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sterredem · 1 month

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Pretty Boy

Oscar piastri x Famous!Reader

Face claim: random girls on Pinterest

Summery: When Oscar meets a pretty girl he is interested in her and decides to shoot his shot.

Word count: 938

A/N: Sooo this is my first fix. I am very nervous but I hope you like it! I know I made the polls and the results were completely different from this but I need to do a lot of research for that one so I thought that this could be fun.

Also this could be red with everything in mind. It is a female reader but you can read it with whatever job you want!

I did make it with a European singer in mind but chose what you want!

Please give feedback or comment!

Extra info for fic: the note, Insta DM’s

Y/n always felt like she was being watched. Whenever it was by her friends, paparazzi, fans or just people walking by it didn’t matter. She felt it.

But this time it was different, she didn’t know who was swatching her, normally she could figure it out really quick who was watching but now… she just couldn’t figure it out. And it also felt different then normally, this time it didn’t feel like they wanted something from her. Everyone always wanted something from her; a picture, money, publicity anything really. But no this time it felt different. The ‘stare’ felt more caring (for all she could know because stares don’t really have feelings) it felt more intense but in a good way, like they were zoned out or something. But she didn’t know who was watching her or why.

So because she couldn’t figure it out she turend back to het coffee and her work. She took a moment to look around in the cafe to look at if she can see who was staring at her. But she couldn’t figure it out.

Wat she did saw was a very handsome man talking with who she presumed to be his friends. He had brown fluffy hair and brown eyes. She had to admit he looked really pretty.

But now that she was thinking he did look away when she looked at him. And then she realized, he was the person that was ‘staring’ at her. Now she was actually thinking, that was pretty creepy.

But ignoring all that she decided that her work is more important than the pretty boy staring at her. So she turned back to het coffee and work… again.

Meanwhile Oscar or better known as ‘the pretty boy’ was star struck. Not because he knew she was famous no, but because of her beauty. She was the most beautiful girl in the world in his eyes so he couldn’t help but stare at her.

But when she turned around he knew he was caught and quickly turened around back to Lando.

Because if he was being honest it was pretty creeping with him staring at her. He just hoped she wouldn’t find it to creepy.

“Hey you okay mate?” Lando asked after Oscar spaced out for a long time.

“Huh what?” He asked still in a daze from the beautiful girl.

“Are you okay? You were liked zoned out or something.” Lando said a bit confused with how his friend was acting.

“Oh yeah I am fine. Just got distracted.” Oscar said now focusing back on the conversation.

“Okay… you sure? What got you so distracted?” Lando asked with a teasing smile.

“Oh nothing important.” Oscar said blushing a little.

“Okay I will drop it. But if you want to talk about it I’m always here.” Lando said now becoming a little more serious again. “Zak will be here in a minute so if I where you I would figure the distraction out before it becomes a problem.”

“Yeah okay, okay I will. Just wait one second okay?” Oscar said already coming up with a plan to speak with the gorgeous girl.

“Yeah, yeah okay I’ll cover for you if it takes too long” Lando said preparing to cover for his teammate.

Oscar walked away to the bar and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and write something on it.

He then waited for her to go to the bathroom (no he is not a stalker) and then walked to her table and put the piece of paper down by her work stuff and walked back to his table just in time for her to get back and for Zak and a few other members of McLaren to come into the cafe.

When y/n came back to het table from the bathroom she saw the pretty boy walking away and she saw a piece of paper on her table.

She unfolded the paper and smiled at what stood there, she grabbed her phone and goes to her instagram.

She took a quick Look at the note again.

Hey, sorry if this is a bit weird but I think you are really pretty and would like to talk some time. Btw: sorry if the staring was a bit creepy didn’t meen to stare :) if you want to talk you can just DM me on instagram. My user on there is: JackOP81.

She smiled at the note again and logged in on to her alt account and searched the user name. She followed it after she had found it and DM’d him.

Hey coffee shop guy! This is the girl you gave the note to. I am guessing your name is Jack? So hi! I would also like to get to know you.

Instagram

Pop Crave

Liked by: User1, User2 Landonorris and 100.756 others

Pop Crave: @_Y/n_y/l/n seen in cafe working on something new? Possibly new content? We are excited to see what is going to come from this!

Comments:

User1: OMG I AM SO EXCITED FOR NEW CONTENT!

User2: This is so disrespectful! You are basically stalking her!

User3: that’s so true! It is always so disrespectful erom where they take pictures!

User4: ew not her again

User5: why are you being so mean? She is amazing!

User6: YES I LOVE HER!!!

User7: Wait weren’t Oscar and Lando there?

User8: OMG YOU ARE RIGHT!

User9: it is probably nothing! They have never been seen together! We don’t even know is y/n like F1!

JackOP81: @_not_y/n this you

Not_y/n: well we seem to both learn something new!

Would you guys like a 2nd part?

Pls comment, like or repost if you enjoyed it! And let me know any thoughts and feedback!

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #op81 #op81 x reader #op81 imagine #op81 x you #op81 fluff #op81 fic #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic

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digitaldiarystuff · 17 days

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Our Secret Pt.2

sooo i’m starting to write before the poll is over hope the result stays the same lol

also thank you for not giving up on me💕

you can read part one here

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pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Y/N x Fermin Lopez

summary: you are Pedri’s girlfriend and know his friends, one of them being Fermin. It doesn’t look like he likes you very much but what if he likes you too much?

genre: angst

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That night after Fermin dropped you at your place you had a weird feeling in your stomach you couldn’t quite place, you didn’t do anything wrong, you kept reminding yourself. Fermin is literally Pedri’s friend, he was just doing you a favor and you’re mad at Pedri because he left you alone, that’s it.

After taking a much needed shower to clear your thoughts you laid on your bed hoping to sleep quickly but unfortunately, you weren’t that lucky and had trouble falling asleep. You felt upset about Pedri’s behavior at the party and suddenly realized all the other times he made you feel uneasy in public, there were times he didn’t feel comfortable being seen with you because you weren’t official yet and that’s understandable given the fact that he’s insanely famous but a part of you felt like you shouldn’t be hidden no matter what. The more you thought about it, the sadder you felt but finally, you felt your eyes closing.

The next morning you woke up a little late and with a headache, great, you thought. You found your phone in between your sheets and looked at missed notifications secretly hoping to see a good morning text from Pedri but there was something else. An unsaved number texted you at 8.32 am

Hey, good morning! Hope you’re okay and don’t have a headache or stomachache, I think eating McDonald’s that late was a mistake 😅

You immediately realized it was Fermin and your heart warmed with his thoughtful words, he didn’t have to text you or check up on you but still did it while your boyfriend couldn’t even bother asking if you went home okay. It’s not like he was asleep because you knew for a fact he had practice this morning so he had to be up. You decided not to let it get to you and started typing.

Hey thank you so much for everything, I don’t know how I’d survive last night without you! And yes the nuggets definitely were a mistake lol, hope you’re okay too

You reread the text trying to make sure it’s not weird but why would it be weird, it’s just two friends checking up on each other even though you didn’t even know he had your number before today. He could’ve easily got it from Pedri, right?

Fermin didn’t text you back after that and you thought maybe it’s for the best but you also didn’t hear from Pedri until well into the afternoon when he called.

“Hey” he smiled softly like he wasn’t black out drunk last night

“Hey” you said with slight coldness in your voice but you weren’t doing it on purpose.

“Are we still on for tonight?” he asked without even mentioning anything about the previous night’s events and you were kind of taken aback.

“What’s tonight?”

“We have that charity event, remember, I told you a week ago.” you suddenly remembered him asking you to accompany him to this fancy event.

At first you were thrilled with the idea thinking this may be the night you make your relationship official but he quickly shut the idea down by telling you he’d pose for the cameras out front and meet up with you once the auction starts. You were less excited now but still said yes and forgot about it all till now.

“Oh yeah, sure we’re still going. How are you planning on going there?”

“The boys and I were thinking about getting a limo, can you take an Uber and meet me there?”

“Do you not want me in the limo?” you asked shocked by how inconsiderate he was being. First he hides you from the world and now he wants you to step in an Uber with a fancy looking dress and ride there alone.

“No of course not, you can come get ready at mine then. I’ll be at the house by five.”

“You know what, I’ll find my own way Pedri. You don’t have to worry about me, not that you care.” you said and ended the call feeling agitated.

He tried calling you a few more times but you didn’t pick up, you even considered turning your phone off and not showing up but wanted to have a nice night with him, maybe this could solve your issues.

You started getting ready for the event, trying on 2 different dresses. One was an off the shoulder black silk maxi dress and the other was a dark red spaghetti strap maxi dress with a wide slit on the side and a corset as a top. You took mirror selfies with both dresses and sent it to your best friend who was on top of your messages app and started on your makeup as you waited for an answer. Your phone pinged not long after and you picked it up expecting it to be Elena but was shocked to see Fermin’s name on the screen. You remembered saving his number in the morning. He sent you a single text.

Definitely the red one

Your cheeks heat up immediately realizing your mistake, you sent the photos to Fermin instead of Elena because he was the last person you texted.

I’m so sorry, it was meant for someone else lol

You wrote back but made a mental note to wear the red dress, maybe it was that much better. You anxiously waited an answer from Fermin but it never came and you felt stupid, did he think you did it on purpose or was he being the cold and stoic Fermin you know again? You felt like you managed to make him open up more and made progress in your friendship and would hate if he went back to being distant. You thought about what can you text him that would make him answer but before you could find something your phone started ringing.

Fermin Lopez

You picked it up slightly nervous.

“Hey”

“Hey, are you not riding with everyone else to the venue?” he asked straight away without even asking how you were.

“No, um, I’ll go straight from my place so…” you drifted off not knowing how to explain why you weren’t going with your boyfriend.

“Are you ready?”

“Well, I’ll probably be ready in 15.” you looked at yourself in the mirror, you had the dress on and your makeup was almost done.

“Okay, I’ll pick you up then.” he suggested but his voice was so neutral you couldn’t understand any emotion behind it.

“What? Fermin you don’t ha…”

“I’m on my way Y/N. I’ll text you once I’m outside.” he said and hung up before you could even reply.

You stood there for a few moments trying to understand what just happened, why was Fermin this interested in how you’ll arrive at the venue or how you’re doing and more importantly, why wasn’t Pedri?

You decided to push these thoughts away and put on your accessories for the night but was a little too slow because Fermin already texted you before you could put everything on. You told him you need 5 more minutes and he was welcome to wait in your living room whilst you finish up and he soon rang the doorbell.

You opened the door revealing Fermin in a suit, this was the first time you’ve seen him this formal and admittedly, he looked nice. Actually he looked so good that you had to tear your eyes away from him but he didn’t look like he noticed, he was too busy looking at your figure with wide eyes. This may be the longest he’s ever looked your way but once you made proper eye contact, he immediately looked away.

“Hi” you smiled and hugged him softly, kissing one of his cheeks. He smiled at you and placed his hand on your waist careful not to put it too low. It felt more like a fancy first date than two friends carpooling to a charity event where your boyfriend was waiting for you and the thought made your stomach turn. There was something about Fermin that you couldn’t understand, he was never inappropriate or weird with you but you couldn’t help but feel something and that something scared the living shit out of you.

“You look amazing, told you this was the best dress.” he shyly said and your cheeks turned red with his compliment, you knew he preferred this dress but it was also your favorite. You didn’t wear it for him.

“So do you.” you replied and it was his turn to have reddened cheeks. He looked down at his shoes and didn’t look back up until you spoke again.

“Let me put on my shoes and we can go.”

You went into your shoe closet and picked out the nude heels you had in mind. They weren’t too high but still elevated your look. You dropped them in front of your door and tried getting in them but struggled because of your dress hugging your body tightly, Fermin soon noticed your uncomfortable state.

“Here, let me help you” he didn’t even let you reply and kneeled down in front of you to help you step into your shoes and buckle them, he did one foot and lightly tapped your calf for you to hold the other one. His one hand on behind your calf steadied you while the other helped you and you were standing so close that you could feel his breath on your exposed leg which made you shiver. You placed one hand on his shoulder and he looked up at you, his eyes were filled with yet another emotion but this time you knew it wasn’t something like sadness or anger, it was pure lust and you hated that you also had the same look on your face.

He slowly rose to his feet but you didn’t let go of his shoulder, you felt glued to him at that moment. Fermin must have felt the same because he stood so close to you that your noses nearly touched and he made no effort to pull back, you knew better you really did, you should’ve taken a step back thank him for helping you and go to the event but Fermin had other plans.

