear, he would ask himself what he had said to you and the same when you were commited in a deep conversation about God knew what.

The Queen had tried to make him dance with Daphne, but he wasn’t blind and he could see the affection that your sister shared with Simon, but at some point of the night Lady Cressida fainted in his arms catching the attention of everyone. 

You saw with a smile that the two of them made a beautiful couple, and Cressida had always radiated royalty in everything she did. To be honest, it didn’t touch you at all; you had enjoied Prince’s company and the dance had made many gentlemen coming to you and ask for a dance so who you were to complain?

When you fell asleep you could not ask yourself why Cupid had decided to reveal his face at you so soon when with Psyche he tried to hide it everytime. You didn’t know there could exist such beauty in just a person, and still the Prince where there, in your same city and you had shared a dance together. You wished that just like Psyche, Cupid would come to you and take you away to live together, but this time Cupid was a Prince, and as a Prince he could not avoid his duty.

Dear readers,

I know you were waiting the edition of the morning, and after what happened last night at the ball I can understand you.

If you weren’t at the ball then you didn’t assist at the rivelation of the season. We all know that Daphne Bridgerton had been declared the Diamond of the season by the Queen herself, but it was another Lady who danced with Your Highness of Prussia. Indeed, Prince Friedrich and Lady Y/n Bridgerton had shared their first dance together under the disapproval look of the Queen.

Surely Lady Violet must be excited to have under her roof a future Duchess and a future Princess, and if you think that I am too fast to judge then you didn’t see Miss Y/n and Prince Friedrich at all. But Prince Friedrich must had seen that Lady Bridgerton had already a suitor, the handsome gentleman Lord de Bethencourt, I am sure we all are curious to see what will happen.

However the Prince seemed to have taked the attention of another suitable Lady, Miss Cressida Cowper. The young woman had fainted between the arm of Prince Friedrich and he helped her like a real Charming Prince, but if your eyes had fallen on Lady Y/n for a moment you could have seen that she was smiling, and not a polite one, but a true smile! 

Is it possible that the charm of our Charming Prince didn’t charmed her at all? Maybe her heart is already living in France, but I would not be surprise if in few day the Prussia will reclaim her heart as its own.

If something happen, I will be the first to tell you.

Yours, Lady Whistledown. 

“How was the Prince? Did he invite you at palace? Was he like the princes of the farytails?!” the shrill voice of Hyacinth filled the room in the exact moment you entered in the Living room the next morning.

“Let your sister breath, Hyacinth. Come sweatheart, sit here and tell us about last night.” your mother said making you sit on the couch beside her excited.

“Mama, I stop you here before you start to hyperventilate. We shared only one dance and it was beacuse I almost forced him to do so.” you giggled at the lovely memory of your dance.

“Although, he didn’t seem forced. I would say he quite enjoied your dance.” Benedict said slyly and you launched a pillow at him hitting his face.

“You were beautiful together, Y/n. Everyone couldn’t stop looking at you during the ball.” Daphne said smiling sweetly making you blush.

“Stop! All of you. It was only a dance and-”

You were interrupted by three servants who entered in the room with three baskets of flowers. “A gift for Miss Y/n Bridgerton.” 

They put the flowers on the table leaving all of you Bridgerton looking at each other curious. It wasn’t unusual that someone sent you gifts, but no one had ever sent you so many flowers; usually it was enough just one baskets or few rose. 

“Whoever send these must want your hand badly.” joked Colin while you walked toward the table. 

“Maybe he will, look at this Lilies!” Lilies were your favourite flower, indeed there was a spot in the park full of them where you were used to go whenever you wanted to relax alone.

You took the ticket that was on the second baskets seeing that there was your name written with an elegant handwriting. “Make sure to read it out loud, sister.” said Anthony with a smirk.

“Lovely Miss Y/n,

the memory of our dance took the charge of my thoughs and the time we shared together seems a dream. My heart wish to hear more about your journeys and dreams, I hope my presence in the park these days will be accepted from you and perhaps we could talk again.

In the meantime, I thought about what you said of living in a little farm in Ireland, and I could not resist but imagine that these flowers would be perfect in your future garden.

Sincerely, Prince Friedrich.”  your voice had become exciter after the first part of the letter, and now you didn’t know if it was a dream or it was all real.

“I didn’t know that in Prussia had such low standard:” Benedict.

“Our sister will become a Princess!” Colin.

“Yes, a Princess who will make all the Prussia crazy due her talkativeness .” Anthony. 

“Y/n Bridgerton! Did you tell at the Prince that you want to live in a farm?!” Lady Violet yelled shocked by her own daughter actions.

“In my defence he liked it!” you said trying to hold a laugh. “And then...come on! Who would ever imagine that he was truly listening me?! I though, and still thing, that he is out of my league so why not being sincere?”

“Well, I would dare to say that he was truly listenting you.” said Benedict giggling earning a death glare from you.

“It is his fault!” you pointed at him looking your mother.

“Why mine?” he stood up suddenly confused.

“He left me alone when the Prince was approaching! I was unsupervised, and you know what happen when I am unsupervised.” you hoped that it would be a good excuse, but the look of your mother said otherwise. “Alright, when I’ll see him again I say that I’ve lied, my real dream is living in a huge castle full of jewerly, rules and boring stuff. Because we all know how much I love the boring stuff.” 

Your drammatic tone made everyone laugh until the arrival of the first suitors for you and your sister. 

You tried to stay focus on what they were saying, but every now and then your eyes felt on the baskets of flowers that were on the table worring about what the Prince was doing. Had he visisted some Lady? Maybe Lady Cressida? Or maybe he sent flowers to all the Ladies with who he had danced the last night...you wouldn’t be surprise since you had seen how much was big his kindness.  

Waking up with the sight of his flowers in your bedroom made your next mornings starting in a good way. That afternoon you would meet Lord de Bethencourt at the park, and in a hidden place of your mind you were hoping to see Prince Friedrich there. 

You had the beautiful idea to taking a walk with the horses so you had the opportunity to put on your new dark blue suit. The clouds were covering the sun colouring the air around you of a light shade of grey, indeed there weren’t many people out letting you two to enjoy the company of each other. 

“And what was the thing that inspired a lovely lady like you to learn French?” Lord de Bethencourt asked you curious.

“You see, my Lord, with my passion for travelling the desire to know other languages came by itself. It wasn’t easy at the beginning, I must say, but I find it so romantic that I could not stay in my ignorance.” you looked over his shoulder for a moment seeing a blonde haired head sitting not far away from you.

“There is so many places in France that would be lucky to being seen by you, my Lady. Perhaps the next time shall I talk about them?” he asked taking firmly his reins ready to return at his home.

“You must, Lord de Bethencourt. I wish you a good night.” you smiled at him and after having wished you a good day he kicked his horse making him trot away. 

Could you go home and relax with a good book and warm blankets? Yes.

Did you wanted to do so? Absolutely no.

So in a very natural way you turned around your horse and went towards the blonde haired man you had seen few moments before. The park was huge so you started to look around enjoing the green that was around you and looking the swan that was in the middle of the little lake at your right.

Few metres before the man, who you saw was sitting at a table admiring the lake, some guards stopped you and your waitress from going further. “I am sorry Miss, but you cannot get closer.” 

“Then would you be so kind to guide me at home toward another street?” you replied with fake concern. You knew very well that there were plenty other street that would bring you home, but you wanted some fun earning his attention. 

“I am really sorry Miss, but I cannot let you go further.” he looked truly sorry, but most of the men forget that a woman has more power than what they believe; indeed it was you favourite hobby making the Lords apologies with you for whatever and whenever you want.

“Then let me adjust this problem.” you cleared your throat holding the smirk that fought so hard to be free. “Your Highness! When you said that you would like to stay in my company again I didn’t expect that you would forbid me to go home.” 

Prince Friedrich turned around looking surprised at you. The guard’s mouth felt open while you kept your sweet smile on your face rather amused by all the situation. 

“Lady Bridgerton, for a moment I though to have seen a mirage...tell me, my guard had been unkind to you?” he walked closer to you, but you didn’t get off the horse kepping your back straight and looking him up down.

“There is not enough sun for a mirage, Prince Friedrich; unfortunately it’s just me.” you let out a giggle and a smile appeared on his face. “Although, no you guard didn’t do anything out of your orders, but I was unhappy when I found out that I couldn’t get back at home...”

“Your unhappiness bring me pain, my Lady.” he brought a hand to his heart bowing respecfully. “I cannot say that I am not pleased to see you again. Can I apologies for this misunderstanding wìth a cup of tea?” 

You smiled with pride seeing that you made the Prince asking you sorry twice without even commit yourself too much. You looked behind you your brother Anthony that had been your silent chaperon for all day and after he gave you a nod smirking you turned your attention to the Prince again.

“How could I say no after the wonderful flowers you sent me?” he offered happily his hand to help you to get off the horse and you accepted it gladly. When a guard approached to take your horse you looked at him carefully. “Be careful with her. She is not fond with men due her...brutal childhood, so be kind and treat her as a Princess, because she is, right Cassidy?” you caressed your horse affectionately before giving the reins at the guard. 

“What happened to Cassidy?” the Prince asked curious bringing you at the table and holding the chair for you.

“She was born to race. Her first owners used to do illegal races and it wasn’t unusual for them to beat her to make her run faster. My brother, Lord Anthony Bridgerton, found them and all the horses had been selt, but she was frightened by everything; so an afternoon I decided to visit Cassidy and day by day I took care of her.” you said lost in your memories with a little smile on your lips. 

“She had been very lucky to find you, Miss Y/n, and do you like riding often?” he offered you a cup of tea that you took thanking him kindly.

“Oh yes. Mostly when I want to go in the countryside and take a walk among the green. I find horses beautiful animals.” 

“I agree. So, I hope I had helped your immagination with those flowers.” he smiled with a little blush on his cheeks. If Cupid owned already such beauty, why he must own even the most melodious voice that your ear had ever heard? Wasn’t enought enchanting your eyes? What did he want from a normal human like you? Why didn’t he fly to his Psyche and let you live happily?