He suddenly closed the gap between you two and pressed his lips onto yours in a hasty manner like he had to do it, he did it so urgently as if he needed you and you couldn’t help but move your lips with his placing your hand on the back of his neck. Your judgement was too clouded to stop as he walked you back into your living room without breaking the kiss, he only stopped when your back hit the wall and a soft moan escaped your lips.

“Fermin” you mewled as he was moving his hands all around your body and on your exposed leg.

He pulled back slightly, your foreheads still touching and both of you panting. His eyes opened for the first time since he kissed you and looked straight into your soul.

“Fermin” you whispered this time not even sure if you were asking him to stop or carry on.

“Y/N, I want this. I want this so fucking much but if you don’t, I can get out of here now and we can pretend this never happened. I’ll never bother you again.” he softly said and you were surprised at how calm he was talking contrary to how passionate he was being mere seconds ago.

You closed your eyes to try to slow your heartbeat down, your whole body was shaking a little. You tried to think but all you could think about was his lips and hands on you.

You stood there for a moment before leaning in again and he happily accepted your advances telling you to jump and you obliged not caring about anything else in the world other than Fermin. He was making you feel that alive.

“God, you’re perfect” he said while carrying you to your room and kissing every inch of skin he could find.

“Just make me feel good” you begged him and he nodded eagerly. He was going to do just that.

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docholligay · 3 months

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Choose Your Own Adventure February 2024

Hello hello! Okay, so, at the end of this is the poll results, as I will reveal every time the answer is revealed in the text. It was pretty decisive on some points and less so on others! The write in I'll put a few of the options I considered, but when the one I went with came in, I chose it because it GAVE ME A ROUGH IDEA OF A CONFLICT AND AN ENDING, BLESS. Uhhh....thank you all so much for helping me out with this, I know it's not my greatest work but I am getting back to the groove of writing at all again, and for your patience in that, I thank you.

“I don’t know what you want me to do about a broken belt.”

Haruka’s hair dripped thick drops of water onto the front of a black leather jacket that had not yet seen a scratch or wrinkle. She had admired the bright chrome of the zipper, the snaps of the lapel, and even with rapidly accumulating water damage, all of these things were still true. What was even truer, however, was that it was an ineffective rainjacket at best.

“I want you to do nothing. I prefer you stop pretending there is any value is standing here, and admit you have no way of fixing it. Not to hem and haw over an opened hood, offering a new thought every five minutes.”

The moon glinted off the carve of Fareeha’s features, the jet of her hair blending into the high collar of her lined field jacket, the rain rolling off it as if it were nothing. The glow illuminated her dark eyes just enough to give Haruka the full scope of her judgment.

Haruka smacked the edge of the van, which Fareeha noted with only the twitch of her eyes, and rolled her shoulders back, standing inches from Fareeha, her hand raised in a point.

“Listen, if you think you’re so smart, you fix it, okay? I’m a fucking mechanic--”

“Who allowed her pride to have us sit for two hours in the dark. To kill the battery.” Fareeha’s hands remained firmly in her pockets.

No matter how straight Haruka held herself, Fareeha looked right into her eyes. She never looked away, and the more she looked, the more Haruka was aware of her own weediness, the way Fareeha was solid as the brick wall Lena had jumped over half an hour ago, and Haruka was mostly filled out by her jacket.

Worse, she was right.

Haruka looked at Fareeha, jutting out her chin, daring her to throw a punch, realizing not only would she not, she was completely unconcerned about Haruka’s doing so. She was so sure she wouldn’t even need to be ready. Haruka’s face began to burn, even in the cold of the rain, and she felt her hand begin to close.

“Hey! Ruka, this looks like a great party.”

Haruka looked away first, and bit the inside of her cheek as Mina swanned up next to her, twirling a Dva brand hot pink umbrella over her shoulder. Haruka shrugged carelessly, dragging a pack of cigarettes outside the inside of her jacket, an easy snap of her lighter and a quick shelter from the rain revealing sweet relief. Pleased enough with breaking up the near international incident, Mina pulled out a flask, the hood thumping shut behind them as they took a few steps to the middle of the road.

Cards shuffle, and are dealt, and hands are made of them. There was no difference in poker or in groups. A king is powerful, but only in the right situation. A two of spades may make a straight while a king does nothing but gum up the works. This was a bad hand full of good cards, and Mina had the feeling that the two of them were the royalty breaking up the straight.

Haruka took a deep drag of her cigarette, closed her eyes, and leaned her head back, blowing the smoke up into the arch of the umbrella. Mina watched it circle and dissipate as the door to the van opened and shut, Fareeha’s voice low and cool inside.

“I knew it was the belt.”

“I know.” Mina passed her the flask, and gave the umbrella a little twirl, sending the drops spraying into the night.

Haruka took a drink, and swallowed without noticing what it was or whether it was any good. It was peach vodka, by way of Mina dissolving a bag of peach rings into a bottle of Nikolai. It was not good.

“I was just trying to--” a puff of the cigarette, “--and she’s so--I mean, God. Why even try, you know, when she’s..” Haruka gestured with a wave of her hand into the darkness.

“So intimidating?” Mina looked up. There were no stars tonight. Just the moon, and even she was coquettishly veiling and unveiling herself in the clouds.

“I am NOT intimidated by her, Mina. Not at all. She’s just fuckin--”

“Right, right.” She took back the flask, “She’s kinda hot though.”

“I guess,” A frantic drag, a wave of the hand, “If you’re into that.”

“Tall, dark, and muscular, yeah, who the hell wants that? Penetrating eyes, a chisled jaw, shoulders like fucking Atlas, I mean, what a niche marke--”

“I get it! MInako!” Haruka threw down her cigarette and crushed it into the road.

Mina, only pawing at Haruka the half-hearted way of cats with old toys, was looking across to the wall Lena had jumped in lieu of watching Haruka and Fareeha butt heads and bleat at each other. There was something about it she could not quite reach. It shouldn’t have been anything. It was a simple grey stone, the mortar between it old and crumpling in places, but the wall still seemed plenty stable, that old build of patience and labor holding steady even as the rain chipped at it. She could see the rise of the house’s roof over the top of it, the widow’s walk peeking out. There was nothing in the dark, just the dim outline of the balustrade against the sky.

But she turned her back to it, anyway. So it couldn’t see her.

“You’re right,” she cast a big smile at Haruka, “I do think Lena’s hotter, now that you mention it.”

“I didn’t say that!”

---

The knock tried to echo, but was put down by the rain, as Lena attempted to huddle under the eave.

There was no answer, but she hardly expected there to be. It would be the rare sort of house, on a night like tonight, that didn’t have any kind of light at all, no smoke billowing out from the chimneys, not so much as a lightbulb above the door to let people know you were home. Because no one was home, and hadn’t been for a long time. She didn’t even remember seeing this place on the map, before their cell phones went dark.

The storm has downed a tower, Fareeha had said without concern. She sounded convincing, and the whole of the van had nodded along, but Lena wasn’t sure cell phones worked that way. In fact, she was pretty sure they didn’t, but Fareeha had this snippy little way of asking her what she’d studied in university whenever she knew Lena was right.

And at least one of them realized they had to provide a united front.

Lena had known this grand tour was a bad idea from the time it was first suggested. There was something to be said for having to glad-hand with the rich and well-connected, and Lena was happy to do that at parties and benefits. There was nothing too terrible about telling a story that was amusing, or daring, or harrowing, while sitting in a nice suit and drinking champagne. She’d had worse assignments.

Babysitting was another thing entirely. Fareeha had said allowing a ride along would show the efficiency, professionalism, and discipline of Overwatch. That it would convince the Kaiohs in a small way of the importance of their money, and in a much larger way, the importance of their backroom political power.

Fareeha would never call herself an idealist, and would shake her head at the accusation, but only an idealist would think efficiency, professionalism, and discipline were things people like the Kaiohs cared about. What they wanted, Lena considered saying, was to have an elite fighting force in their sphere of influence. What they also wanted, Lena nearly added, was for the Talon problem to go away and for no one ever to mention their involvement in the early funding of a certain Dr. O’Deorain. What they wanted above all else, Lena would have finished with, was yet another little phone call to be easily made by their ‘people’.

Lena was cheerful and brightsided, sure, but Fareeha was the idealist, and that was the truth whether she liked it or not. She wanted to say.

But she hadn’t, what she had said was, ‘It would ‘elp if we were any of those things, wouldn’t it?’, flashed Fareeha a smile, and agreed to play tour guide.

Now, here she was, sopping wet in front of a chipped and carved wooden door, steadily rapping even though she knew there was no one inside. There was no one inside, unless they were using a single dim candle like a quaking heiress in a romance novel, but there was something about the place that felt palpably alive to Lena, all the same. It was almost as if the greyish tan of the house was a skin, and she could see the heartbeat, slow but steady, just below the surface. Like someone sleeping.

She shook her head, looked down at the ground, and then popped up just as quickly, giving a quick shrug and a laugh.

“Not that cracked, not yet.”

But there was the sense that there was something there, and when you removed the spookiness of the house and rain and the moonlight, it was only that there must be someone around. She gave a quick jog to the side of the house. A colonnade graced the side of it, sticking out of the house like a broken bone, incongruous with the firm boxed edged of the place. Lena tucked herself under the shelter of it and peered in the window. The pale light revealed a few chairs, a table, halfheartedly covered by muslin. A chandelier dripped from the ceiling like a spiderweb festooned with evening dew.

A woman in a gilt frame stared back into Lena’s eyes.

A blast of cold air slipped under her jacket, under her sweater, under her shirt, despite all the tightness and tucks, and Lena shuddered, her body snapping to full attention. She bit the inside of her mouth and counted the lilac bushes at the edge of the garden. Deep breath in. Slow breath out. She rubbed the back of her neck and pulled a cough drop out of her jacket pocket, the tart lemon and cool menthol coating her mouth. It was nothing. Just the wind.

The rain was coming straight down, though, wasn’t it? She hadn’t noticed it being windy as she’d scampered across the green. And she was a pilot, she was always looking at the--it was nothing. She wasn’t a meterologist or anything, anyhow. It’s just a house, An empty house.

Well, just because there was no one inside didn’t mean she couldn’t get inside.

Whatever Fareeha might say about it.

___

“Correct. I should apologize. It was my error in allowing her to take the time, and to believe in her expertise.”

Fareeha was folding clothes into a military duffel bag, choosing from a rumpled canvas affair with a peeling Harvard logo and a half-attached pocket. Each item she chose was examined, wrangled into a neat square, and shoved into a tightly assigned section with firm hands, punctuating her thoughts.

“There could be other ways to be saying that.” Angela touched her on the shoulder. “She is young. She meant well, I think.”

Angela took her long blonde hair down and looped it up again, clipping the hair claw over it securely. Her pink and grey sweater hung off the edge of her shoulder absentmindedly as she peered into the night.

“Should Lena be taking so long?”

Fareeha took a toothbrush out the canvas bag and placed it in a black zipper pouch. “Angela, If I had any fear about Tracer, it would be that she had abandoned us to drink in some,” She made a final assessment of the duffel bag and zipped it shut with authority, “pub miles from the house or road. I would not waste your time, or mine, worrying.”

Angela nodded silently, and crossed her arms over her chest, her slate eyes a touch greyer for the exchange, listening to the rain. Fareeha sat for only a handful of seconds, staring at the duffel bag, and then turned her head to Angela.

“That was not meant for you. You did not deserve it. I am wet, I am cold, I am annoyed with Tracer. I will snap at her, instead.”

“No,” Angela shook her head and moved closer to Fareeha, “She was going for help. Be angry with the van,” she kissed her cheek, “Fareeli.”

Fareeha looked to the corner of the van, as if daring the woman sitting there rto say anything about the nickname, kiss, argument, or indeed the van, house, or country they were sitting in. The corner offered nothing but a scribble on a piece of paper. Fareeha gave a short exhale of breath that was as much as she allowed a sigh, and looked out the window again at their two charges drinking out of a flask under one of Hana’s promotional umbrellas.

“You are right, of course.” she pressed her lips together tightly. “I will apologize, because I have almost no choice. Never mind that even on the subject of my apology to her, there will be some sort of balking argument.”

Angela was about to repeat her belief that Haruka was young, and Haruka meant well, and Overwatch cast such a long shadow, so maybe Haruka herself wasn’t even sure how she felt about it, and that was understandable, but if Fareeha could only be so very charming, as Angela knew she could be…but the corner beat her to it.

“Let her help you with something.”

Fareeha’s head snapped to the corner, her eyes focused with all the keenness of a bird of prey.

The corner continued.

“You make her feel undermined, because she’s constantly looking for reasons to feel undermined. Everything makes her feel slighted, like someone just isn't the next sentence, which is, ‘you're worthless.’ There’s a short list of things she thinks she’s good at, and this whole thing has taken away fixing cars and being tall. Let her think you need her help. It’ll smooth it. I think. I guess.”

Fareeha glanced to Angela, who only shrugged. She

“That is ridiculous. Barking at me like a dog will not improve her worth”

“See, you don't want to say--I didn’t say it wasn’t. Yes, it is. She’ll grow out of it eventually, promise. It’s a long trip there, and it’s not without it’s trials, but--I mean, actually. Well. I think. If I know Haruka like I think I do. But I haven’t been surprised by her so far, seeing her. Here. In person. Which is a thing that can happen. Like you, and Ang--Doctor Zeigler. I haven’t been surprised, I feel like I know the players on the chess board pretty fuckin well right now.” She laughed, but it was more of a braying, nervous pause as she scratched behind her ear.

“Because of your research.” Angela added with a smile and a comforting nod.

“Yeah, that.”

Fareeha put her hand on the door handle, but turned to the woman before she exited. “What was your name, again?”

“Doc.”

Where, praytell, are we? <--- This is a poll link!

POLL RESULTS

#doc's choose your own adventure

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orchid-mantis-petals · 3 months

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WHEN HOME BECOMES YOU CHAPTER 8

/ Hello!! HI!! I am so excited to drop this chapter it was so scrumptious to write.

/ As per the Poll (Which is now deleted) you loves asked for this Chapter tonight, I am here to give.

/ I forewarn, I have not proofread it this time. I am far too tired to try that tonight. So I will likely proofread and edit tomorrow AM.

/ As always thank you to @maximumkillshot for guiding and giving me ideas. And @taeminsung who is always quick to text me their reacts. Love you both!!

/ Last notes for now, I have a work schedule change coming up. Saturday will become the posting date for this fic. Baring any health complications I will update if there is a delay or of we're on track for the drop. This week will only have this chapter (Unless I get ballsy but with my flare up probably not). So without further ado here we go!!

/ Genre: ANGST, fluff, comfort, cuddles

/ Warnings: Blood (Reader and Bin), PTSD, panic attack, Screaming, crying, injury (Axel, and reader), wound care, SWEARING BECAUSE IM A FEIND (If I miss any comment below I'm very tired..)

/ Summary:

Changbin sleepily rubbed at his eyes as he followed the rest down to the vehicles. It wasn’t as though he slept. Your constant presence at his side that night just eased the tiredness that took time to come. Now he was sure once he was home he would fall asleep like the dead. He was polite enough to bow to the concierge on his way out. Outside the main lobby he shivered, the short sleeve shirt he brought with him wasn’t enough to keep him warm against the chilled air. Winter would make her own debut in the coming months.

“Changbin, where’s your jacket??” Chan asked as he watched the younger shiver beside him.

“I must have left it upstairs in Y/N’s apartment,” the group groaned. Most just wanted to go home and to bed after their long day ended so peacefully.

“Changbin, where’s your jacket??” Chan asked as he watched the younger shiver beside him.

“I must have left it upstairs in Y/N’s apartment,” the group groaned. Most just wanted to go home and to bed after their long day ended so peacefully.

“Well hurry up Bin we’ll warm up the car,” Chan tossed the key fob to him he was thankfully alert enough to catch it before it fell to the floor.

“Thanks!!” He stepped back inside the lobby and made sure he was quick to head up to your apartment. It felt like hours in his tired brain as he watched the elevator climb higher and higher until it finally dinged on the 8th floor. When he stepped off his feet dragged him to the familiar blank door that belonged to your home. He knocked once, twice, thrice with no answer. He heard sounds beyond the wood so he was sure you were awake. They hadn’t even left your garage yet. Not even two minutes ago he was wishing you goodnight with a gentle hug on the way out. It wasn’t until he heard your scream that he leapt into action.

Changbin was thankful to find your front door had yet been locked. Though he was sure he could force it open if he had needed to. There was no time for manners, not when his blood ran cold at the idea of you in pain. The short hallway that was your entryway didn’t yield any results as to why you had cried out so desperately. It wasn’t until he rounded the corner that he caught sight of you. The space behind your couch, just in front of the stairs. Quickly he came to join you. He only stopped when his sneaker crunched on something. At a closer glance he saw a shattered picture frame. The picture that once lay within was cut apart by the glass. There was no time for him to figure out why the photo and frame had such significance. Not when he could see the blood trickle down your hands, it pooled into the cracks of the floor below you. The jacket he left behind was now used to push aside the glass that lay around you. His goal was to protect whatever part of you he could. The sound of the glass drew your attention upward toward him. But in the glassy light your eyes gave off he could tell you were not with him. Your mind elsewhere, not a registered part of this world.

“Y/n??” He called as he stood above you, not far off to your left he saw your cell phone. A call still counting up the time at which you were on with that person. He didn’t pay much mind to it any further, not when he felt your hand clasped around his wrist. He winced as the glass embedded in your palms scratched at his skin. His blood now mingled with yours as it dropped to the floor.

“I promise, I promise to be good,” he was confused, what had you meant when you said you would be good. Had you been bad?? Had he done something to make you think you weren’t good or kind?? Your hand dragged his forward until it settled into your hair. You forced his fingers into a fist your hair caught in his palm. “See, I’m good..I’m so good. Please..I’ll be good if you stop hurting them..please..stop hurting them. I’m here..I’ll be good,” his breath left him fast at the sight of you on your knees like that. You begged for harm to befall you at the expense of another. Tears pricked at his eyes as you continued to beg him for something he wouldn’t dare give you. It was then he realized yet again, you were not here with him. Your brain had cast you into a vast hellscape. One that made him a monster to you, a monster more than willing to usher in pain, to make an example out of your misery.

“Changbin, what’s taking-“ from the doorway he heard Felix but paid him no mind as he knelt in front of you with his hand letting go of your hair. He didn’t face the Australian, not when you needed him more. Felix called to you, but you didn’t respond. Your eyes locked with Changbin as the battle behind them turned into a war.

“Felix, figure out who’s on the phone,” the young blonde nodded as he scooped up your device and moved to the kitchen to speak with whoever was on the other side. Changbin studied your face once more, small cuts across your cheeks had him worried glass had settled into more than just your hands. The streaks of blood wet with your tears as they continued to wash over the scratches on your skin. There was no spark in your eyes. No fire. Not in the ways he had come so used to seeing, not in the ways he’d slowly begun to love. Gently his hand soothed over your tangled hair, his aim to fix what his hand had messed up. Though he was careful to not add to the blood that was all over you. “My sweet Whimsy, it’s me. Changbin. Can you hear me??” His voice was so light so soft all he wanted was for you to come back to the world around them.

“I'll never do it again. I’ll never leave you, just don’t hurt them. Don’t hurt anyone else,” Changbin stayed calm as you continued to beg for something that he’d never give. Something someone else had taken from you.

“It’s okay Whimsy. Look me in the eyes. I am not who you are thinking of. I am not here to hurt you. Come back to me Whimsy,” his motions slow, delicate in regards to you. After a few minutes he could see some light come back to your eyes. “Sweet Whimsy, are you with me??” There was a pause as you looked around the room, then down at your hands.

“Yes..” your voice croaked with the effort to speak through the soreness he was sure you had in your throat.

“Good, can I help clean you up??” When you nodded he slowly lifted you off the floor by your elbow and walked toward your bathroom. He looked to Felix, then to the mess on the floor in hopes the younger would understand what he was trying to ask. Your bathroom was small, but Changbin didn’t care. Not when you needed someone to help you. Not when you let him help you. Something all the boys had wanted to do for a very long time.. He settled you on the toilet with gentle hands before he set a towel on your lap to catch the blood that dropped from your hands. “Where’s your first aid kit??”

“Under the sink,” he made sure you kept your hands still over the towel as he reached for the familiar white box that contained all first aid needs. He rummaged quietly as he sat on the edge of your bathtub. The tweezers were first. He apologized gently as he pulled each and every piece of glass from your palms and fingers. It startled him that you didn’t flinch, you barely registered each glass he pulled free from your hands. Occasionally he noticed a nerve pull the muscles, an involuntary reaction to what he was doing. Your control was scary. He began to wonder how many times harm had come to you?? How many times had you experienced pain at the hands of another?? “Bin??” He had stopped moving. Tweezers poised over your palms as he got lost in his thoughts.

“Just seeing if any needed stitches,” he smiled kindly at you before he put away the tweezers. “This will hurt, I'm sorry,” he didn’t want to add more to your pain, but he knew the next part needed to happen if you were going to heal. Changbin decided to grab a towel close by and soak it in the alcohol rather than dumbing it into your open cuts. This way he had more control over the situation. One by one he cleaned the cuts on your hands and face. The only noise that was heard in the room was the soft rustling of Changbin as he began the process of bandaging your wounds and the soft sniffles you let out every so often. “Want to tell me about it??” Whatever this was, whatever had you, his kind and stoic Whimsy sobbing on the floor in terror was something Changbin wanted to protect you from.

“I’m not ready. I am too afraid,” that was all you needed to say. Changbin understood, maybe not to the full extent. But he did understand the desire to process, gather and heal from it all before you spoke about it. He would give you time. As much time and desire as you needed. So long as you understood he was someone you could come to.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready,” there was a knock on the bathroom door, Changbin didn’t miss the way you flinched and cowered away as it swung open. “It’s only Felix Whimsy,” he relaxed when you settled at the sight of the young blonde.

“Hey there Starlight. Are you feeling better??” Changbin’s heart sunk when you shrugged your shoulders. He reached out to you and gathered you in his arms.

“Let’s get you on the couch,” he laughed softly at your squeak when he lifted you with ease into his arms. When you tried to protest he only held you closer as he took the short walk from your bathroom to the couch. He was sad you didn’t cling to him like he saw women do in the movies. But he didn’t blame you either. Your hands had been cut apart, the delicate soft skin was sure to scar as they healed. He was gentle as he settled you onto the couch. Felix was right there with a blanket and your stuffed bear.

“Starlight, I talked to Ivory,” there was panic that settled over your features. Changbin watched as your eyes darted between both of them. Your waterline turned pink as tears welled up in them. In one quick motion your knees came up to your chest as you looked down, your hair now blocked them from view.

“Did she tell you??”

“No, she said she had wanted to. But you would have been upset. I agreed with her,” both males relaxed when you did, your legs flattened out over the couch, the blanket wrapped tight over your body. “She did, however, recommend a detective here in Korea. She said he is an old friend of hers. She wants you to go see him. Begin the process of ‘finally filing that shit’ her words not mine,” Changbin felt his heart swell when you chuckled softly. Silence filled the room as both men made moves to get ready and go. Though Changbin hesitated with every single step. He didn’t want to leave you. In fact his entire body revolted at the idea of you here alone. He’d rather stay, rather keep you safe beyond just the care of your wounds. He was so unsure, so helpless in the idea of how to ask. He feared you would reject him if he had. That you would shut him out once more.. Just as they stood you snagged both their pant legs.

“I-I don’t want to go alone,” you had reached out to them..Changbin would not turn you away. Not when you so clearly asked for his help. At one glance he realized his personal schedule was so full tomorrow. His help would have to wait. “But I want it done,”

“I can go with you Starlight. Come to the Danceracha house tomorrow morning. I’ll go with you. Binnie has a big schedule,”

“I’ll move it, all of it. For you Whimsy,”

“Don’t you dare Bin. You’ve done more than enough for me tonight,”

‘I will do so much more if only you’d let me,’ he thought.

“You have NIZI tomorrow, Chan will need you more than I will. Lixie will be perfect company,” Changbin chewed on his lip but nodded as he let you win, this time.

“I’ll keep my schedule if you promise to call me..”

“I can live with that,” you smiled softly to them both, but he saw how it didn’t meet your eyes. He saw you fiddle with the frayed ends of your bandage. He’d stop you if he weren’t afraid he’d hurt you in the process. For now he settled with resting his hand over your knee. His hands were so calm as he drew your attention back to him.

“I will be here if you need me,” the uncut pads of your fingers came to rest over his hand on your knee. He was thrilled you felt comfortable enough to reach out to them. To finally let them in, even just a little. “I am going to walk Lixie to the cars. If you’ll let me, I'd like to stay. Just to make sure you’re okay through the night. I can drive you to Lix’s dorm in the morning,” he watched your eyes dart around once more, he was sure you’d protest to the idea. But deep in his heart he hoped you’d let him stay. Whatever you wanted he would do. He would respect every choice you made.

“Please stay,” Changbin could tell it was hard for you to make this choice. Hard to let people in. In his head he celebrated, but outwardly he simply nodded and soothed over your hair once more.

“I will be right back Whimsy. Can I tell Chan what happened??”