“These flowers made me dreams more vividly about my future garden, Prince Friedrich, and your words had been poesy for my eyes.” he must had done something to your tea, because with few words you were drunk of his presence. You didn’t dare to allow you to dream about a future with him, because you knew he was a dream to live day by day so that when you would wake up you would not have any regrets. 

You talked and talked; he made you laugh and your spontaneity made him attracted to you even more. He watched your smile, your eyes, your pink cheeks and the beautiful light that turned on everytime you talked about something you loved. He found out that weren’t you only a strong woman, but you were also acculturated, clever and smart; this made him liking even more your power to stand up for yourself even with men. 

“But if I will go to France, the first thing I desire to see if the sculpture of Cupid and Psyche, their story affascinate my since I was a kid.” you ended your speech about the place you wished to go in the future.

“Such a beautiful love story. I read it long time ago and still it is in my head so vividly that I could recite some part of it.” he agreed completely absorbed in your conversation.

“Indeed, I dare to say that is one of my favourite love story ever. He, the god of love find love in a human girl due his own mistake, and to protect her and himself from the mother he decided to hide his face. I mean, yes his love started because one of his own arrow hit him, by I think it was destiny.” your voice was music to his ear, he wished to be able to listen you all day.

For a moment he seemed to see cupid behind you with his arrow pointed at his chest and when his eyes felt on your face again he could feel a strange feeling in his chest, as if Cupid’s arrow had hitten him for real. 

SEQUEL:  Jealousy and The Sweet Taste Of Sin 

#prince friedrich x reader #prince friedrich #prince fridrich bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #daphne bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton #bridgerton x reader

[tsurangaconundrum]

:$ akjerjifldvsildsvi i- honestly im flattered. i clarify that im doing this in a non creepy way because i asked my friend if she wanted 2 see my bones and she said it was very jeffery dahmer of me. fortunately i do not have the desire to taste my collection nor do i yearn for human stew. so its just because i think theyre neat and i like looking at skeletons and seeing how they fit together plus how different animals can have similar anatomy but specialized parts! fun fact! did u know squirrel teeth are /long/ like they go up into the skull rlly far. i did not.

i store them mostly outside wherever the dogs cant get to em, except the ones ive finished cleaning that i can store on my shelf.i fear for the day when it inevitably gets knocked over and i have to try and located 100 little rodent bones in the carpet. cleaning them is a helluva process tho like so many buckets and the folks i cohabitate with do not like it when i wash bones or leave buckets in the bathroom so i am not allowed to bring a bone inside until its 100%. this is a fair rule, i suppose. i am also not allowed to use the kitchen pots for boiling anything thats not food. this is also fair but i figured if i wash it after it'd be fine. better safe than sorry when it comes to bacteria ig lol.

also dude i'd be frickin psyched if someone wanted to take some bones i LOVE sharing them. my friend who insinuated i will become a serial killer actually took one home with her. the rest of my friends have informed me bones do not make good birthday gifts, no matter how cool they are. again, fair. my little sister makes jewelry with them sometimes.

YES i wore gloves oh LORD i am far past the point in my life where i do any of this bull barehanded. thats a lie. i try to wear gloves most of the time, but admittedly i am very absent minded. ie, i didnt have gloves coming out of the office but i didnt want to just shove a dead bird in my pocket, so i took off my mask and wrapped it in that and then shoved it in my pocket. i try to carry around a plastic bag with me at all times just in case i see some bones or roadkill or something.

i actually super enjoy looking at viscera, and tendons and all that. even though its kinda gross (evidently, maggots enter the body through an animal's orifices, or are otherwise injected, leaving the skin intact. once you get the feathers off the bird you can see them moving around in there. its very horror movie). considering my family its just never been all that weird to me, death is a part of life and humanity is to learn.

...guys will really see an ask button and then tell their whole life story. its me im guys. sorry about the essay, i got excited jafheuijwhjdsih. i leave you with this; i am just some guy. im short and twitchy and i dont always understand when it is and isnt appropriate to talk about my interests. and in a way arent we all. fuck. i had another thing to say but i forgot. what was the skeletons favorite instrument? the trom-bone

so many points. john mulaney we dont have time to unpack all of that. you amaze me dead bird anon. i could read a book about your skeleton pickup habits. i’m gonna have to agree with your housemates on the no cleaning bones in the cooking pots thing though. something about the thinness of the line between life sustaining and death that really. hm. i get the like. weird curiosity about viscera and stuff though in a cant look away kind of thing. your sister sounds metal as fuck. real bone earrings. genetically goth family (the addams family?? do i have wednesday addams in my inbox??). in conclusion. my jaw was hanging open the entire time i read that

#tw animal death #i cant stop looking at this ask #i did not know that about squirrels but then where i live has no squirrels #asks #dead bird anon

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

The Best Things ~ J.V. (part 4)

A.n: Lol so things are about to get very Adult Themed up in here. Children do not read thank you. My consious demands it.

Warnings: Light smut, dark themes, mention of rape

Word Count: 4200+

MASTERLIST

Playlist

They shouldn't have been caught as soon as they were... and yet.

The second Jerome and Y/n had gotten outside the fun house, they'd been overrun by cops. The two had made it pretty far, but then someone had tackled Y/n from behind. The boy had been surprised when, from his spot on the ground, he heard Jerome's voice of all people scream his name. The redhead had paused, allowing another cop to take him down as well. Now they were being transported. Jerome, to Arkham, and Y/n just to regular jail. They hadn't determined him criminally insane yet, though it seemed to be going that direction as Y/n and Jerome spent the entire ride flirting with each other and cracking up at each other's jokes. They'd only quieted when each of the cops in the back with them held two guns to Y/n and Jerome respectively, threatening them. Jerome hadn't been that quiet or still for a while.

Y/n was the first to be escorted out of the back of the truck, arms handcuffed behind him. He was taken into GCPD offices, a smile on his face. One that promptly was wiped clean off when he was pushed inside and Jim Gordon stood waiting for him, Bruce and Alfred on either side of him.

Bruce moved first. He jogged to Y/n, a mixed expression on his face. The last time he'd seen Bruce, they'd been much different people. Y/n had left him behind to train with Penguin- no doubt Gordon had told him about the event, and surely he'd seen Y/n right at Oswald's side ever since. Until tonight, where Y/n had been found with Jerome- considered the worst of all the Gotham psychos.

Despite everything, Bruce seemed to be worried and relieved for the most part. The two boys stopped as they stood in front of each other. Bruce frowned, reaching up to touch his fingers to a wound on Y/n's forehead. It must have been from the tackle. Y/n hadn't noticed until now. "You're hurt." It wasn't a question so Y/n didn't respond back. Jim approached, motioning the officer that had Y/n to follow him. Y/n was pulled away and Bruce was left behind. Y/n ended up in an interrogation room, handcuffed and facing Bullock and Gordon. Y/n knew that Bruce was on the other side of the one sided glass, though, which meant that Alfred was too.

"Y/n," Gordon began. He seemed to pause, as if unsure how to continue.

So Y/n took his cue. "Why am I here? You have Jerome, so you can't be looking for information about him. If you want to determine my psyche and where I should end up, I mean I know I'm amazing but Jim Gordon and Commissioner Bullock? Here for little ol' me? I'm flattered, honestly." Both men looked at each other. It seems they didn't realize just how far lost Y/n was.

This tactic was new to Y/n, too. Oswald had taught him to be silent and unbreakable. Pleasant but unshakable. Like his dad used to be. Nice to talk to, leaving no option to backstab. It had been very different from how Y/n acted when he was just himself.

The cockiness and ease that Y/n exhibited now was a little mix of all the personas he'd most taken to or been taught over the years. There was the complete inhuman unaffectedness that had been taught to him by Angela, mixed with the ease that Oswald had taught him, the charisma he'd absorbed from Jerome in the short time they'd spent together, and his own energy he'd always been able to call on and struggled to hide. He felt like a new person again. A person he loved being.

"We're here because Bruce trusts us," Bullock said as the silence began to stretch. "You're in a safe place now, Y/n. You can talk to us. Tell us anything. Jerome is far away and can't hurt you. You can tell us what happened."

Oh. Y/n snorted. "You guys think Jerome kidnapped me and held me against my will or something?" Bullock cleared his throat. Y/n had always been told that he looked a lot like Bruce. He had differences, obviously, but as children people would try to get his attention thinking he was Bruce. Sometimes his mom would call him by his younger brother's name. Y/n realized it must be a little startling to see the actions he was displaying on a face so similar to his brother's, when Bruce was ever the staple good boy. Bruce would become a cop, if he didn't go into dad's business after all. Y/n would become... something else. It was becoming clearer as he grew older.

"What happened to you?" Jim asked. He was shaken, obviously upset and not quite able to grip the drastic difference in the Y/n he knew versus the boy in front of him.

Y/n rolled his head back, sighing. "A lot." He began bouncing a knee. "Do you want the whole life story?"

Jim crossed his arms. "I've got time."

Y/n chuckled softly. "I mean I have nothing to hide." He pushed his head forward, letting his eyes roam around the otherwise empty, bland room. He counted the cracks in the walls and memorized the paths they took as he spoke, keeping himself calm. This was a tactic he'd learned from therapy. "I mean I had a happy childhood. Parents have their favorites. Gotham had their favorite. Bruce was Mr. Perfect. But people liked me and I had parents who were supportive and loving or whatever, so there's that." He sighed again, closing his eyes. "Then they died. I got to take control of a company I wanted nothing to do with. And you know why?" Y/n opened his eyes, looking Jim directly in the eyes. "Because I was easy to manipulate. I was young and nieve and soft. Easy to bend and break and shape. It was easy to do whatever she wanted when it came from my mouth, because I was a Wayne."

"She?" Jim asked.

Y/n‘s jaw worked. "Angela. Angela Dyer." He swallowed, tasting bitterness in his mouth. "She was new to the business. Had worked there barely four years, which made her a newbie compared to the others who'd been working 20, 50, however some odd years. She was twenty years old. Not even old enough to drink. And she was pretty. Men aren't nice when they want something from a young, pretty girl. Especially in Gotham."

Jim shifted, obviously uncomfortable. "What does she have to do with you?"

"We were fast friends when I started being there. Close in age. Both new. The higher ups just wanted a Wayne present, but with her help I actually made a place for myself. Well-" he snorted. "A place for her. She moved up fast with my help. And all those men who used to walk all over her..." He shrugged. "I didn't ask questions about it."

Bullock's eyes widened."She killed them?"

"I think she just scared the shit out of them. Lots of threats, with me to back her up and hit the yes button when she needed. Manipulation. I think women are better at it than men, on average, but she was the best." His jaw locked and he took a few seconds to loosen it. "Pretty soon we were really close. Really close." He was looking at Bullock now. Training his gaze on the older man's. Drilling a message he didn't want to say. Bullock had gone inhumanly still. "She told me it was our little secret. That she just wanted to reward me after all our hard work."

"You were fourteen," He snapped, his hands curled into fists.

Y/n smiled. He actually smiled. "I didn't know what else to do. Boys don't have those problems. Or so I thought. She climbed the latter and taught me to keep my emotions bottled up. But I wasn't good at it. One day I yelled at her when she tried to... reward me that day." He swallowed. "I freaked out and asked her not to. She kissed me. Told me that she loved me and I loved her and it was okay because obviously I was enjoying it. Told me I couldn't be gay because-"

The room was heavy. "You're..."

"Yeah," Y/n croaked. "Only my parents knew. I haven't even told Alfred or Bruce, but I told her because I didn't want her to do it the first time. Or any other time. Tried to explain that I was gay and I didn't like it. She told me I couldn't be because my body was reacting to it, so obviously I was enjoying it." Y/n swallowed again. His mouth was getting dryer by the second. "One day I told her if she didn't stop I was going to tell someone. She told me that she loved me, like she always did. Except this time, she insisted that she needed me. That she couldn't handle just being friends with me. Told me she would kill herself if I broke up with her. As if we were dating-" His voice broke off, his eyes drilling holes into the wall.

Jim stepped forward. "She didn't-"

"She did." Y/n shook his head. "I thought it was my fault too for a long time, until finally Oswald convinced me otherwise." He shook his head. "I needed to get out of my childhood house. Away from Alfred and Bruce, who I couldn't even begin to explain to. Away from insanity and memories and near death experiences. So I went with Penguin, that night. He made me feel more powerful. More in control of my life. Helped me grow up and discover myself a little." Y/n grew quiet. "Did you know that the body has automatic responses to sexual actions that have nothing to do with pleasure? Me getting off had absolutely nothing to do with whether or not I wanted her to-" He cut off. "Edward Nygma told me that one." His voice was weak and broken. He shrugged. "So there's your sob story, Gordon. That's what happened to me. Now if you'll either send me to jail or let me return to Oswald, that would be appreciated. You see that mayor of yours is kind of my best friend and he's going through a hard time- why are you looking at me like that?"

Gordon and Bullock seemed to be sick to their stomachs. "Y/n..."

"What?" Y/n demanded.

"Oswald has been missing since yesterday. No one's seen him since the interview he ran out on." Y/n went pale. "We'll get on it, I promise, but he's missing." Jim went to step forward to bring some comfort to the handcuffed boy who had obviously been through a lot for it to have all happened in just one day, but Y/n jerked away.

"What are you going to do with me?" Y/n barked. "Jail or release? I need to get out there and do your guys' job for you, and if I have to break out it might take some time."

Jim's eyes widened. "Y/n-"

"Jail or release, Gordon? Tell me. NOW!"

It was quiet for a second. "We're sending you to Arkham." Y/n's jaw went slack. "You've spent all night with Jerome, and you're a close associate with Penguin, who's a known murderer."

"You don't have any proof that I-"

Bullock was suddenly very close to Y/n's face. "Look me in the face and tell me you have never killed a man. That killing wasn't part of your little escape from jail plan? That if we release you you won't turn around and go after whatever the cause of Penguin's disappearance and kill them too? Tell me that you don't agree with the way Jerome thinks and does things. I'll let you go."

Y/n felt rage. Rage like nothing else. Like he hadn't felt in a long time. Oswald has taught him how to control and hone that red feeling that had once seized him. Usually he could cultivate it into a weapon. Now... now it was freely causing havoc inside him again and he wanted to scream. "You wanna play friend but then keep me from helping the people I care about." Y/n spit in his face, causing the older man to jerk away, wiping it off. "Fuck you, Bullock."

Bullock looked at Gordon. "He didn't say it."

Jim nodded his head. "I can't believe you tried to escape and attack Commissioner Gordon right in front of me, Y/n."

"What-?" And then Jim punched him in the face and everything went black.

When Y/n woke up, he was in a different room. Similar but obviously not the same. He sat up and looked down to see that he was in a prison jumpsuit, but it was black and white striped instead of orange. Fittingly, the room he was in was grey cement and bare, with a bed that he now lay on, another across from him, a small window slightly above him, and steel, black bars instead of a door. Was this Arkham? It wasn't as bad as Y/n had thought- at least as far as living conditions went. There didn't seem to be rats or bugs or leaking. He could get used to this.

The door opened. "Ah and how lucky for you to be awake just in time for lunch." It was an officer that Y/n didn't recognize. The man was much older and seemed to be annoyed even as he smiled. "You've been out for a whole day. Didn't think you were gonna make it." Y/n got the sense the guard was disappointed he had.

Standing silently, Y/n followed as the guard motioned him. He was unsure of how this place worked, so he moved tentatively. Calm but ready. Standing to his full height, eyes moving carefully as he stayed aware of his surroundings. His face was a sort of collected calm and he moved slowly at first, only speeding it up when the guard shoved something in his back. Probably a baton.

The two men ended up in a large room at the end of the hallway which was filled with tables that had benches attached to them. "This is the Big Room," the guard told Y/n lazily. "You eat here mostly, but you can go here for free time too, unless you want to stay in your cell." There was a door that lead into the Big Room. It opened loudly, causing every eye to be drawn to the two new people entering. "Good luck," the officer purred. "You seem like a calm one. They eat calm ones up in here." Then the officer stepped back and the door closed and Y/n was alone.

He looked around the room for an open seat, suddenly feeling like he was in high school again. He didn't have a clique. He didn't have somewhere to sit. He didn't know how this system of people worked. What if he sat with the wrong person and literally got murdered? Was there a chance the guards cared about the inmates enough to save their life? Y/n doubted it, if the guard from earlier was any indication.

Thoughts were cut off as an excited, "Y/N!" sounded. The called boy looked over to see red hair and a ginormous grin. Instantly Y/n switched gears, a smile of his own rising to his face. Jerome threw his arm over Y/n's shoulders. The Wayne boy tried not to get too giddy about the gesture as the redhead moved back to the table he must have been sitting at before Y/n came in. "You know I didn't think you'd end up in here too. Does that make you crazy after all?" He snorted, obviously amused by the idea of either of them being unsound of mind. Or maybe that was just another Jerome thing. Perhaps he just found insanity and instability funny.

"In the eyes of the people," Y/n answered.

Jerome tittered excitedly. "We're gonna have so much fun! They're so quiet and dull, I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come."

"You're a clever man, J." Y/n's voice was solid, even as his eyes were trained to Jerome and his smile was so wide it already hurt. "I'm sure you would have thought of something."

Someone scoffed. "Are you flirting with him?"

The man was big- both wide and tall- and bald. He looked scary, and also like an idiot. He had that simple minded vibe. Like he could hit, and that's all he could do. Not that it invalidated just how good he could hit though...

"What if I am?" Y/n met the man's eyes directly. He felt a surge of confidence with Jerome next to him.

Jerome hooked Y/n's chin as the men stared each other down. "Eyes on me now, doll." He winked and Y/n relaxed, smiling. "What are we gonna do first?"

Y/n rose an eyebrow, smirking in amusement. "What is there to do in a prison for the criminally insane?"

Jerome laughed. It suddenly cut off and the redhead was invading Y/n's space significantly. "Your imagination is the limit, really."

Y/n suddenly had a very active imagination. He cleared his throat but didn't move his gaze from Jerome, even though he wanted to. He could feel his face on fire and he wanted to shift away. Give himself space to breathe. It was very hot and it was becoming burdensome and annoying. Y/n had never once been this attracted to a single person. He'd had crushes- which is how he knew he was gay- but nothing serious. Nothing commanding and controlling. Why now, when he was most sure he never wanted to feel this way? Why here, when he was locked up and his best friend was missing after being betrayed by his love? Why now when Y/n should have been most against romance and most focused on finding Oswald and making sure his friend was okay, was he so smitten by this psychotic redhead?

Fuck it. Y/n wasn't getting out anytime soon- what was even the point of anything other than just giving in?

"I could think of a few things." Someone groaned, but Jerome's grin was enough to chase Y/n's shame away completely.

"Maybe I could pull off something special for you," Jerome mused. "Just once."

Looking away finally, Y/n sat down. "I heard it was lunchtime. Maybe we could start there." Jerome plopped down, eagerness unperturbed. If Y/n was being honest, his own enthusiasm was also unfazed. He didn't know what Jerome was thinking, but he was down for whatever. As long as it involved any single one of the things he was currently thinking about.

Y/n didn't expect Jerome to get it planned and done so soon.

It was dark and Y/n lay in his bed, looking at the ceiling. The guard had told him he'd be getting a roommate eventually when they were sure of how stable he was and how capable he would be and with who and blah blah blah blah blah-

For all their talk about safety, Y/n was only minority surprised to see the door open only to reveal Jerome Valeska strolling inside, the door closing behind him. "Miss me?"

Y/n grinned, chuckling softly as he rolled his eyes. "You're my cellmate?"

"The one and only." Jerome moved closer then seemed to hesitate and moved away instead. He went to the other bed, plopping down and crossing his legs before laying back, his hands behind his head and his smirk wide and charming. "You're quite interesting, Y/n. Are you aware?"

Y/n shrugged. "Not really."

Jerome narrowed his eyes, not smirking anymore. He obviously didn't like to be contradicted. "Why not?"