“Yeah, I trust him,” that was all you needed to say. He let Felix say goodnight to you once more before he followed the young male out of the apartment.

“Lix, are you doing okay??” he was gentle as he asked, they all knew the empath Felix was. While he could handle any situation with remarkable depth and strength, Changbin also knew how much of a toll it took on him. Softly he chuckled as the aussie sagged against his side. His own arm wrapped around the younger to keep him close as they watched the elevator tick down.

“I’m okay, tired, but okay. I just don’t want Starlight to suffer alone anymore,”

“Me either Lix. We just have to keep trying. Keep being there for her,” Changbin felt the younger nod into his side as the elevator opened. When it had he scooped Felix onto his back as he walked to the front entry. The effect was immediate, from his back the blonde laughed as he kicked his legs in time with Changbin’s steps. It was only when he was beside the cars did he set Felix back on his feet. From there the younger found refuge in Hyunjin. Changbin made eye contact with Chan as the rest began to pile into the car; he motioned the leader to come out and speak to him.

“What’s up Bin, everything alright??” Once clear of the prying ears the other members had Changbin nodded.

“Y/N had a panic attack. She didn’t really share what was going on. But she was pretty upset. I asked to stay over, to make sure she sleeps okay,” Chan nodded, and Changbin didn’t miss the worry that flashed behind his eyes before he settled back into the calm collected look he always had when he was deep in thought. “I won’t be late to schedule tomorrow,”

“That wasn’t even a thought Bin. If Sandy needs you then we will make it work,” Chan looked back at the vehicles before he nodded. “I’ll leave one of the cars here for you to drive tomorrow. Just give Y/N a hug for me,” Changbin nodded, he didn’t comment on the nickname Chan let slip for you. He himself was far too tired and preoccupied with your well being to tease his leader. He’d save it for tomorrow, while they got ready for NIZI. He waited on the lobby stoop while Chan rearranged the cars. After it was all settled Chan handed over a set of keys before he gave Changbin a squeeze to the arm. “See you in the morning,” Changbin waved the others goodnight from where he stood before he wandered back inside and up to you. When he returned he wasn’t surprised to have found you had fallen asleep where he put you on the couch not even ten minutes earlier. As gentle as possible he scooped you up. Blanket, stuffy and all tucked neatly into his arms as he walked up to your bed. He was happy that you didn’t wake at all as he settled you into your bed for the night. Changbin gently tucked you in before he wandered away from your side. He wasn’t sure he would sleep at all the night, not when there was an obvious threat that loomed over your safety. Still, he knew you’d be upset if he didn’t try. Beside your front door he spotted a baseball bat, he wasn’t sure the purpose you used it for. But tonight it would stay by his side as he slept on your couch. The blanket Felix had originally wrapped you up in was left behind on the couch. With one last glance up at your loft Changbin settled in for the night. That said blanket now wrapped around himself, the familiar scent of your shampoo wrapped him in warmth as he drifted off into a listless slumber.

“PLEASE!! STOP!!” Changbin was up on his feet before he could even register what had happened, the bat in his hand he checked the front door. Still locked and bolted. “I’M HERE DON’T HURT THEM!! TAKE ME!!” when he heard you cry out again he took off from the front door to your room. At the foot of your bed he watched you thrash under the blankets he so calmly wrapped around you mere hours before. In seconds he was at your side his hand soothed into your tousled hair.

“Whimsy, darling it's a dream,” he called to you as he waited patiently to wake up from the nightmare. It didn’t take long for you to shoot up out of bed and latch onto the front of Changbin’s shirt. “Hey, hey it's me, Changbin,” his voice was low, gentle, and calm as he spoke to you. He waited for you to figure out where you were. Your eyes darted around the room then came to meet his as you began to calm. “Hey there Whimsy,”

“Hey,” you sighed as you let your hands drop from his shirt. His eyes never left your body, tonight had done enough to you. Yet all it wanted to do was take more from you with every given second. Changbin settled on the bed beside you, not too close yet close enough that if you needed him he was there. Silence fell over the both of you. It was comfortable, and clear as though it was meant to be. He waited until he felt you were calm enough before he stood up to go back down stairs. “Wait,” he stopped as you snagged the hem of his shirt. “Please don’t go,”

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with me here?? I don’t want to overstep,”

“I am. I’m afraid to be alone. Please,” he hadn’t meant for you to beg. Because he would give you anything you wanted when you wanted it. No questions asked.

“Okay Whimsy,” after you settled down beneath your blankets he joined you on the other side of the bed. He tried to not take up too much space, it was hard with his size sometimes. Yet he still tried his best to not crowd you on the bed. Changbin wanted you to come to him, he didn’t want to push your boundaries. So he settled down beside you, his back rested against the silken sheets, he felt awkward and stiff. It was when you reached out to take his hand that he finally relaxed against your bed. His fingers wrapped in your as he turned to face you. “Sleep well Whimsy. I will be here by your side when you wake,”

“Thank you Changbin. For everything,” he watched you sink into your blankets, your eyes half lidded as sleep dragged you under once more. The soft sound of your breaths evened out with your slumber is what eased Changbin to fall asleep beside you. His hand in yours, he knew from that moment on he’d protect you at all costs.

**** **** **** ****

New message: Ivory: Please go see Himora, I know he can help. Axel made it through surgery.

TAG LIST:

@taeminsung @maximumkillshot @feybin @alex--awesome--22 @liknws @palindrome969 @newbbystay @highlydestiny

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marmarthehatterverse · 2 months

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It took forever (and one thorough rewrite) for me to get this to a place I didn't hate. The poll results really helped, so thank you to everyone who voted in that. Anyway, I felt bad about how long it's been, so have almost 500 words.

@steadfastsaturnsrings @coatedpanda16

Eddie is a shit guide. He’s not able to perform any of the skills his test results say should be easy for him. He struggles with the most basic of guide skills, and has only successfully linked with one sentinel on purpose. Yes, Eddie is a shit guide, and that’s exactly why he tries this.

Using training long abandoned, Eddie stretches out his mental awarness and pushes one thought onto the frayed mess that is the feral sentinel’s psyche:

Stop.

The sentinel freezes, his mind growing confused. (In in defense, a guide really shouldn’t be able to do this.)

Stop.

A new panic wells up in his head. These thoughts are not his thoughts. Why isn’t his body moving?! (There’s nowhere to hide in the bone cavity of your own skull.)

Stop.

The sentinel drops to the ground boneless and unresisting. (Eddie thought it would take more effort.)

“...Ouch.”

Eddie snaps his head away from the form of the felled sentinel, and rushes over to where Buck is struggling to sit up. Upon closer examination it’s obvious that Buck must have hit his head during the landing.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” With hands much more careful than tone would suggest, Eddie runs gentle fingers through Buck’s hair, assessing the bumps and lumps that he finds, helmet only able to help so much. Buck winces, but doesn’t try to pull away or stop him. Determining that the injuries are mostly superficial, Eddie helps Buck to his feet.

Buck, looking for all the world like a kicked dog, has the audacity to pout. Eddie’s eyes narrow. “Bobby would have been fine. It would take a lot more than one feral C rank to hurt him. You, specifically, know this.” The pout only grows. “Don’t look at me like that, you could have been seriously hurt. Hell,” he gestures pointedly in the direction of the felled sentinel, “You almost where!”

Buck follows Eddie’s angry hands and seems to become aware of the other sentinel for the first time since his fall. Eddie watches as Buck furrows his brow in obvious confusion. Just as Eddie starts to wonder if he was wrong about the head injuries just being bumps and lumps, Buck speaks:

“Eddie,” He starts slow, like he’s not quite sure how to finish. “How did you get him down so fast?”The questions draws Eddie up short, because Buck asked a great question, how had he knocked a feral sentinel out so fast. He knew what he was trying would have worked for someone like Bobby (well trained S tier guide forever bonded with the S tier sentinel), but even then, it would have taken a minute or two to render the feral sentinel unconscious. So how had he, Edmundo Diaz, very terrible no good guide™ , manage it on his first try in seconds.

#my writing #my fic #eddie is a bitch #who fought me every step of the way #until today #i have no clue what changed #but thank God it did #eddie diaz #evan buckley #bobby nash #buddie #911 abc #sentinel/guide au

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randomfoggytiger · 7 months

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X-Files Collector's Edition: Requiem AUs (Poll Results 4th)-- Mulder Didn't Leave

Part 2 of the Requiem AUs (from this poll): Mulder returns in Requiem whether before, during, or after he finds out about his and Scully's miracle.

Loose chronological order below~

Requiem AUs

@mihosayuri/neytirijade’s This was in response to a prompt

""“I, uh… I’m actually here—we’re here—because I’m about two months late, and um… I took two at home pregnancy tests, and I know those things aren’t always 100%–""

Pre-Requiem Mulder and Scully are back in the IVF office, waiting with bated breath to see if they have surprise, miraculous, positive news.

@drbedeliadumaurier/heartsfilthylesson‘s

isolated systems - Chapter 2 (Tumblr)

""In Bellefleur, shock and dread give way to anticipation, to delight almost. She holds Theresa Nemman’s baby and remembers the one growing inside her, wonders.... She needs to tell him.""

Pre-Requiem Scully finds out about her pregnancy before she and Mulder leave for Oregon. She mulls over the news during their investigation; finally tells when they end up back where it all started: his motel room.

@starbuck09256‘s (Ao3) Back to the Beginning to find the Truth

""Everything in his search had just been leading him back to her. She whimpers in his arms and he feels a sudden gush on his chest[.] [L]ooking down as he gently strokes her bare back he see bright crimson.""

Scully's nose bleeds in Bellefleur; and Mulder zips her to the ER to get a checkup. Both are overjoyed.

@gilliansanderson/spensierata's Strange Trails (Tumblr)

""It was quiet in the car. It was a comfortable quiet. They were comfortable being quiet, it was how they processed the inevitable. The radio crackled and screeched in search of a signal, it reminded Mulder of when they’d lost nine minutes, they’d gotten soaked, he’d marked the ground with an X. We Were Here. He’d screamed it at the sky. Mulder turned it off in frustration so all that was left to fill the silence was the rhythmic pounding of the rain against the roof.... It was nine minutes to the hospital. He reached over to thread his fingers through hers. She only barely squeezed back.""

Mulder and Scully sit in the waiting room in Bellefleur, their absorptive silence morphing into peaceful joy at the good news.

@lokisgame’s (Ao3) Late

""Mulder,” she whispered..., calling him back from the edge of sleep, “I’m late.” “For what?” He mumbled, half conscious, “we just got back.""

Mulder and Scully return from Oregon, dozing on the couch... until Scully drops the gentle "I'm late" bombshell. (I adore this fic.)

a_steady_wish's Alternative Ending to Requiem - Chapter 1

""It’s only three minutes later but seems like an hour when the lines appear, clear as day, and you exhale loudly. You close your eyes for long moments, open them again: it hasn’t changed. You begin to pad back out to the bed, suddenly think you were mistaken, and go back to the bathroom to check again. You were not mistaken: two pink lines. You check the box a fourth time. Making sure you have read the results properly: You have. You are. You are pregnant.""

Scully takes a pregnancy test after their return from Oregon, unable to sleep with her suspicions. Mulder notices her mood when she comes back, teary and happy. (I adore this fic, too.)

TheAddict4Dramatics's Untitled Requiem Ficlet

""The banging continued until it was starting to echo inside her skull. She wiped her eyes and checked her face in the mirror before opening the door. Clearly she did not do a good enough cover-up job and he frowned as soon as he saw her.

“What’s the matter?” There was such sincere worry in his face as he stepped into the bathroom and relocked the door behind him.

“I’m…” But the fine died on her lips and to her utter horror she felt her face begin to crumble in on itself.""

Requiem Scully leaves the conference room where Mulder, TLG, Skinner, Krycek, Marita, and Diana all game plan about Oregon. Mulder insists on joining her, reiterating his loyalty; and is there to catch her when she faints.

@frogsmulder/Brynstein‘s 1. “I love you, please don’t go.”

""I love you,” she murmurs from a distance.

He looks up at her with wide, mossy eyes, flecked golden in the orange light of the lamp. In earnest, his innocent gaze captures her heart in a fist of fiery iron, melting her final resolve. “I love you too,” he answers simply, letting the weight of his affection carry his words.""

Requiem Mulder only wants Scully; and Scully finally admits to wanting him to stay. both are happy to be together for the news.

@mldrgrl’s (Ao3)

MSR 38

""Skinner was already on the phone calling for an ambulance. The gunmen hovered, giving orders to each other to give her air, get her water, find a pillow. Marita knelt down next to Mulder and put a hand on Scully’s ankle.

“Alex,” she said. “Find a blanket.""

Requiem Scully passes out at the Bureau; and Mulder, TLG, Skinner, and Marita all jump into action to take care of her until the ambulance arrives. (I adore this fic, too.) Mulder's intent doesn't end there, dropping a bombshell of his own.

Resignation

""He’d never been so glad about trusting his instincts as he was in that moment.""

Requiem Mulder resigns on the plane (to Skinner's own resigned frustration), returning to Scully's side and happily soaking in her announcement.

Not Again: Part 1 - Gone (Tumblr)

"" The Scully imposter cocks her head to the side and then almost with a shrug, turns and steps off the edge of the cliff.

“No!” Mulder screams, knowing full well it isn’t Scully who’s just fallen, but it looks like her, and he knows it’s an image he’ll never be able to shake. He stands rooted to his spot while Agent Doggett runs to the drop site and peers over the edge.""

AU-- Requiem Scully is abducted instead of Mulder. He carries on through the events of S8, trying his best to find her and finally accepting the help of Doggett and Reyes as well as Skinner and TLG.

XScribe/Red's (Ao3, Gossamer) The End of Time

""He is silent. The echo of her words dies away into the walls. His eyes open wide and he draws his bottom lip between his teeth, biting on it. He releases her from his grasp to run a hand over his face as he closes his eyes. She waits patiently for him, feeling suddenly very peaceful and calm, all panic draining out of her. She listens to the ticking of his watch in the quiet hallway, second by second dragging past them both.""

Requiem Scully tells Mulder in the FBI hallway. He wants to stay, but she insists he go.

Lapsed_Scholar’s Variations

""Mulder had sounded giddy and distracted over the phone.... This, though, was in an entirely different category. Mulder, of all people, Mulder was having obvious difficulty paying attention to a case full of shady conspiracies, paranormal phenomena, abductions, and UFOs. If Skinner had been forced to classify the look on his face, it would have been lovedrunk.

Scully was better at hiding it, but she was also remarkably non-productive and was prone to gazing off into space...at her partner. She would periodically come back to herself, whereupon she at least had the decency to blush and look back down at the papers before her.""

The best-- the best-- collection of Requiem unfolding in many more satisfying ways. The humor is unparalleled, the characterization exquisite, and the different stories gripping and heartwarming. Perfection. (I adore this, too.)

@allyinthekeyofx’s (Ao3) Finding Miracles

""And as I led her to the bed to properly take a look at her, I had to face the fact that she looked sick. Not sick like she looks when she has a cold or the flu or a stomach bug. The way she looked radiated from somewhere deep inside her, reflecting from those limitless blue eyes, the way her expression had faded, chasing away the essence that was Dana Scully as she battled with unfamiliar territory that had laid her emotions bare. Right there for me to see.

Because this woman, my perfect other and centre of my world was afraid...""

Requiem Mulder is called by Byers in the airport; and Skinner has to steady him as he sways from the potentially bad news.

Forte's (The Basement Office) Half an Hour

""He is breathing heavily himself, probably more from panic than from the four-block run, and slaps his palm against the wall as though that will make the elevator rise faster. He is too manic, even for him, and I remember all the caffeine he's ingested in the last several hours. I wonder if I should take his weapon away from him.""

Requiem Mulder creates havoc and mayhem after panicking in the airport; and Skinner corrals him (and later TLG) into orderly behavior all the way to the hospital.

@moonprincess92's (Ao3)

Are you up for writing some season 7 fluff?

""He’d agreed to swing by her apartment and collect the things she’d scribbled down for him on a hospital note pad. The only comforting thought he’d had on his drive was that she’d asked him to go ‘home’, rather than to ‘her apartment ’.

At least any news would be broken by her, and not another faceless doctor.""

Requiem Mulder leaves the airport, afraid Scully's cancer is back. Her joy and muddled responses comedically further this thought.

xphilernj's (Ao3, Two Close for Comfort) Find the Future - Chapter 1

""And, Scully, I wanted the IVFs to work. I truly *did* have those hopes and dreams ... but with you. Only with you. You ... you never knew it, but I grieved with you, for you, for us..." Mulder squeezed her fingers lightly, and reached up to wipe a stray tear away...""

Requiem Mulder rushes back to Scully's side; and Skinner leaves them both happily bantering about monkey babies.

HumphreyWrites/sure-fine-skullz/spookysadsophie/s-humphrey/sophie-writes-things/sophiewrites/SophieRobbins's (Alt. Tumblr , Ao3, WBM)

Requiem Redux

""Her breath hitches, and she smiles. “I’m fine, Mulder.”

He raises an eyebrow, “You know what’s wrong?”

She bites her lip. “In a manner of speaking,” she begins, as he looks at her curiously.""

Requiem Mulder left the airport, too worried about Scully to leave with Skinner.

@tatooedlaura-blog/tatooedlaura/Laura Sprys’s Oregon

""...I will punch you if you do not take your hand off that door right now.”

“Then drive faster.”

“I drive any faster and we’re both going to die long before we reach the airport.""

Requiem Mulder chooses not to leave with the ship, stepping out of the woods to a flood of texts from TLG. Skinner gets him back ASAP; Scully assures him over the phone that everyone has prematurely panicked.

@cutelilcurtain/cutelilscully/cutelilwanda's (Ao3)

For the headcanons prompt: Mulder isn't abducted?

""He cannot process or read the expression on her face, and nothing could have prepared him for the softness of her voice, the hope that filled her watery gaze.

“Mulder, I’m pregnant.”

He freezes and she has to pull him into a sitting position on the bed for fear that he’ll collapse right there.""

Requiem Mulder finds nothing in Oregon but everything back home with Scully (who forgot to ask him about his trip until months later, wrapped up as they both were in their baby.)

Erin Blair/Erin M. Blair’s The Blessing

""Mulder sat stunned for a moment, certain he had misunderstood her words. This was *not* possible.

"You're what?!" he asked.""

Requiem Mulder is shell-shocked by Scully's good news in the hospital.

bellefleur's Arms Wide Open

""I open my eyes and for the first time take in the speckled gray linoleum at my feet. The lifeless tones are such a contrast to my spirits that I can't help but laugh to myself, and with the laughter comes a fresh round of tears. It seems I just can't stop them from streaming down my face, and right now, I don't care. With my head bowed, my hands buried in my hair, and my elbows propped on my knees, no one can really see my face anyway. I need what privacy I can muster, here in this public hallway, to come to terms with this all.

I still can't believe this is happening. I'm going to be a father.""

Requiem Mulder bolts after he and Scully are told she's pregnant. Maggie finds him in the hospital hallway, relieved he is just overwhelmed with happy, anticipatory nerves.

isamariposa's Bullfrogs and Jello

""He feels like throwing up when he steps into the hospital. Maybe he's allergic to the smell, whatever. He walks to the reception and swallows hard not to choke when he asks for Dana Scully. How many times has this happened, how many near-misses? She's on the third floor, they say. Mulder punches the button on the elevator, startles a child holding a balloon shaped like a bunny. He still thinks he's going to throw up. At least the ward is not the one for the terminally ill. He remembers that pain. It had toppled him in half.""

Requiem Mulder is replaced at the airport by Doggett, getting back to Scully as fast as he can. He, however, does not react positively to the pregnancy news, afraid it might be caused by CSM tampering.

@all-these-ghosts/all_these_ghosts’s Say Yes (Tumblr)

""I told you I love you,” he points out.

A smile flirts with the corners of her mouth. “Once,” she says.

“Now it’s twice. You haven’t even said it once.”

The smile fades, and her eyes are dark and trained right on him. Scully says, “I love you”, and his heart does this thing that makes him feel like he’s sixteen years old, even though of course he’s known all along.""

Post Requiem Mulder is not abducted in Oregon; but he does almost scare Scully to death, barging in gun drawn and frightening her into dropping her beloved watermelon.

@frangipanidownunder’s (Ao3) Already Special

""Scully’s news is a thunderbolt. That the impossible truth of their quest is revealed as a collection of growing cells in her uterus. It is both absurd and entirely right. The tears he cries with her are hard to quantify....

So, when Diana makes an appearance at the basement, it’s like the door to their secret world is blown off, leaving them exposed.""

Per Manum Mulder was never abducted; and he and Scully tackle the Lizzie Gill saga with a special addition... Diana Fowley.

@rationalcashew/RationalCashew's

Dark is the Way; Light is the Place - Chapter 26 (Ao3)

""As though it had a mind of its own, his hand reached out to cover her flat stomach. Her eyes, however, never left him; her smile didn’t wane.

“You okay over there?” She asked, after allowing him his moment. Her voice jolted him back into the room.

“Yeah,” he said, awkwardly removing his hand from her body. He let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. In disbelief, he said, “We’re having a baby.""

AU-- Mulder and Scully are sinking into domestic bliss when a serial killer case pulls them out of town. Mulder's paranoia for Scully and their baby's safety begins to put a wedge in their relationship, finally driving Scully back to D.C., trying to give them space while he gets into deeper and deeper trouble.

@cecilysass/cecily_sass/Cecily Sasserbaum's Pause

""Home pregnancy test. 99% Accurate. Results in minutes.

For thirty seconds the box sits there in Scully’s hands. She stares at it.

This box that her mother bought. This box that she put in her daughter’s bag. Her daughter whom she knows is infertile.

Somewhere in the apartment is the sharp sudden sound of Mulder turning off the shower.

Like a ghost, Scully stands up.

She takes the box and holds it under her arm, crosses the room, and steals Mulder’s keys from the entry table.

Without a sound she leaves the apartment.""

AU-- Scully wakes in her car, amnesic and unknowingly pregnant. Mulder at first doesn't believe it's her; and it's not until Maggie verifies and Diana Fowley leaves evidence for the duo to find that he can fully accept that his partner, who was "dead" for a year, is back.

DKSculder's Sweetest Devotion

""I, I had hoped you would be here, when the baby was born. So I put these in my hospital bag, to give to you here.” She took a deep breath, staring at the frayed pages in her hands. “These are my notes, on the x-files, on you. This is a documentation of every case we’ve worked, before I typed them up in reports. It’s mostly shorthand, just my own jotted down notations...."

“What’s the other one?”

“These, are my personal notes. More of a diary, if that’s how you want to look at it. The dates all coincide with the other.” She said softly, handing him the second binding of tattered pages.

He stared at them for longer than he probably should, she had just handed him the truth, her truth.""

AU-- Scully has been a spy since the Pilot; and she finally confesses it to Mulder after she gets pregnant with their child. Mulder MIA, Mulder returning for a case then ghosting, Mulder arriving in time for the birth of their son, and Mulder crawling back to a form of trust in Scully unfolds painfully slowly.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

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salty-an-disco · 2 days

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Man. The character poll got me looking at my designs with new eyes, and I feel like rambling about it, so Imma just do it.

(pretty long artist ramble under the cut)

The thing about me is that a lot of the choices I make when I’m designing something are mostly intuitive/subconscious; just me following a Vibe and seeing what works for the feeling I want to pass on. Not to say I design stuff without thought, I’m just not aware of those thoughts until the design’s done lol

All this to say the character poll got me analyzing my own designs and realizing what my intuitive brain was going for when doing these aissmdmfjdm

this was the first ever concept I drew for these guys, and you can already see some of the building blocks for my final designs here.

The thing that I focus most on, at first, is the overall silhouette and posing. Which is why I wasn’t worried about specific details or polishing up anything in this drawing, I just wanted to get a feel of these characters and see what kinds of shape worked best for them.

Going through each design and my process for them–

Cold was both the easiest and most difficult one for me. While I had a pretty strong idea for his overall shapes from my first drawing and knew what details were important (fluffy collar and head shaped like a water drop), specific details eluded me. I wasn’t sure what to do with its legs or cloak. Eventually tho, I decided I wanted them to be almost completely covered in feathers, leading to their white plumage with dark hands, feet, and face. Something simple, but effective, and I was happy enough with it. I was torn between a diamond or the X for its cloak’s clasp, but eventually decided the X was a more striking detail, and connected her to Spectre more.

Hero is another one that came very easily to me, but whose specific details I struggled with some. I gave him pure white eyes at first, but it limited his expressions, so I ended up giving him those black with white pupils eyes while doodling around. I figured out the helmet shape almost instantly while doing my second ever drawing of him, going for that beak-shaped helm with fiery feathers; tho the rest of his clothes I was really unsure about. Whether to give him a full set or not, if I give him a cape, or metal cladding, etc. The solution came by trial and error, simply giving him different pieces and seeing what fit best, and I eventually arrived on the set he has now!! The secondary clothes just kinda appeared as I doodled him in more casual scenes, and the hair came because I was looking at all the puffy-haired Hero designs and suddenly felt like mine was too bald lol. Overall, I’m really happy with my fluffy and smol son <3 (oh, and yeah, I always pictured him as short in my mind and never thought much about it isjsjdndjndjc)

While it too me a bit to get a doodle of Smitten out, I also figured him out almost instantly. The main thing I wanted for him was to look bright, approachable, and expressive. He’s the only one who has normal-ish eyes because of this, and the side cape was something I gave him to differentiate him from Hero and add to his dramatic flair.