"People usually prefer my brother," Y/n explained casually, settling back down in his bed as Jerome had. When Jerome didn't speak up again, Y/n continued. "I guess he's more responsible and put together. He's gonna make it in the world, and it's nice to see such motivation in such a young lad." The last sentence he said each word with dripping sarcasm. "He's a genius and he's driven and I'm... Y/n Wayne. My parents were cool, don't get me wrong, but everyone's made it perfectly clear that Bruce has always been and always will be the preferred brother." Y/n looked over to Jerome smiling, only for it to drop upon seeing Jerome's expression. "What?"

Jerome stood. He moved with that same fluidity, except now it was very intimidating. Less like a showman and more like a predator stalking its prey, getting far too close for comfort. "I know what you mean. Younger brothers are the worst." His tone was dark now, and low. He lips turned up but it seemed in a sneer rather than enjoyment.

"You have a younger brother?" Y/n asked, sitting up in surprise.

Jerome's jaw worked. He looked at Y/n, moving close as he usually did. Invading Y/n's space as always. "Are you and Bruce twins?"

"I'm two years older," Y/n answered immediately. "Why?"

"Jeremiah and I are twins." He shook his head. "Now I'm bored. Entertain me, Y/n."

Y/n was suddenly breathless as Jerome lay down, spread out on Y/n's bed. Y/n swallowed, moving to hover over him. He usually topped, but this was Jerome Valeska. Y/n had thought... this would have gone differently, at least. "Undo the jumper," Jerome commanded evenly. Y/n obeyed, dragging the zipper down. Jerome kicked off the cheap shoes he was wearing as Y/n tugged the jumper down. Jerome lay in a muscle shirt and boxers. "Have you ever pleased someone else before?" Y/n nodded. "Men?" Y/n nodded again. While with Penguin, Y/n had had the pick of the litter. Anyone he wanted. He'd had a few, though they still didn't measure up to Jerome. "Consensual?"

Y/n swallowed. "I've had consensual sex with men before, yes."

Jerome rose an eyebrow, obviously sensing the bit of information Y/n was holding back. Thankfully he didn't push. Probably because he didn't want to damper the mood again. "Show me what you know, Sweetheart." So Y/n did.

Throughout the whole ordeal, every time Y/n did something Jerome didn't like, the older boy immediately corrected him. Y/n knew that what he was doing was good enough - he'd gotten people off plenty of times before - but Jerome seemed to be pushing Y/n's buttons. Being specific and picky and demanding. Seeing where Y/n's line was. How obedient he could be. There wasn't anything Y/n had refused to do thus far. Finally Jerome pressed his head back into the bed, his eyes closed and his lips parted. His fingers curled into Y/n's short hair and he spoke quietly, trying to not alert anyone outside who would stop them while trying to keep Y/n under control and finish at the same time.

Men were much easier than woman. It didn't take much to finish Jerome once he was there. He groaned very quietly, his breath hitching and his lower body pressing into Y/n's mouth more, where it had ended up. Y/n let him ride it out then swallowed, leaning back with a grin on his face.

"How was that?"

Jerome sat up, wiping something off the corner of Y/n's lip. He pressed his finger into Y/n's mouth, his smile widening when Y/n sucked it clean. "You're good. I expected you to be less experienced."

"I doubt I'm experienced as much as I'm a fast learner and really good at following directions." Jerome hummed before stretching then moving to redress. Y/n deflated. Jerome giggled when he saw Y/n's shoulder sag. "You want something too, hm?" Y/n swallowed, nodding. "Well, since you were a good boy..." Jerome motioned Y/n closer and the younger boy immediately stood. Y/n went to kiss him but Jerome jerked away. "None of that." His fingers found purchase resting around Y/n's throat. Not squeezing, but playing at the idea. "No distractions. I have to focus." He winked and forced Y/n to turn around, knocking the breath out of the dark haired boy's lungs.

Y/n had always known there was something almost intoxicating about Jerome. Addicting. His smile. The look he got in his eye- especially when he was horny, or when he was really into a joke. The way Jerome held Y/n or pushed or pulled him around. The raw charisma he had, that allowed him to grab a room and keep it completely under control. His easy attitude. His arms and hands and hair and lips. The way Jerome had demanded and kept Y/n's attention even when the boy was repressed due to trauma. Jerome was magic. He could do anything. He was good at everything. He was great at a few things too. Murder. Acting. Being true to himself. Carry out promises.

Fucking. Jerome was really good at that, too.

The boy was setting something off in Y/n and it seemed the more time passed, the less capable Y/n was of going back to the life he had, even just with Oswald. Everyone seemed so impossibly far, but suddenly Jerome was the only person that mattered. Y/n was falling and honestly, he didn't even care.

#jerome valeska #jerome velaska #jerome valeska imagine #jerome valeska x reader #gotham #batman #joker #joker imagine #joker x reader #valeska twins #velaska twins #jerome velaska imagine #jerome velaska x reader #cameron monaghan #gotham imagine #gotham x reader

[solacefruit]

Forgive me if you have already mentioned it and I just missed/forgotten about it, but I’m wondering what your thoughts on Sword/Shield as games are. Have any thoughts or opinions on any the characters you’d like to share? Thanks!

Hello there! Everything I’ve said about the games so far is in the tag #pokemon, including a previous question about the games from you a few months ago! 

I haven’t actually had much time to play any further since then, so I’m still chilling around Hulbury and about to head to Motostoke, and because of that, I can’t really comment on the game as a whole yet. When I am eventually done with the game I’ll probably have some thoughts about it to share.

In the meantime, though, I do have some feelings about characters I’ve come across so far and I’m happy to talk about those for a bit! Most of them I’m neutral-to-positive about, but I can’t stand Hop. He’s such a pest and I find nearly everything about him both boring and grating. I much preferred the combination of Lillie and Hau from Sun and Moon, and I feel Game Freak regressed a little from that game to this one–but I don’t play Pokemon for the plot, so it’s overall a shrug from me. I mostly just scroll through his dialogue and then continue like he doesn’t exist. 

Marnie has a great look, and I can already tell I like her a ton more than Hop, but I haven’t actually talked to her much yet, so there’s not much for me to say. I do love the swerve Game Freak pulled by having Team Yell being her overzealous hype club. They’re not as fun and excellent as Team Skull, unfortunately, but the vibes are similar and I appreciate that. 

I like Sonia a lot, because I too am a graduate student writing a thesis who doesn’t care much for the competitive side of Pokemon. She’s got a fun design and I like her overall vibe. I don’t care anything about whatever apparent past rivalry she had with Leon, though, because like his brother, I just don’t care for that lad much; they’re both… dull. His outrageous look is fun, but that’s about it. 

By comparison, I have loved the two gym leaders so far. Milo is adorable and I didn’t expect to like him as much as I do, but honestly? I would like for Game Freak to bring out a cozy little CMS game on the side where I just tend gardens and herd sheep with him, because I would play it a lot. He gives me huge Carrot Ironfoundersson vibes (which is maybe part of why I’m very heart-eyes about him) but also the fact he’s just a pleasant, down-to-earth, befreckled, buff lad in a straw hat who cares about plants and wants everyone to have a nice time is wonderful. I love him. I think about him all the time. 

Nessa is also wonderful, and she’s gorgeous. Her design and aesthetic is fantastic, and I really enjoy the little tidbits of lore in the game; she feels fresh and alive to me, which is always something I like and truthfully don’t expect from Pokemon. A lot of the characters tend to be on the simpler, flatter side (which is fine for the kind of game it is!) but it’s nice when gym leaders and other significant characters have that sparkle; it makes them fun to think about. My opinion is that Nessa and Sonia are… definitely something, but who knows if that means they’re dating yet or not. Also, it is exceedingly funny to me that Nessa’s like, “ah yes my rival, Milo,” and Milo’s over in Turffield totally oblivious. An utterly charming interaction. 

Bede is obnoxious and I can’t wait to slam dunk him into the bin every time I see him. That said, I am pretty psyched to see a villain-type rival who’s all up in Psychic and Fairy Pokemon. I’m sure he’s going to grow as a person somewhat over the course of the story, so that’s nice, but it’s a pity he’s been so unlikeable so far. I don’t mind someone being villainous or shady or up to no good or whatever, but I prefer not to be stuck there in dialogue rolling my eyes and sighing and wishing for it to be over every time they talk. I know that’s a lot to ask from a Pokemon game but it would be nice. 

I think that’s pretty much everyone significant so far? If I’ve missed anyone or you’ve got other questions, please shoot me an ask! I love Pokemon and talking about it is always a joyful experience. 

#reply #pokemon #pokemon sword and shield

[drippinwalchemy]

This Thing That I’m Saying

Part 1 of the Either/Or Series

Summary: Simon and his friends have graduated from Creekside and are ready to enjoy their last summer together. Hanging out at Leah's one afternoon, Simon, Bram, Leah and Abby make plans for the rest of their time together.

Pairings: Simon Spier/Bram Greenfeld

Characters: Simon Spier, Bram Greenfeld, Abby Suso, Leah Burke, Nick Eisner

Tags: Fluff, Canon compliant, Gay male character, college, summer, angst, pining. 

Words: 2149

Canon Compliant with Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14134404

--

“I can’t believe you guys talked me into getting my face painted before we took all these” Leah groans.

“Aw, Leah that cat on your cheek is so cute though!” Abby exclaims.

“That’s Totoro,” Leah says, never missing a chance to correct Abby or an opportunity to talk about anime. “He’s like a giant rabbit forest spirit or maybe a small bear? It’s unclear.”

“Thanks for clarifying,” Abby deadpans, “Can’t believe I got a diploma never knowing who Totoro was.”

Graduation was a week ago, and we’re going through pictures from the senior party on Leah’s deck. I guess a couple of years before Alice was in high school some kids had left graduation and gone to a party where there was alcohol and they all drove home drunk. They were in a pretty bad car accident and one of them even died, at least that’s what the rumor was. Ever since, Creekwood has had a mandatory Senior Party right after graduation. All the seniors head to the school which is decked out in Creekwood color balloons, full of food, and set up with events and activities to occupy our time all night. We had gotten our faces painted, then decided it was a good idea to head to the photo booth. It’s pretty lame but we all secretly (OK very openly) had been psyched about it for weeks.

“Not a problem, we still have all summer to knock out that Miyazaki marathon you guys promised me!” Leah says with a smirk.

“Yes! And that Buffy marathon we’ve been talking about FOREVER. I still can’t believe you think I’m Cordelia-” Abby laughs, missing Leah’s purposefully obvious eye roll.

“Hey we talked about this,” Bram interjects, “we’re done making plans for this summer, graduation was a full week ago! Let’s start making some headway on this list of ours.”

“Yaaasss!” Abby howls, “we could really make some progress if Nick would hurry up already! Where is he? It’s not like our coffee order has changed over the last two years.”

Leah and Abby start guessing what was taking Nick so long: he had forgotten the drinks on top of his car again and they flew off as he clipped the corner out of the parking lot, he’d gone home to change out of his work clothes to look nice for Abby, he was at the hospital from burning himself on the cappuccino maker again.

Bram turns to me “You OK? You’ve been quiet since we got here.”

I realized I wasn’t talking as much today but honestly, I'm fine with that. I like listening to my friends talk, soaking up their banter. I woke up after the senior party reliving how much fun we had getting our faces painted, playing giant Jenga, Bram even did a cake walk but the prizes were a bunch of ridiculous pairs of boxers. All the soccer guys won a pair and wore them over their jeans, except Bram of course, he was so modest I think having anyone see him in his underwear even with a full set of clothes on would cause him to disintegrate (‘cept me of course). Since the party though I realized I had taken a back seat with my friends, watching them joke and make all our plans for the summer was something I knew was quickly going to change. After all we’re starting college in August, and aside from Leah and I we’re all scattering, even Bram and I, but I can’t think about that yet, I won’t.

“Yeah, I’m good,”  I say, grabbing his hand. “I’m just really happy it’s a Thursday afternoon and I’m somewhere other than Calculus.” God, why did I think Calculus was a good idea, college credit be damned there’s no way it was worth all that grief, although I did get to use the “Mom I need to go to Bram’s for help with Calc” excuse pretty loosely.

“Simon look at this picture of you and Bram!” Abby cooes, holding up her phone. Someone had taken a bunch of the “winners” from the night and posted them to Creeksecrets. On her phone is a picture of Bram and I laughing, me with my head buried in his neck, a hint of the Harry Potter scar I had painted on my forehead peaking out between my hair. Bram got a soccer ball on his cheek, he said it was the boring and obvious choice, I told him it was authentic. I smile and stifle this weird feeling in my chest that maybe words like ‘forever’ don’t mean what they used to.

“Oh my God look at all the hashtags on this!” Leah says grabbing the phone. “#CoupleGoals #Gay #Boyfriends #Spierfeld, you guys this is seriously giving me heartburn it’s so dumb and cute.”

“Aw, I love that picture Babe” Bram says squeezing my hand. We exchange side glances and I know he’s as over it as I am. Ever since we came out Junior year there seemed to of amassed a low key following on the Tumblr of straight girls who had essentially turned us into a meme. At first it was flattering and felt empowering almost, but it quickly became a very high key freaking nightmare. Leah says straight girls fetishize gay guys because we subconsciously remind them of what a heartthrob could look like in the absence of toxic masculinity (Leah started reading a lot of queer books when we came out to be supportive, she’s kind of like my gay guru). Bram has never been one for the spotlight and heck I had gotten so used to being an extra in musicals I never thought I would be at the center of my own story one day, let alone one about love. Dammit there’s that feeling again. Like my heart is beating in my throat and if I speak my friends will get covered in blood. I wonder if Elliott Smith ever wrote a song about this feeling, I doubt it, but I mentally add going through his song book when I get home to the other list of things to do this summer.

Leah senses Bram’s tone. “Look it’s weird for sure, and a lot of these sophomores really should be focusing on studying for the SATs, not fantasizing about you two.”

“Oh wow” Bram says under his breath. I think the idea of anyone but me fantasizing about him makes him nervous, let alone a 16 year old girl.

“But there’s a lot of people who look up to you for legit reasons, people you’ve inspired and people you helped in ways you can’t even fathom, just by being yourselves,” Leah goes on, “that comes with some responsibility so just revel in it while you can.”

Bram’s holding my hand tighter and locks his fingers with mine. I know what he’s saying as soon as he adjusts his hand. Sometimes I can’t believe how special he makes me feel. After prom, we all slept over at Nick’s house in his basement, Bram and I on a pile of blankets underneath his stairs (I may have made a scene to ensure we got the most Harry Potter spot in the basement possible). He fell asleep with his face towards me, his forearms wrapped up in mine. I must’ve stayed up for hours after he drifted off just looking at him, at his perfect knobby fingers and his gentle angled face barely visible in the light of Nick’s VCR clock. How could I be this happy at 18? Who gets to be this blissed out of their mind so early in life? I can’t help but think this means something is coming, I start thinking about the word forever again.

“Yeah guys sorry you’re so dang CUTE!” Abby chimes completely over exaggerated and thank god because this all got way too real way too quickly for how I’m feeling today.

“What gives you NEVER tell me I’m cute!” Nick runs in carrying five iced coffees and his guitar.

Leah and Abby look him up and down. “Definitely went home and changed,” Leah says staring at Nick’s henley.

“Oh you’re not foolin’ anyone with this caught up at work business babe, I smell your body spray from here, what did I tell you about that stuff?” Abby says “You won’t make any friends in Athens wearing that junk”.

“Hey I’m trying to save as much as I can for college and deodorant is expensive!” Nick replies. “Plus I’ve got like 6 flavors left from middle school, this one’s called Beast Mode ”.

“That’s horrifying.” Leah says grabbing her drink.

“Yeah please go shower this is not working for me” Abby says grabbing her coffee and pushing Nick’s face away playfully.

Bram and I both start cracking up as Nick slinks off to shower.

“OK you guys so let’s get to work on this summer then!” Abby says. “What should we do first?”

“Well I was thinking,” Bram says. “We had talked about getting away to the lake, I could ask my Dad maybe about going to his lakehouse next weekend?”

“Bram that’s brilliant!” Leah exclaims. “We should get out of town, I’m so sick of all these grad parties anyways. We get it Taylor Metternich, you’re going to Juilliard, I do not need to eat that information off a fucking cookie.”

“What do you think Si, want to go away next weekend?” Bram asks me. All I can think of is going away with him forever, whatever that means to me now.

“Let’s do it” I say with a smirk.

“What is who doing?” Nick yells from upstairs.

“We’re getting outta Dodge Eisner!” Abby yells back to him. “Make sure you get work off next weekend.”

Nick comes barreling back downstairs. “Yes! I love the lake, dibs top bunk!” Nick says without any hint of irony and Abby rolls her eyes and smiles into her hoodie.

Nick’s grabs his guitar. “Any requests?” He says.

“Play something to cheer Spier up” Leah says. “Where you at today Si?”

I’m a lot of places. I’m here, with my best friends, with my boyfriend. Shady Creek, my home my entire life, soon to be where I grew up. I’m at the end of Summer, I’m at Thanksgiving break when we’ll all be back and I’m even further out than that. I’m thinking about where I was, before I came out, when I met Blue, when I realized he was Bram. I’m everywhere between then and now. Once in physics our teacher said Einstein thought time was a circle and we could theoretically experience all of existence at once in the right dimension. I wonder if Einstein realized that before moving away to college.

“I’m just thinking about how much we still have left to do this summer!” I sigh. “How about some Tegan & Sara?”

“Aw Simon they’re so sad though!” Abby groans.

“That’s the whole point!” I exclaim and Bram starts to laugh cause I swear I’ve had this conversation with him so many times he could write a thesis on it.

“As you wish” says Nick, and he launches into an acoustic Leah’s deck version of Call it Off . Leah grabs Abby’s arm and gives her a side hug, Abby whips out her phone and starts an Instagram story filming Nick, he really is a good singer.

Maybe I would have been something you'd be good at

Maybe you would have been something I'd be good at.

Bram plops his feet up on my lap and I squeeze his calves, his cute firm soccer calves already starting to bronze from the week we’ve been out of school. I listen to Nick, to Tegan & Sara and look around and let myself feel what I’m feeling. I look at Abby and Leah, swooning and laughing and exuding the freedom that comes with this golden space between high school and college. I look at Bram, and oh my god it’s like looking at an eclipse, every muscle in my body transfixed on him while my nerves simultaneously burst into flames from how beautiful he is. I let myself be in this moment in my life, for today and for all the days that still remain in this perfect group of humans I get to call my home.

But now we'll never know

I won't be sad, but in case I go there

Everyday, to make myself feel bad

There's a chance that I'll start to wonder if this was the thing to do.

Leah and Abby chime in on the now we’ll never , and I close my eyes and feel the sun speckle my face through the leaves of Leah’s oak tree. I wonder if this happiness, our happiness, is worth the risk of the sadness it keeps at bay. It has to be, I tell myself as I hum the harmony and return to right now.

#svthsa #Simonverse #Simon Spier #Bram Greenfeld #Spierfeld #Leah Burke #Abby Suso #Nick Eisner #Love Simon #Fan Fiction #Canon #Canon Gay Relationship #Gay Male Character #Gay #AO3 #AO3Fic #Fluff #College #Angst #Romance

[jkl-fff]

Ha! Well, thank you for acknowledging my basic human agency—my freedom—to answer or not answer as I see fit. Heh … Seriously, though, it’s no problem; please continue to send in any and all the questions you like. The attention and interest are, frankly, flattering. And the distraction is more than welcome—it’s fun!—so no worries.