Oppy was definitely the one I struggled with the most, as I had too many ideas in my head for him that all clashed with each other. He didn’t have a set design in my head for a while because of that, which you can see in my early doodles of him where I very clearly didn’t know what to do with his suit lol. His head shape was the first thing I figured out for sure, with those antennae hair strands being present ever since the first doodle I did of him, and for his suit, I just put Reigan Mob Psycho and Larry Pokemon Scarlet in a blender and that car salesman looking ass was the result (centrist politician was another vibe I was going for). I’ve been told he looks deceivingly handsome, tho personally, I just think his face is very punchable.

Broken was prolly the easiest one for me, and one I was satisfied with the first true try (I consider those first sketches up there more of a ‘test run’). I wanted them to look the most similar to Quiet (even more so than Hero), but, well, broken. A reflection of the state Quiet was left in by the Princess in the Tower lead-up. The horn tufts have been ripped off, there are a lot of slashes and cuts across its body, their feathers look unkept and like they have been torn off, and lots of its scales are missing. The sack covering its body is their measly attempt at covering their injuries, and I tried to make all the bandages look old and makeshift.

While the funny corvid face in my first attempt at drawing Contra is very neat, it just wasn’t very fun to draw or allowed them to have many expressions, so I changed it to the face you know now. The curly hair was mostly just me wanting my favorite blorbo to have my favorite kinda hair to draw, and it just so happened that it also fitted with them lol. Them being the only one out of my voices that wear pants instead of some upper body wear is something I always had in mind for them, and the suspenders were more of a little ‘extra’ thing I added to give them more of a clown look alongside with their hat. Something I find funny about my design for Contrarian is that, while it didn’t change much since my first full drawing of them, you can tell something about that first drawing seems off. A little scruffed and odd-looking, and that was mainly because I simply wasn’t used to drawing these humanoid bird things and you can really see me getting the hang of it with how I drew Contrarian, specifically.

(even the colors saturation is something I slowly figure it out by trial and error)

Paranoid was the next one I did, and not to brag but, I think I nailed it that second try aidjkxmddkfkkfc only thing I knew about her design was that I wanted her to have large eyes and a bold spot on her head, and then everything else I just kinda drew around that. And honestly? Really happy with the result!! The bald spot ended up looking a lot like part of her brain was straight-up exposed, so I just rolled with that, and she probably has one of the most fun faces to draw. Her silhouette is also very distinct, with the cloak + fluffy head and horn tufts kinda looking like pigtails giving her a very fun shape. I just love how she turned out, not my personal favorite design, but definitely the one I’m most proud of. She looks like a weird bug and I love that.

While I had very strong images for Cheated’s, Hunted’s, Skeptic’s and Stubborn’s design, it’d still be a while before I actually sat down to figure out their details. But once I did, they all came quite easily.

For Hunted, I just wanted it to look like a Creature. I had the idea of having leaves stuck to its feathers as a sorta camouflage thing, but that’d be to much of a hassle to constantly draw, so I scrapped that and just kept the camouflage marks on its cheeks. I wanted its body shape to look slender and nimble; slightly malnourished. The head shape was mainly me wanting its beak to look the most distinct from the other’s beaked voices, more of a ‘wild’ look, and the cat-like tufts was also added for that more feral look.

For Skeptic, I went back and forth on some details, but the hat, big gloves, and scarf were the things that stuck to the end. Something I find really funny with him is that he wears no clothes besides those accessories and its just the way his feathers are drawn that gives the impression of a suit, or some kinda coat under that scarf lol. His color pallette is the one I find the nicest. It’s mainly monochrome, but I think it works well for him.

Only thing I wanted for Stubborn is Big Soft Kitty. With scars. That was about it tbh, I just wanted him to look big, stronk, and huggable, he’s just a big kitty to me.

Cheated I also knew from the start what I wanted to do with him, as you can see by how similar the first concept and final designs look. Main thing I wanted for her was this sorta ‘uneven’ look, with her clothes seeming like they used to be symmetrical before being sliced and torn up. The slices on an ear tuft and a brow is something that just sorta appeared as I doodled him.

So… yeah! This is about it. It took me a while to reach to this final result, but I’m really glad with how all my designs turned out and seeing that others likes them too makes me incredibly happy!! :D

#Sal Rambles #slay the princess #stp voices #stp-posting

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multiplebirthinwebcomics · 5 months

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Multiple Births

Round 1 Poll 3

Read El Goonish Shive

Read Schoolbus Graveyard

Submitted context (including spoilers) and propaganda under the line

Ellen and Elliot : While they are twins, they aren't technically "same-birth" because Ellen was a duplicate of a gender-bent Elliot created by a magical artifact.

So, for context, one day Elliot got hit with a magical beam of "turns-you-into-a-hot-girl". In an attempt to disenchant Elliot using the magical artifact the "dewitchery diamond" the enchantment on him was actually extracted and transformed into a whole new person with an entirely new soul: a girl named Ellen, who has all of Elliot's memories, but is her own person. Ellen later gets a second set of fake childhood memories from a non-existent dream alternate universe where, among other things, she was raised as a girl, which helps her personality grow beyond just being a female duplicate of Elliot. All of this to say that the answers to the question "is Ellen Trans?" is "by any real-world definition, technically no. But beyond that, yes, very much so". (Side note: Elliot would later figure out that's he's "gender casual", in part because of Ellen asking him "haven't you ever wondered about the fact that I was able to adjust to being a girl so easily despite having all of your memories?")

Anyways, Elliot immediately viewed Ellen as his sister, and Elliot's parents immediately accepted Ellen as their daughter. Elliot/Ellen's friend Tedd's dad (who works for the part of the government that covers-up the existence of magic & hides it from most of society) used his authority/resources to make it so that all legal documentation says that Ellen is Elliot's twin sister, with the "official" cover-story that:

Mr. And Mrs. Dunkel couldn't afford to support themselves and two children, and could barely afford to keep one (Which. Technically, would have been accurate [since we later find out Mrs. Dunkel had to drop-out of college at 21 when she got pregnant with Elliot]). As a result, Ellen wound up in foster care. Now that the family is financially secure, she's been reunited with them

Regarding the "They fall in love with the same person" cliché, at the start of the comic, Elliot was dating Tedd's cousin Nanase. However, unbeknownst to both Elliot & Nanase at the time, Nanase was actually a Lesbian. Even though she really liked him as a person and they got along really well, she just wasn't interested in him romantically and was going through the motions trying to make the relationship work. She broke up with him when she realized that he had unresolved feelings with one of his childhood friends, because she knew he would be too passive to act on those feelings himself.

Flash forward to the storyline of Ellen's creation, and picture this: You're Nanase, you've recently broken up with the person who was the closest you've been able to get to really feeling something romantic for a guy, and after telling your gay best friend Justin this fact, he starts needling you about the about the possibility that you might be a lesbian, which you deny. But lo and behold, you are face to face with someone who is literally just said ex-boyfriend, but a super hot girl. You get close because you are one of the only people able to comfort her through the very traumatic experience of "being brought into existence with only memories of a life that aren't your own". And you feel things with her that you've never felt before.

Long-story-short, Nanase and Ellen develop mutual feelings for each other, confess said feelings, and become a couple."

Taylor and Tyler : They are each other's whole family (well their mother is alive but not very present since the death of their father). As of the last chapter, one might end up being used as a tragic backstory for the other.

#tournament polls #round 1 #indie webcomic #webcomics #webcomic #indie comics #comicblr #el goonish shive #schoolbus graveyard #school bus graveyard #multibirth tournament

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kay-elle-cee · 10 months

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Slytherin Lily Snippet Poll Results + Snippet

Alright, thank you all again for voting in my poll for the i'll be fine, i'll be good (aka Slytherin Lily) snippet! I feel a little dumb for adding the Jily first kiss in BTW 😅 Like, silly me for thinking y’all would actually vote for something else. THOUGH it wasn't a runaway win, so I understand that a lot of y'all probably want to be surprised....

SO. Jily first kiss snippet under the cut (redacting a bit for plot reasons, still need to edit) BUT...if you voted for something else or want the Jily first kiss to be a surprise, send me an ask off anon and I'll send you a little private snippet of your choice from the poll options. Probably won't be 600 words, but it'll still be a little peek! (Let’s all respect the honor system!)

She feels it happening—her grip on control loosening with every tick of the clock as her stomach flutters and her heart beats and her skin heats under his gaze. The words did something to her too, strange as it is. Maybe it’s because since she’s come to Hogwarts, she hasn’t really felt that anything had been hers. That’s not true. She has her tears, her simmering rage, her unshakable pride. And maybe now, after all these years—after detentions and Hogsmeade trips and arguments and distance—she could have him. Her Head Boy. She cocks her head to the side, an innocent smile playing at her lips. “What? Thought it was 'no big deal'.” She lets her thumb slide just a few centimeters—enough for him to remember her hand on his arm, but not enough to be a caress. “Yeah, well, I’m full of shit,” he says, voice low and eyes suddenly a shade darker, hungrier. Lily’s attention drops to his lips and she feels a pulse of excitement course through her before meeting his eyes again. “I could’ve told you that,” she breathes, lifting her chin up—in a silent dare or for an easier target, she’s not sure—but whatever meaning Potter infers from it, his lips are on hers in seconds, hand snaking around her waist to pull her closer as his other palm softly cradles her cheek. Kissing James Potter was unlike anything she had imagined it would be (because yes, she had imagined it, in another life—one before self-imposed isolation and loneliness). She had expected it to be almost frantic, the energy that practically overflows from him leading to restless hands and a need to race and explore every new facet available. Instead, he lingers. He savors. Lily all-too-readily leans into his lips, arms winding around his neck and fingers tangling in his unruly curls. His tongue gently runs across her bottom lip and she eagerly meets him, her hands pulling his head down closer, breaths mingling in a slow, electrifying kiss. She breathes, and it’s all him—sun and spice and woods. In some of the push-and-pull, her shirt rides up a bit in the back, allowing calloused fingers to burn her with every brush against her skin. It sends a shiver up her spine and she hums in appreciation, the sound encouraging more exploration as his hands dance slow and featherlight over her back, her arms, her neck as Potter tucks some hair behind her ear. After a few unsuccessful attempts, he slowly pulls back and Lily’s eyes flutter open, her breathing short. They’re close, arms still wrapped around each other, and Potter—James—is looking at her with disbelief, fingers softly stroking the skin of the small of her back. So much is unsaid between them, the air thick with confusion and excitement and terror, but Lily can’t help but blush under the weight of his gaze.

#i'll be fine i'll be good #slytherin lily #poll results #snippets #kelsey writes #lily evans #james potter #jple #jily

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beautifulhigh · 28 days

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I did not forget the results of the poll, my plan to post a reveal snippet last weekend was curtailed by my OTHER current project, namely my kitchen. Which now has a plumbed in sink!

ANYWAY

For those who are with me on this, here's the Super Secret FirstPrince fic which is, by the end of this post, not quite the Super Secret fic anymore...

Hope you're with me on this ride, and if you're not then no harm no foul just leave quietly so I don't have to be crushed by rejection. Because this one is really waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay out of my comfort zone and I'm still really nervous about it.

To the Keep Reading!

Alex woke to the soft click of the hotel room door. Apparently his security training was embedded deeper than he'd like because he was hauled from his sleep by the noise and the fact that the other side of the bed was empty.

So many things were wrong with this picture and so despite it still being dark out and probably insanely early he was wide awake.

"Henry?" he called, hoping that the noise he'd heard was actually the bathroom door.

He knew it wasn't but he checked anyway.

He pulled on his pants and slipped the room key into the pocket before moving out into the hallway. As they'd taken over the entire floor they didn't have security every other door as would normally have been merited. He looked left then right, only seeing Cash standing at the end by the elevators.

Cash, who accepted his family's request to move to their private security at the end of Ellen's second term. Cash, who relocated his whole life to New York when Alex moved up there and who dropped hints about getting to enjoy good BBQ when Alex and Henry started talking about Texas.

Cash, who had been there through every high and low of his relationship with Henry.

Cash, whose normally solid posture was broken by a single finger pointing down the corridor to his left.