First Time as a Teacher, How Did I Feel? This one is sorta tough, because I’ve kinda always been a teacher in one capacity or another ever since I was … gosh, 14? 15? That was when I started working as a camp counselor during the summer for the Boy Scouts (did so until I was 19). While I was there … Ho boy, I taught a ton of different merit badges—basket weaving, astronomy, emergency preparedness, first aid, wilderness survival, orienteering, small boat sailing, rock-climbing …

After that, I was on a religious mission for two years (because I was raised mormon and that’s just what mormons do) in France. Pretty much spent *all* of that time teaching people about the religion, or teaching other missionaries how to be more effective at teaching people about the religion (by Cthulhu’s carpals, I was so young and naif and desperately closeted back then … feels like it was four life-times ago …), and teaching a weekly free English class as a service to people. Though, naturally, the end goal of that was finding more people to teach about the religion, so … When that ended, I was asked to keep teaching in my home congregation, and did so until I was about … 23, and just sorta collapsed inside. Couldn’t keep pretending I wasn’t attracted to other men, couldn’t keep pretending the god I had believed in was helping me be happy, couldn’t keep pretending the whole thing wasn’t thrice-damned absurd … So I stopped.

Spent another year living in France after that, this time in the employ of their Ministry of Education as an English teaching assistant in a French high school. Then two years teaching French for one university while I got a Masters’ Degree (standard trade off: graduate students teach lower-level courses, usually getting their tuition waived, health benefits, and a modest stipend), an intense month teaching an accelerated French course for the National Guard, and finally (after a brief hiatus working for FedEx) here I am in my second year of teaching French for a different university.

To say nothing of all the Taekwon-Do teaching I’ve been regularly entrusted with since I was, like, 16 …

Like I said, it’s tough to answer this one. So constant, so regular, and for so long … I just don’t really remember how the first times at each respective task felt anymore. But I do know that it *now* feels exhilarating and energizing every time my class starts one of its French lessons. Those are kinda the times that I feel most alive during the week …

First Time Writing a ParaPines Fic, What Made Me Write It? “Adorable Like a Werekitten” (shameless plug time, read it and all my fics here: https://jkl-fff.deviantart.com/) was both my first ParaPines fic and also my first foray into fanfic altogether. According to the posting timestamp … jeez, that was on October 2nd, 2012—a little over 5 years ago … And as to what made me write it, well … ParaPines came into my life during what was a rather tumultuous time, emotionally speaking.

Back then, it was like I was adrift at sea (maybe I still am … but at least the sea is more-or-less calm now, whereas back then it felt like a maelstrom within a hurricane, and I would foundering). Happiness and companionship and love—even just as meaningful friendship outside of my family—were all things I had pretty much abandoned forever all hope of finding (gods above, I sound like an emo album from 2006!) when two things happened: I discovered some … er, ahem, um … erotic fanart of Dipper Pines (which led to discovering more fanart in general, which led to discovering Gravity Falls and ParaPines and ParaNorman, all of which I found to be some of the most fantastic and adorable things to ever exist), and I fell in love with a guy in real life.

Actually, the falling in love part might have been what made everything so tumultuous emotionally … Certainly, I was not happy before him, but I was content in my unhappiness. It was a stable, dependably gray life I led before him. And then, suddenly, in my life … him. Just as suddenly, I started questioning somethings … then everythings … then ALL OF THE THINGS! Why should I linger in misery? Why cling to celibacy? What purpose was there in remaining faithful to vows I had made for a god I no longer believed in? What exactly was wrong with being gay? Why was I so convinced being gay was wrong? Why did I loathe myself so? If I had committed no fault, why shouldn’t I deserve to be as happy as anyone who was straight? Why not *all* the gay people? Why not everyone everywhere? Why not me right here and right now? Why not me … and him, with him, for him and to him and through him and by him forever and ever? Of course, it was a slow process, what with being internal and psychological. Seldom so explicit and obvious as my gloss above suggests. No, it took months and years for most of these questions to work through themselves, and honestly some of that working is still taking place even now. I hope it never stops.

But I digress. All of this gradual falling in love with him and becoming friends with him and spending time with him and pining over him and despairing because of him—all of this, and more, which had me adrift in that maelstrom in that hurricane—was taking place during and after my discoveries, as I said above, of Gravity Falls and ParaNorman and the joyous amalgam of both that is ParaPines. I was in dire straits and desperate need of something—of anything at all—that could anchor me a little, and this fit the bill. Y’see, both shows are great (great writing, great characterization, great plot development, great messages), so I could enjoy them each unironically without a sense of embarrassment. And … and and and … the ParaPines fanart was all so … so pure, so innocent, so bright and free and easy. The boys always looked so cute and happy together, y’know? As if being gay with another boy was as simple as that. No big identity struggle, no big community turmoil, no angst, no pain, no fear. Just … two gay boys being cute and happy together, with everything being as simple as that for them … Basically, everything I was craving, everything I was fantasizing about, everything I wanted for myself and him … Everything I wanted “being gay” to mean …

So I latched onto this fandom like a life preserver (it may actually have been something that preserved my life), and soon found that I just needed to contribute to it. I *needed* to write, y’know? Needed to put all of the thoughts and feeling swirling and sloshing and storming around in my head down onto paper. So I started writing for the fandom, using that writing as a means to work through some of my insecurities and anxieties about being gay, about being in love with someone who I always dreaded would leave my feelings unrequited … Heh. Poor little Norman. Though they’re all foils for parts of me, he got the brunt of all my angst, falling head-over-heels for DipDopDoblivious.

All of which to explain why I’m so invested in these two, even today, and probably will be for the rest of my life. Simultaneously, they’re now imbued with parts of my very psyche and identity, and have basically kept me from ripping myself to pieces.

Oh, and more specifically for ALaW, I saw some freakin’ adorable art by @skeletonizer featuring werecat Dipper, and sorta had to write something in which Dipper became a werecat. Like, it was too cute to be resisted. Heh. I remember being shocked at myself as I wrote it (“Really? You’re writing a story about a crossover of two characters from completely different franchises? You sunk this low?”), and trying to justify it to myself as a literary exercise (“I’m seeing if I can write in a completely different tone and style than I normally do! That’s all that’s going on here, I swear!”) so I wouldn’t feel like such a nerd/dork/geek. Ha! Although it turned out to be a slippery slope, that ParaPines fanfic, since now I’m sliding down it all “WHEEEEEEEEEE!” with no hope of every getting back up and out of it. And embrace the persona of being a nerd/dork/gook wholeheartedly (life is too short not to let yourself love what you love because of what anyone else—including yourself—might think). 

Best “mistake” I ever made, deciding to write that fanfic!

(WARNING: A LITTLE NSFW AFTER THIS)

First Kiss and First Sex *sigh* These can both be conjoined, as they happened at the same event. The memories aren’t exactly pleasant for me (or rather, memories connected with him aren’t exactly pleasant for me now … they’ve all become rather melancholy), so I’m not going to dwell on or develop the answers overmuch. It was at a New Year’s Party, one that was jampacked with people and flooded with alcohol that people had brought with them to contribute to the festivities.

Now, I loved (love?) him, but I’ve never been under any illusions: he’s self-destructive, he’s damaged inside (more so than average people), and he’s an alcoholic as a result. That night, he imbibed freely and flitted about like a boisterous social butterfly. And I, true to my demeanor, drank only water or orange juice mixed with fresca. For the most part, I stuck to corners or quieter spaces or would linger out on the deck and watch the city in the distance (perhaps I would’ve spent the whole night out there, save that it was December-becoming-January and bitterly cold). Y’see, I’ve never much cared for parties; loud music, jumbled conversations in a raucous din, tight spaces filled with people, strangers everywhere I went … I’ve never cared for any of these. They overwhelm me and tire out my brain. But I would periodically go in search of him and check that everything was still okay, then force myself to try and socialize a little before seeking out a quieter spot again. As midnight approached, he came in search of me. He said he wanted me to be his New Year’s first kiss, and … and I had been pining for him for months at that point, dreaming of it—of my first kiss—being him, being the first person I had ever been *in love* with, saving my first kiss for him … Such a silly, romantic fool I was … so of course I acquiesced at once. Perhaps I shouldn’t have, but … Gods above, he was clumsy and uncoordinated from being drunk and there was that sickly-sweet aftertaste of booze on his lips. Yet it was the best kiss of my life—a kiss that sorta ruined kissing for me, because no other kiss has ever made me feel like that one did …

Next thing I knew, he had led me down into the basement, which was a roiling cauldron of fog (from a machine) and colored dance lights and silhouettes of other guys moving slowly to the music. The room wasn’t big and there were plenty of other guys in it, yet it felt strangely private. The fog made it impossible to recognize anyone unless you were standing right next to him, plus there seemed to be an unspoken understanding on the part of all present (all except me, who felt lost and at a loss in an alien world, since I wasn’t completely out yet and all of this was new and confusing to me) that this space was one free from the gaze and the judgment of others. Every man was anonymous down there, in a way, even to those he knew. Even to himself, perhaps. Maybe that was why he had brought me down there. Like a spatial manifestation of drunkenness, that room was a haze of socially accepted deniability to those went in. Anything that happened down there was considered to stay down there and dissolve from memory and the real world when the fog did. Inhibitions didn’t have to exist, and neither did consequences or responsibilities. [Which is all utter bullshit, by the way. You are you; you are what you do and what you say, and neither alcohol nor anonymity absolve you of responsibility for what you do and what you say, for who you are. People like to tell themselves the fairytale that these things can change you, or that it’s not really you when under their influence … but, like all fairytales, that’s bullshit people tell themselves to feel better so they can try and skip out on owning up to their own mistakes. Gods, I *hate* alcohol sometimes.] Anyway, he made out with me for a while against one of the walls. I should’ve said “no”, I should’ve told him that he was drunk and this wasn’t what he really wanted, but … When I made some feeble attempts at protest, he just said, “Shhh …” and kept going. And I was too weak to insist after that, too desperate for something more than just hanging out with him to refuse … Some other guys joined us for a bit, and he initiated a circle jerk with them. But I was only interested in him, and I guess the others picked up on that because they soon left me and him as alone as one could be in that room. He stroked me for a while, then sucked me for a while, but wouldn’t let me return the favor for long because he was “too drunk to get it up” …

The next day and every day after that, we pretended that nothing had happened—never spoke of it—though when I hinted at it … it was clear that he did remember. Crystal clear. But he wanted it to be something that dissolved with the haze of the room and the alcohol, something that wasn’t and wouldn’t then or ever be remembered, something that would never exist in the real world.

Sadly, that wouldn’t be the last time I got my heart broken by him. People think I’m smart, but I sure do make some dumb mistakes sometimes … and I make them over and over again …

Thanks again for the asks! Hopefully that downer ending on that last one won’t deter anyone from sending in more asks, though. Don’t be shy, people! Send in anything and everything you want to know! I’d be more than happy to answer them (and especially now that I just finished making myself depressed), and find them quite the fun distraction!

#ask #ask me anything #ask me about my ocs #ask me questions #ask me stuff #question #my life #fuck my life #emotions #depression #unrequited love #love sucks #love story #Love Is #alcoholic #alcoholism #alcohol #angst #fanfiction #writing #parapines #teacher #submission

[cracklets]

Of Flesh and Grace and Something In Between

Title: Of Flesh and Grace and Something In Between Chapter: One Author: Mistina of the Cranky Ol’ Fangirls Beta: MY MOM!!! (Seriously, Mistina’s mother proof read this chapter.) Series: Person of Interest and Supernatural Pairing(s):  Shaw/Root (Team Shoot), Dean/Castiel (Destiel) Rating: 14a Spoilers:  “Person of Interest” through to 4x11 and "Supernatural” through to 8x23 Length:  2,181 words Summary: Shaw can't believe this is her new life. Afterlife? Unlife? Second life? Ugh. Whatever. She has more important things to figure out. Like how the Hell she became the nexus between a bloody civil war up in Heaven and the battle between two God-like A.I. machines down here on Earth?! Author's Note: After watching "Person of Interest” 4x11, I was in denial and I immediately put together a crossover fix it to pacify myself. Later the show revealed that I had nothing to be worried about. Well, not when it comes to Shaw. ^^;; This is that fix it. I hope you enjoy my canon denial. <3

Bang! The world went black. She felt heavy. Sinking down, down, down. The abyss reached for her. Pulling her down, down, down.

Claws lashed out from the darkness below, eager to have her in their razor blade clutches. Each graze they managed to land sent a jolt of pain, climaxing sharp and lightning quick, throughout her entire being. Her descent quickly became a violent free fall. The claws grasping for her rapidly grew in number and tore into her with increasing accuracy. Gash after bruise after break after scrape… The blows became so frequent that they soon blurred into a single perpetual torment. When the claws finally managed to latch onto her, they jerked her down hard into their bloody embrace. Temperature then made itself known. Within the confinement of the abyss was a heat that ignited her pain into a searing agony. There in the dark, shackled and convulsing, she knew the time had come to atone for the oceans of blood shed by her hands. Suddenly, a burst of light banished the claws and the heat and the pain. Sameen Shaw’s eyes snapped open. There was no desperate intake of breath. Her muscles didn’t jerk, or even so much as flinch, into action. There was no atrophy to indicate that she had been shot and then lying prone in a hospital bed or on a cold slab wearing a toe tag. She merely opened her eyes and found herself to be whole, taking a deep deliberate breath and gently flexing her hands in an attempt to verify her current state. Even disoriented, Shaw realized that those were an awful lot of red flags. She quickly took in her surroundings: attired in a flattering black pant suit, hair pulled back in its usual manner, seated in an office of some sort... She then surveyed the room, trying to gather enough intel to determine her current circumstances: stainless steel, neutral colours and glass… She’d had thought she was in a clinic or a lab if it weren’t for her clothes, the cubicles, the carpeted floors and the nearby water cooler. The office decor told her that her host was most likely cold, detached and efficient. She could relate to such traits which meant she knew all too well that having such a host was not a good thing. Speaking of hosts, she was facing a large desk occupied by a stranger. "Hello Sameen," said the man behind the desk, his voice deep and gravelly. She said nothing, shooting the man a suspicious look. Her eyes visually inspected the stranger while her hands took stock of available resources. Searching her pockets, her hands came out empty while her eyes yielded some information, but nothing helpful. The man seemed completely out of place here. The office was sleek but the man seemed… ragged. He had unkempt dark hair and a five o’clock shadow along his jaw with a wrinkled trench coat over a rumpled business suit. The look was topped off with a blue tie hanging crooked around his neck. His look said ‘unpolished average joe ’ but her instincts screamed that the look was just a ruse. “I apologize in advance for my terrible bedside manner. I’m not known for my social skills," said the man, stiff but cordial. “What are you known for?” she asked automatically. To seek and acquire information while giving up little to none in return was a reflex deeply conditioned into her psyche. A reflex which seemed to have paid off in this instance, for she spied a brief flash of sadness in the man’s squinted eyes before they were quickly schooled back into neutrality. “Depends on who you ask,” he replied mysteriously, “but you will know me as the one who raised you from perdition.” “So I did die,” she stated impassively. “Yes, you did.” The man deadpanned, just as impassively. Wearing a lazy smirk, Shaw leaned back in her chair, swaying slightly as it had wheels, and theatrically gave the room a once over. “Not exactly what I expected.” “If you were expecting fire and brimstone, that is where you were headed.” Shaw chuckled wryly at that. “So why am I here, wherever ‘here’ is?” She gestured lazily to indicate the office they were in. “This is Heaven and you’re here because I have a proposition for you.” “Heaven, huh?” she mumbled, eyeing the room dubiously. “What you see is your soul’s interpretation of this foreign and more complex plane of existence,” Castiel explained as though this was matter of fact, which it most certainly wasn’t for Shaw. “Through blinders I’ve put in place so that your soul can exist here without harm.” Shaw raised a brow at the afterthought, but let is pass for the moment. “And you are?” “My name is Castiel. I’m an angel of the Lord.” Her eyes widened slightly, the only hint that her calm demeanor was disturbed. “Reeaaallly?” she drawled. “Yes.” “So what does an angel of the Lord want with a recently deceased sociopathic assassin?” Castiel suddenly broke eye contact, a small frown on his lips, which troubled Shaw as he had not shown any obvious signs of emotion up until this point. “I’m offering you a place amongst our ranks.” “Excuse me?” she sputtered incredulously. Whatever answer she was anticipating, it was definitely not that. “We’ve been fighting a war for the last few years,” he explained calmly, though there was an undertone of sadness. To Shaw it seemed as though he had anticipated her disbelief which indicated he wasn’t completely socially incompetent, or—at least—not as much as he thought. “The death toll is devastating. Our Father had created us as immortals and so we were never given the ability to procreate. Hence every fallen brother and sister is a permanent deduction to our population.” “So, what?” asked Shaw, unable to slot herself into this scenario. "You’re going to hang a halo from a wire tied around my head and glue some wings to my back?” The angel chuckled. “That’s something a friend of mine would say…” A small, fond smile tugged at his lips as he briefly reminisced. “...I wish to imbue your soul with a fraction of my grace. With practice and training, it could blend with your soul and make you something… in between.” “‘Something in between’? The lack of a proper name really inspires confidence,” huffed Shaw sarcastically. “I must admit, this has never been done before…” “Oh, now  I’m relieved.” the angel narrowed his eyes angrily at Shaw’s sarcasm but they didn’t deter her. “So I have to choose between being a lab rat in Heaven or burning in Hell?” “No. No. I would never—” said Castiel adamantly before taking a deep calming breath. “I don’t want to force your hand. I have selected you for many reasons but the most important one is that I firmly believe you do not truly deserve to go to Hell. No matter what you decide, you have a place here.” Shaw raised a suspicious brow. "But I only have your word to go on." "True, but I can't think of any way to prove my sincerity without being accused of using"—he did, honest to God, air quotes—"'angel mojo'. Can you?" Shaw gently bit her lip to stifle a chuckle creeping up her throat so she could focus on the matter at hand. “No. Not with angels having the mojo to manipulate my will while I'm none the wiser.” “We are capable of such methods, but I have no desire to use them. I’m an advocate for humanity’s free will.” As he finished this statement his jaw clenched imperceptibly and his eyes squinted. Whether in anger or sadness, she couldn’t tell, but either way there was a story there. “Yeah… Not sure how I feel about that.” She trusted humanity about as much as she trusted the ‘angel’ before her. She leaned back in her chair, running her tongue across her teeth behind sealed lips. “Alright,” she said eventually, “why the Hell not?” She smirked wickedly, amused by her own choice of words. “I don’t understand,” said Castiel, head tilting slightly in confusion. “The way I see it, if I’m still alive and this is some kind of elaborate ploy then everything you’ve suggested is impossible. So anything you do plan to do with me I can more than handle. In short, if I’m alive then there’s no issue here.” she shrugged nonchalantly as she finished her first point, her face turning deadly serious when she moved on to her second. “If I am, in fact, dead, then I am at your mercy. At the mercy of you and whoever and whatever else exists after death. Life after death is completely unknown to me, like it is to all humans. I’m lost in the dark with no tools or information. So if I’m to survive, you are currently my best source of information, my best chance.” “Your logic is impressive,” said Castiel thoughtfully, eyes squinted as if he were studying the soul before him and calculating his next move, “but I must urge you to give my offer more consideration. Whether or not you believe that the offer is genuine, what I’m offering will be quite… permanent. And for the deceased, permanent  is potentially a very, very long time.” “Your concern is touching…” teased Shaw. “I don’t understand. You’re a sociopa—” “I am, but I was being sarcastic.” Shaw rolled her eyes, amused. “Look, don’t you worry about my decisions. I don’t have enough intel to work with, so consenting is my best option. However… On the off chance that all this is legit and you stick to your word, I will only consent if you meet one condition.” “A reasonable request, if it’s something I can provide.” He leaned forward slightly, supporting himself with his forearms and interlacing his hands on the desk. “What is your condition?” Shaw clenched her jaw, thrown off by her own impulsive request. Finding out that she had died was straightforward. Learning that this guy in a trench coat was an angel was surprising but easy enough to accept. Being told that this office was Heaven, well, that wasn’t much of a stretch after this 'desk jockey' angel. But this… lingering attachment. That unsettled her. “I want to be able to help my friends when they need it.” Unspoken, though surprisingly understood by the socially awkward angel, was ‘I want to see them again’. “If I were to deny you, I would be a hypocrite.” Finding the new information intriguing, Shaw quirked a brow which had Castiel smiling in a cryptic manner. "I’m sure you’ll find out all about that soon enough." “I’m sure I will,” said Shaw with an amused smirk. “I accept your condition, Sameen Shaw.” Castiel stood suddenly, his face deadly serious. “Do you consent to my proposal?” Shaw raised her right hand and held her left one over the heart, parodying a sworn testimony. “I do.” The angel frowned slightly at her levity, but accepted her response as sincere. He reached down to open a desk drawer and retrieved a simple glass bottle that contained something that was anything but simple: a small spec of golden light surrounded by a faint but alluring aura that seamlessly flowed from colour to colour. “Wow.” breathed Shaw, thinking that, if her current situation wasn’t real, she owed someone a huge ‘thank you’ for whatever seriously awesome drugs she was on. “I have broken off a piece of my grace and placed it in this container,” explained Castiel, though unnecessarily. “When I say that this is a part of me, I mean it in the most literal sense. My thoughts, my feelings, my memories... All of me is in this shard as much as it is a part of the rest of my grace.” “Wow, sounds pretty intimate.” whistled Shaw, looking up through her eyelashes playfully. “Can I add another condition? Because it’s starting to sound like you need to buy me a drink first.” “Are you done?” asked Castiel bluntly. “Sure, sure.” Shaw motioned for the angel to continue, which he did with a sigh. “Theoretically, when I fuse this shard with your soul, you'll have access to all that I have learned and experienced. I will do my best to limit its influence so my grace doesn't consume you.” at Shaw’s slight frown, he shrugged helplessly. “As I said, this process is unprecedented and is, as you might have guessed, dangerous and very likely will be extremely painful.” Her frown turned into one of grim resolve. “I can take it.” With one last sad look, Castiel opened the container and the shard gravitated up and out to circle idly around his hand. As it crossed his palm he ensnared it in his fist and, in a blink, the angel was right next to Shaw with his arm elbow deep into her chest. Grace met Soul. Burning, searing, tearing, breaking. Mind suddenly bereft of thought. Bleeding, crying, waning, fading The world went white. END of CHAPTER ONE