Alex walked to the end of the corridor, tapping Cash's hand in a subtle low five gesture, before heading to the left. The rooms down here were either empty or used by the security team members who were taking the other shifts, but at the end was the reason why this floor had been favoured and requested: a small meeting room that they had been able to make use of to stay on top of official business.

"Have you said anything to him?" Alex heard Bea's voice coming from the other side of the door.

"And say what?" came Henry's reply. "How do I tell him?"

"You tell him," Bea said softly. "After everything you two have been through—"

"Exactly, Bea," Henry interrupted her. "After everything we have been through to get here, how do I tell him? 'Good morning, darling, did you sleep well, by the way we need to talk about the wedding'?"

"Hen—"

"God, I wish we'd never agreed to this."

"You don't mean that."

There was an awful silence, one Alex felt like lasted forever, before he heard Henry say, "I think I do. Sometimes I wish we'd never wrecked that damn cake."

"You need to talk to him."

"I don't want him to hate me."

"He loves you—" Bea started but Alex was startled from his eavesdropping by the sound of a door opening behind him in the corridor.

He turned quickly, too quickly, and there was a flash of movement and a second when he felt like he was falling before there was nothing.

Alex woke up slowly as the light filled the room, rubbing a hand against his face. His arm ached a little as he lifted it, adding to the things that felt a little off. He ignored those thoughts, pushing back the covers and heading to the bathroom. Lifting the lid he started to pee, staring down blindly in front of him as he did so.

The voice in his head was a little louder, a little more insistent, and it wasn't until he was washing his hands that he finally noticed what it was trying to tell him.

Only one wash bag was on the unit: Henry's wasn't there.

He walked back out into the room, looking around for Henry's case but his was the only one there. The other side of the bed clearly hadn't been slept in and even though he knew what the result would be he still flung open the closet to find only one suit bag hanging there,

Panic rose in his chest as he reached for his phone on the side, pulling it free from the charger. As he did so his arm ached again and he instinctively rubbed it. His fingers ran against the raised line of skin and the physicality of it unlocked a memory for him.

"What the fuck?" he muttered, pulling up the sleeve of his t-shirt to inspect the graze there.

It was only when he lifted his phone that all of the horrible, terrifying, impossible pieces fell into place.

One bag in the room, a graze on his shoulder.

His bare ring finger, engagement ring missing.

His lock screen, his childhood dog and not the photo of him and Henry and David.

The date on his lock screen with the calendar reminder already showing.

ROYAL FUCKING WEDDING – TODAY.

The time wasn't what he was focused on, but the date.

Friday, September 6 2019.

"What the fuck?" Alex repeated.

Reasons why this is bullshit

1. I do not live in some science fiction world or whatever and time travel is purely theoretical

2. So clearly this is a dream

3. A very vivid dream in which I can read and write. Apparently I shouldn't be able to read

4. What else can it be but bullshit?

#work in progress wednesday #writing jen is writing #firstprince #Jen's Super Secret FirstPrince fic #fic: masters of your own destiny #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #prince henry of wales #red white and royal blue #rwrb #otp: history huh

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kenobster · 1 month

Note

can you explain the appeal of these ship polls to me?

genuinely asking bc i really don’t get why they happen so often or why people take them seriously. it feels like all they do is breed conflict.

what makes everyone feel so strongly about the winners, especially if it doesn’t actually represent the true popularity of the ship? (not that popularity matters bc if it’s fun then it’s fun and everyone is entitled to their feelings and opinions)

not mad or trying to be mean, i genuinely want to understand bc im bad with social cues and at reading people. what is it about them that you like? <3

so like this is actually super funny to me lol because everything you just described has been EXACTLY how I feel about sports (especially regarding American football fans in the United States). I've actually joked a couple times already about how (thanks to this poll) I finally understand what the big deal about the Superbowl is. In fact, over the last week, I've felt a kinship with overworked cashiers who use their fifteen-minute breaks to check the score throughout the day. Every time one of the previous polls taken an unexpected swerve, please picture me jumping up and down and hollering at my computer like I'm some middle-aged white dad yelling at some referee. 😆

My state has two college football teams, both with avid fanbases, and people get SO up-in-arms about it. Even after finding out I have no interest in sports, people have threatened to commit bodily harm against me if they ever catch me wearing merch of the wrong side's team. To be honest, I'm with you — I've always found that kind of attitude to be super aggressive and needlessly rude. Unfortunately.... 😖(insert my walk of shame lol) I have recently acquired an understanding of the psychology behind it....

In other words, I think your confusion is very similar to my confusion about sports. Sports fans, especially in my state, always seem like they would really consider it a dealbreaker if I wear the wrong merch or that they would really punch me in the face if I show support for the wrong team (which does happen to people at some sports games, but I think it's a minority of sports fans who would ever do that). Most of the time, if you get upset by jokes like that, the other person will drop the act and reassure you. But sports fans will never admit they're kidding. 🙄

Anyway, with that context, I think you first must untangle the phrase "people take [shipping polls] so seriously." The truth is that we're not taking it seriously, but, like sports fans, our humor and social cues are probably difficult to read. Especially for someone not "in on the joke," we might look like we're all upset and riled up. We might say things that sound serious and aggressive. But inwardly, we're actually all laughing about it. None of us really care about the results, we're just here to have a good time playfully arguing our sides.

You're probably still wondering why anyone would find enjoyment out of this, so I think it will help if you re-contextualize it into a framework more familiar... Why do people enjoy roller coasters when the purpose of a roller coaster is to trigger your body into a fight-flight response? Why do people watch horror movies or go into haunted houses when the purpose of them is to scare the shit out of people? Why do people enjoy watching or listening to true crime drama when the stories showcase the most barbaric and cruel forms of human nature? Why do people read AITA threads on Reddit, even though they often depict the wildest examples of abuse/toxicity/etc. in human relationships?

It's because all of those examples allow a person to experience stress/terror/anger/etc. in a way that is safe. Roller coasters don't actually kill you. Horror movies have a pause button. Scary things in haunted houses are the work of prop designers and actors. True crime media and AITA threads involve stories that are happening to other people, not you. Similarly, in shipping polls, I think people enjoy having a safe way to channel their feelings about fandom rivalries in a way that is mostly harmless.

Whatever the reason for our enjoyment, however, I think once you realize that none of us actually care about the results, everything else starts to click into place. But here's some answers to your other questions:

Why do we care about the results when they're never accurate? Because we never cared about the results in the first place, hahaha. We care about what's funny. We care about what makes for the juiciest drama. (I mean, think of how funny it was when that final bracket on the Best Star Wars Character poll resulted in victory for Sebulba instead of Obi-Wan! Lmao!) In short, accuracy is boring. Bribing, cheating, and begging in order to skew results is hilarious.

Why are we so mean and hostile to each other? Because we're not actually being mean and hostile to each other.* We're teasing each other. The same way as two best friends might tease each other (example from one friend to another that I literally saw this morning: "oh my god you are SUCH a nerd 😂"). That kind of teasing doesn't work if somebody cares about the subject matter (for example, that joke would NOT be okay if the aforementioned "nerd" had ANY negative feelings about that word). But in the right circumstances, this kind of teasing can feel REALLY good, REALLY fun, and even increase feelings of security within the friendship! In shipping polls, people are probably just exhibiting the communal version of this.**

Why do people care so much about the winners? I don't actually know the answer to this because this is my first time ever enjoying a ship poll, and we haven't gotten there yet. 😅Someone feel free to pitch in.

Why do they happen so often? Probably clout. Beyond that, in order to make a poll, someone has to genuinely be curious about the results. They can theorize, but they can't know what the outcome will be. Not only that, they have to remember that tumblr polls are all fun and games (or else, imagine how incredibly infuriating it would be to see people trolling). People who want accurate results don't use tumblr polls for a reason; they use official surveys instead. In this shipping poll, OP wrote a rule for each round that the results weren't meant to be taken seriously. So I think they enjoy it for the same reasons as we do. That kind of thrill can be addicting lol, and I can see why people would want to recreate it again and again.

In closing, it's been fun, but I don't think another poll like this will similarly compel me. This has just been a one-time thing that I was able to enjoy because of certain circumstances that overlapped with my interests and sense of humor. In truth, I get just as annoyed at the frequency of these polls, and I will likely need a lifelong cooldown after this one concludes. Frankly, if I'd remembered that the final round would be for a week instead of a day, I might have.... well, I might have made different decisions to say the least, lmao.

[*] This is not inclusive of antis. There is no reason to shit on one ship exclusively when there are 5+ other ships in the running. There is especially no reason to threaten the other side with an "electric chair with a built-in guillotine" if they win. That's not fun and games. That's just fucked up.

[**] Because it's a communal version and not a close friendship, it's definitely hard to gauge people's feelings about whether they're okay with being teased. A comment, to one person, might sound like teasing, but, to another, might come across as hurtful and mean. Only intimate friends can really tell the difference (and even they make mistakes). This is definitely unfortunate, but it's kind of a consequence of human behavior in general — not something specific to these kinds of polls imo.

#.#..#...#....#.....#answer #anon #codywan #obikin

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piecesofeden11 · 10 months

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WIP-Game: The Results!

After this amazing poll (again, thanks for all the votes), I have spend the evening writing a little bit (roughly in accordance with the poll's percentages. It is now late and I have an early appointment for my next Tattoo tomorrow so I will leave ya'll with the fruits of my labour for tonight! Please, I'd love to know what you think <3

Be aware, there's a lot of text under this cut! :D

Soul on Fire (A Merrical story):

"See, Doma. Merrin is a nightsister." Cal's voice dropped into a whisper, as he leaned onto the counter a bit more, giving the Waluna shopkeeper a serious look. He fought the grin that desperately wanted to come to his lips, as Doma fumbled for composure.

"A night-whatnow? Never heard of it, no sir."

"She can perform magic! She can even raise the dead!"

Only when he stepped out of the shop did Cal allow himself a small laugh as BD-1 chirped on his shoulder, wiggling his head in amusement.

There was a flash of eerie green light and for a second, the heat of flames licked up his face before it vanished into thin air. He glanced over and found Merrin studying him, the corners of her mouth twitching ever so slightly.

"Do you want to me to send a corpse in there? To drive the point home?", she asked, her voice serious.

Cal shook his head, then ran a hand across the shaved sides of it.

"Nah, 's all just a bit of friendly banter."

"Like when I told Greeze I would require his arm for a ritual."

Her matter-of-fact tone made Cal laugh again and he nodded.

"A bit like that, yeah. Gotta say, though, I wasn't sure you were joking back then, either."

BD-1 chirped again, his metal feet doing a little tap dance on Cal's shoulder before he jumped off and raced ahead of them, in pursuit of some local critter or another. Usually, Cal felt uneasy about his little friend straying too far, but within the limits of the small Koboh settlement, he had let the droid run around a bit more freely.

The last beams of sunlight reflected off BD-1's freshly polished chassis as he dove in and out of a grassy patch, scanning and analysing to his heart's content.

"You seem at ease here, Cal. It is a good look on you."

They had stopped walking, standing at the edge of the dried of meadow that BD-1 was zooming through, their elbows close but not quite touching.

Merrin's voice was quite, just enough that Cal could hear her over the evening concert of a million unknown bugs. He looked over at her again. She was looking at him with her usual intensity, that he still had not gotten quite used to and he found himself flushing under her scrutiny.

Rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes dropped to his feet, the scuffed and dusty toes of his boots suddenly incredibly interesting.

"Oh yeah? Maybe that's just Greeze's food. Well, Monk's really, he's much better at seasoning. DON'T tell Greeze I said that", he added hastily, looking around as if expecting the short Lateran to be jumping at him from the underbrush.

"Perhaps I will."

Heel (Sith!Obikin):

He wants me to see this he realizes, a spike of carnal arousal lancing through him, which he finds answered in his Master's signature.

Anticipation rolls across his shoulders, manifesting in a near full-body shiver. He looks back towards the hall, suddenly not quite so put off by the show anymore.

Because the Emperor has something planned and the Emperor's plans usually mean a lot of fun for Vader.

In front of the dais, Nute Gunray has thrown himself to the ground in prostration and the rest of his delegation follows suit.

There is a moment of immensely uncomfortable silence, which is suddenly broken by a soft rustle of fabric and a much quieter clack-clack of polished boots on durasteel.

"Viceroy Gunray", the Emperor speaks up, his voice an almost gentle whisper in the grand hall.

"I thank you for your presentation. I am sure it has not slipped your attention that you have been given quite the honor, seeing as you are the final delegation to present during our festivities."

"Why certainly not, Mylord! We are most grateful for this honor, too! It just goes to show the generosity of Your Grace, your profound generosity and..."