#team shoot #destiel #spn #poi #person of interest #supernatural #fic #crossover #au

[blythestheticsmoved]

❛ SCREAM 2 SENTENCE STARTERS

tw for violence, murder, weapons, all that good stuff

“I hate scary movies.” “It’s good to be scared. It’s primal.” “Listen, I read my Entertainment Weekly, okay? I know my shit.” “I got my money, I asked for your money.” “You know, I don’t even know you and I dislike you already.” “I don’t like being scared. I don’t like that.” “Scary movies are great foreplay.” “Hey, move your ass! You’re late.” “You know me and organized religions.” “Lower the walls for the next few days, okay?” “This self-induced isolation you got going is not healthy.” “You can’t blame real-life violence on entertainment.” “It’s a classic case of life, imitating art, imitating life.” “I lived through this. Life is life. Doesn’t imitate anything.” “Are you suggesting that someone is trying to make a real-life sequel?” “Many sequels have surpassed their originals.” “Well, there’s no accounting for taste.” “I’d let the geek get the girl.” “It’s starting again.” “Multiplexes are just a dangerous place to be these days.” “You’re in extreme denial.” “This has nothing to do with us.” “Can’t we just go back to our psuedo-quasi-happy existence?” “I skipped. I couldn’t take all the ‘That’s Her!’ looks.” “You’re playing with the big boys now, got it?” “Your flattering remarks are both desperate and obvious.” “Be kind. She saved our lives.” “She had calf implants!” “I’m gonna get closer.” “This must be flat-out hell for you.” “How are you holding up?” “It’s really weird, isn’t it? To think this fuss is all because of you!” “What are you doing here?” “I was worried about you.” “Things were okay, until now.” “I’m seeing someone. Nice guy, pre-med, no apparent psychotic tendencies.” “I just want you to be careful.” “What am I supposed to do? Cut everybody off? Crawl under a rock?” “I want to make sure you’re safe, if that’s alright with you.” “Nothing like a funeral to bring the family together.” “What the hell are you doing?” “I forgive and forget. Just like you, I’d like to get back on with my own life.” “You bitch!” “Did you get that on film?” “You need to check your conscience at the door, sweetie. I’m not here to be loved.” “I don’t condone violence, but maybe you deserved it.” “Don’t you think your overreacting, just a little bit?” “How do you know that my dim-witted inexperience isn’t merely a subtle form of manipulation used to lower peoples’ expectations, thereby enhancing my ability to effectively maneuver within any given situation?” “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.” “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some oozing to do.” “I think you’re taking your psych major a little too seriously.” “ ‘I’m fine,’ yeah—fucked up, insecure, neurotic and emotional.” “HI! No, I really mean that—hi!” “That shit only calls you when he’s drunk. Don’t go over there.” “You sound loaded. What’s up?” “Drink with your brain, that’s our motto.” “Do you want to die tonight?” “I’m outta here!” “Did anyone call for me?” “It’s your ill-conceived boyfriend.” “Everyone thinks that sororities are just about blow-jobs, but it’s not true!” “It’s happening again, isn’t it?” “Better hurry. Might get scooped.” “Get your jacket. Let’s get you home.” “Why don’t you show your face, you fucking coward?” “You know, I knew this was coming. I knew this wasn’t over.” “You are not alone, okay? We are all here for you.” “He needs to realize the nineties is no time to play hero.” “Why would anyone go back in that house anyway?” “You’re lucky he didn’t kill you.” “I think we have a copycat on our hands.” “Do these guys have to follow you around everywhere?” “How am I ever going to get you alone?” “To be honest, I think it would probably be in your best interest to stay as far away from me as possible.” “I hope that was an off-the-cuff remark that holds no subtext whatsoever.” “I’ll take my chances.” “I don’t want to see you get hurt.” “Come on, smile. Just once. Please?” “I’ll smile when I catch the killer.” “I’m not here to do your job.” “He is a gemini, single, but I think he’s gay.” “Penny for your thoughts?” “I think I love you!” “Why won’t you let me touch you?” “I think you just need to deal with that and move on.” “How do we find the killer? That’s what I want to know.” “Let’s not move on. Maybe you are a suspect.” “Well, if I’m a suspect, you’re a suspect.” “That’s what reporters do! They stage the news!” “If she’s not a killer, she’s a target.” “I’m gonna do what any rational human being would do, and get the fuck out of here.” “I wanna report the news, I don’t wanna be the news!” “I need you. I cannot do this without you.” “Let’s go get killed!” “I’m a fighter.” “None of us can avoid our fate, but as an artist, you can honestly face it, and fight it.” “How long have you been here?” “I need to be alone right now, okay?” “Do I get a say in this?” “The killer’s trying to finish what was started.” “I’ll be back when you start talking about something a little more Saved By the Bell-ish.” “What do you wanna do, bonehead?” “Want to wait here and see who drops next?” “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” “Have you ever felt a knife cut through human flesh and scrape the bone beneath?” “No matter how hard you try, you’ll never be the hero and you’ll never, ever get the girl.” “Where’s your innovation? Why copycat two high school loser-ass dickheads?” “This isn’t a good time.” “Come on, you sent me to prison. You can give me two minutes.” “There’s been enough exposure. Why would you want anymore?” “Yeah, I bet you’re real sorry.” “There was no attack. We were talking, very heatedly.” “I don’t know about homicide but you’ve definitely got me for raising my voice in a public library.” “It should’ve been me.” “Stop treating me like glass. I’m not going to break.” “Until you find me standing over a body with a knife in my hand, I think you’d better treat me with the rights and privileges afforded to every innocent citizen in this country.” “Enjoying the show?” “I just wanna find this fucker!” “Now we’re getting somewhere.” “I never meant to hurt you.” “Stay here!” “There’s no one there.” “When this is all over, I’ll still be here.” “I wanna know who it is.” “I’m going back.” “Stupid people go back. Smart people run.” “We’re smart people, so we should just get the fuck out of here.” “I’m sick of running!” “If we know who it is, it’ll be over.” “Get away from me!” “This isn’t what it looks like!” “Shit, who tied these? We gotta get out of here!” “The killer, he’s here!” “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” “You really wanna trust your boyfriend?” “Don’t you know history repeats itself?” “Surprise, [name].” “Thanks a lot, partner.” “He’s crazy! You know me better than that!” “What do you think? Experiencing some déjà vu?” “I AM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!” “YOU ARE DEAD!” “I never would’ve hurt you.” “You should really deal with your trust issues.” “Oh! So vulgar!” “Did he let you talk to him this way?” “He was a sick fuck, just like you.” “No. He was a sick fuck who tried to get away with it. I’m a sick fuck who wants to get caught.” “I’ve got my whole defense planned out.” “I’m gonna blame the movies.” “I’m an innocent victim.” “You’re a psychotic.” “That’ll be our little secret.” “See? It’s all about execution.” “You’re forgetting one thing: I fucking killed him.” “You piece of shit!” “You got a Linda Hamilton thing going on. It’s nice. I like it.” “Nice twist, huh? Didn’t see it coming, did ya?” “It’s called a makeover; you should try it.” “I’m very sane.” “You’re never gonna get away with this.” “Not wise to patronize me with a gun.” “Don’t you FUCKING MOVE.” “I have had a very, VERY bad day, and I would like to know exactly what the FUCK is going on here.” “I can still help you.” “Let me kill her!” “Personally, I think it’s rather poetic.” “No, don’t you listen to her!” “Quite a predicament you’re in.” “Give me the gun.” “I want you to know I would never, ever do anything to hurt you.” “We should probably talk about what exactly happened here, you know? Get our stories straight.” “I’ve been shot!” “Jesus, you scared the crap out of me!” “You’ve got more lives than a cat.” “They always come back.” “How’s it feel to be a hero?” “I’m back.” “I’m coming with you!” “I can’t believe you’re alive!” “It’ll make a helluva movie.”

#rp prompt #sentence prompt