The Neimoidian's voice trails off, stopped in its tracks by a single raised hand clad in a pristine white Bantha-leather glove.

"There is a very simply reason for this honor, my dear Viceroy", the Emperor continues and a sharp edge enters his tone, like the edge of a knife across skin with not quite enough pressure to cut.

Vader shivers again, fighting a smirk, his muscles coiling at the outlook of what is to come.

There is a whisper across the bond, a small, but unmistakable signal.

Be ready.

"The reason, Viceroy, I had you appear last is simply this: it would have disrupted the entire ceremony far too much if your corpses had to be cleared away before another delegation."

Before the words can really sink in, with anyone, really, but especially with the small group around Nute Gunray, the Emperor gives a nearly imperceptible hand signal and a single command in the Force.

Bite.

Like Puppets on a Broken String (FixIt - Found on Ao3)

His sight was blurry as water stings in his eyes but he could faintly make out the dim reflections on the surface telling him which way was up.

Gathering the last of his strength, he began to paddle his feet, seeking the light.

After what seemed like an eternity he breached the surface, drawing gasping, desperate breaths into his lungs, focusing, for a few precious moments, only on the feeling of that.

As the water flowed around him, his memories came rushing back to him as well.

Those shots came from the Clones.

The realization hurt more than he cared to admit, and brought with it a host of unpleasant questions he felt too shaken to examine further at that moment.

He also remembered, very distinctly, Anakin's voice calling his name and, Council's order's be damned, he simply could not ignore that any longer.

He opened himself up to the Force, opened the shields he had erected around his mind and heart and reached across the vast expanse of the galaxy towards Anakin, only to find...

Nothing.

Where Anakin should be the bright, shining beacon he usually was, the guiding star for Obi-Wan's inner compass, there was nothing.

Panic began to claw at him, threatened to pull him back under the surface, back into the darkness.

United (Day 7 of the Obianidala-Week - Found on Ao3)

"Anakin?"

Obi-Wan's voice pulled him from his own thoughts, sending a shiver down his spine. No one in the entire galaxy said his name quite the way Obi-Wan did.

Anakin blinked, almost sluggishly so, and turned his head, to find both Obi-Wan and Padmé giving him fond looks. He blushed a bit under their combined gaze and quickly lifted his wine glass back to his lips, emptying it in a few large gulps.

"Ani", Padmé chuckled, reaching over to place a soft hand on his flesh arm. Goosebumps erupted where she touched him.

"Are you back with us, dearest?"

Obi-Wan's much larger, more battle-hardened hand came to rest on his other arm, the artificial nerves in the prosthesis firing off as well.

Anakin shivered, swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat and nodded softly.

"Y...yeah. Sorry, I... just got lost in thoughts, I guess." Aftercare (Post-Zyggeria Obikin):

For most of the flight back, Ahsoka clung to Obi-Wan under the flimsy pretense of making sure that he was alright. It was painfully obvious to everyone in their transport shuttle that it was just as much for her own benefit as for his.

Obi-Wan, in turn, had his arm, the one good arm, that was not currently in a sling tied to his chest, firmly around her slim shoulders, his hands idly petting her bare shoulder. He had his head turned towards her, his chin resting against her montrals, murmuring quiet comfort.

Anakin, sitting across from both of them, tried to wrestle back the flood of emotions coursing through his own system, keeping his mental walls firmly up, as to not burden Obi-Wan with the struggles of yet another Padawan. He felt just about as wretched as Obi-Wan looked, guilt and anger and sorrow nearly blinding him.

He knew he should be the one comforting Ahsoka. She was his Padawan after all, but when the had boarded the transport, she had found her sit by Obi-Wan's side immediately.

That should have stung much more than it did, Anakin realized, not for the first time, but he had come to refer to her as both his and Obi-Wan's Padawan a long time ago, anyways.

That was certainly not the reason why he could barely bring himself to look across the transport's central space.

Hide & Seek (and Love & Care) (Obikin 5+1) Inspired by @grapenehifics An Uncivil War:

"So... three days of being shut in, hm?", he muttered, sending a burst of mischievous teasing across their bond.

Obi-Wan gave him a flat stare, as they exited the room, headed for their quarters.

"Three days to recuperate, Anakin. Rest and heal.", he replied sternly, but Anakin could see the telltale tint of red creeping across the shells of his Master's ears, the pale Stewjoni skin giving away what Obi-Wan tried to conceal.

#my writing #my wips #wip game #star wars #fanfiction #Obikin #Obianidala #Merrical

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bklynmusicnerd · 4 months

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GH Petty Polls Roundup! (Cause I felt kinda bad that I dropped the ball last time, and didn't compile the results of the last round 🙈)

Since we're currently in the midst of the union writers' comeback, there's a lot of developments happening at once. The mood based on a glance at the results is fairly pessimistic but some hope here and there. Which is not that surprising considering post-stockpile, audience trust is at an all-time low, but let's just get into these results.

Going in order of what you guys were most interested in putting your two cents in about:

The groundwork is rapidly (thank god) being laid for the final Trina vs. Esme showdown and regardless of how we feel, battle lines are being drawn and some of our faves are not on the same side. This week made clear that Laura is firmly Team Esme and Ava is firmly Team Trina. I wanted to know where you guys stood and you made yourselves very clear lol.

When asked whose side are you on in the event of Trina/Ava vs. Laura/Esme it really wasn't close at all:

At 97.7 %, Trina and Ava are the people's choice because of course they are! They're ride or die, exude regular bad bitch energy and are found family in its essence.

They have never seriously wavered on each other while Laura and Esme were literally built on the whitewashing of the harm Esme did to Laura's own flesh and blood. Trina and Ava are a comfort power mentor/mentee duo, Laura and Esme are botched redemption prop duty gone seriously wrong. No real competition here.

As for the 2.3% that chose Esme and Laura...

Now onto the results you guys were slightly more divided on...

A certain someone's return was announced on a certain poorly reviewed primetime special and the discourse was immediate. All of a sudden, we had taken a time machine back to 2007. But, since his actual last return was 2017 and a huge dud, I wanted to see where you guys landed on Sonny's Permanent Bottom Bitc-I mean Jason Morgan's announced return.

And for a plurality of you, the answer was the stone cold thrill is gone:

The 2017 return did its damage and there's just nothing for Jason, or his many ships, to offer for you this time around. You're over the leather jacket, the refusal to step up and raise his kids and commitment to a thug life he's clearly aging out of.

32.4% of you are equally annoyed with the announcement of his return but can at least find joy in the man formerly known as Jax fuming in the corner with the confirmation that his conservative clout chasing gamble to sue the network was a huge waste of time.

20.6% of were still too numb over what a bizarre mess the primetime special was to even process the news (I hope you're feeling better ❤️)

And because I do believe in the voice of the minority too, 11.8% of you are excited for Jason's return. You're like me in 2017 and still have hope that he can mature beyond his cyborg ways. All I can say to that is...

And in a related poll, because we are a community united in snark, when I asked how hard you guys will laugh when Drew gets tossed aside for Jason...again. The consensus was clear, 90.6% of you will need a medic on standby, you'll be laughing that hard (I'll be right there with you).

6.3% of you are too kind for this world and will smirk, because you're human and Justice for Scout, but also feel a little bad.

3.1 % can call yourselves the classy minority as you said you'd contain your schadenfreude to a moderate chuckle.

Enough old ass mobster Jason Morgan chat, onto more important matters!

I admittedly felt weird about the first week of the Bobbie's death storyline. Particularly that it was purposefully lined up with the SEC reveal/Granny War fallout. I wanted to know if you guys felt the same and frankly, a majority of you did:

This was a dramatic choice that was a failure for the most of you. Bobbie's death being conflated with Carly's latest feud left us as an audience feeling icky. Especially paired with moments like Carly throwing Bobbie's death in Nina's face and Drew dancing around threatening violence on Nina.

A majority of you (74.2%) felt it was gross and not the proper way to start the honoring of Bobbie's legacy. What was supposed to be an exploration of grief suddenly became a badly timed Nina pile-on.

Luckily, it was followed by a much stronger second week for Bobbie's memorial that focused on her and set the SEC nonsense to the side. But it was definitely a reminder of all the worst habits of the union writers that have led many of us to lose faith in them to focus on the right things.

Which leads me right into my next, equally serious question. When I asked what the truly most compelling feud on GH is, since most of us can agree it's not Granny Wars, the results were unsurprising. The ongoing feud that keeps a majority of you (53.3%) on the edge of your seat the most is....

THE GH WRITERS VS. CONSISTENTLY STRONG STORYTELLING AND CHARACTERIZATION

And who can be surprised by those results? Nothing has been more unpredictable than tuning into see what new, creative ways the writers will come up with to fumble an easy storytelling win!

In second place, it was a tie of Spencer vs. Spencer (13.3%) and Portia vs. Trina's Adulthood (13.3%). Spencer's chaotic tendency for self-destruction and Portia's disturbing commitment to ruining her relationship with her daughter go hand in hand for you guys.

Third but not least, Trina vs. Demon Spawn (6.7%). Trina's tormentor hid behind a baby for a year which meant that Trina, despite her best efforts, was dragged into beefing with a baby for a year. This is a feud that makes no sense but continues to be pushed by the writers, made all the funnier by demon spawn clearly being a Trina fan.

Speaking of Trina fans, since she is once again being bombarded by marriage allegations, let's get into the divorce poll. So many toxic marriages in PC and they can't all last. I was curious to see who you think is more likely headed for splitsville:

The majority of you are not nearly as optimistic as Nina is. You don't think her and Sonny's marriage will survive the onslaught of the SEC nonsense and the inevitable reunion of the Unholy Trinity (Carly, Sonny, Jason 🤢).

The rest of you (34.5%) think that Portia's toxic marriage that she's somehow kept together through sheer force of will (and regularly manipulative weaponization of Trina), will collapse before Nina and Sonny do. All I can say is, for Trina's sake, I hope you're right.

Speaking of failed marriages, I wanted to know what you guys thought of Ava and Nik's post-attempted manslaughter divorcees dynamic. I have to say, these results amused me the most, cause there are a lot more Nava curious people than I thought (stop hiding behind these polls, live your truth 👀)

A plurality (48.1%) are here for the united-in-toxicity chem that Nik and Ava have going on right now. They were a disaster together, but they kind of miss the disaster, and you kind of love watching how much they miss disaster. As someone who considers Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, I share your "why do I not hate Nava???" dilemma and understand it well.

That said, 22.2% of you are staying strong and remember that Nik had a baby (allegedly) on Queen Ava and believe Ava's pride should override any residual chem. Real, and let's hope Ava agrees with you (🥲).

Oh and the 18.5% of you that are most concerned about Ava getting out of Sonny's house are the smartest ones in the room. None of this will matter if Ava has a front row seat to that Unholy Trinity reunion, we gotta get her outta there!

Onto another amusing result. After another Sprina getaway was announced (the union writers clearly saw us all mock them for losing their crown jewel pairing to temps that outwrote them), I wanted to know how you guys felt about this lil Sprina-centered union vs. temp writers competition. And a majority of you (51.9%) have your priorities in order:

Union, temp, who cares as long as you get more Trina and Spencer fluff. You're Sprina capitalists first and Sprina purists second. You don't really care if this upcoming getaway lives up the NYC hype or writing. Your take on this union vs. temp Sprina competition is this:

But for those of you who do care about this temp vs. union competition, 44.4% of you think the union writers are fighting a losing battle trying to do their own Trina and Spencer getaway. You think the NYC trip was a level of magic that can't be topped, especially because the temps snatched not one, but two key milestones from them. You think the union writers slow-burned too close to the sun and won't be able to top NYC despite their best efforts.

3.7% of you actually do have faith in the union writers to reclaim Sprina as theirs, and I have to say I admire that level of optimism post-stockpile, I really do.

Speaking of audience trust (or lack thereof) in the abilities of the returned writers, I was more than a little frustrated in the way beloved throwback character Lois was written in the SEC story and wanted to know how you guys felt about this regime's brand of sloppily warping history for their agenda:

74.1% of you said "hell no" to the idea of your fave from the past being written by this regime. If the price is that they all of a sudden have to sing Carly's praises, regardless of whatever history they had with her, then you'd rather they stay gone and hold onto your pleasant memories of them (good call). You don't trust these writers to not ruin your faves and considering what they're doing to characters like Lois or even Laura, I can't argue with that.

To be frank, the strike stockpile left the audience and the returned writers on a sour note with each other. While there have been some real positives with their return (Bobbie's memorial week was well done and well-received), there are still a lot of kinks to work out. I was curious about how you felt about their return so far:

43.5% of you felt it was the "same ol crap" from them. No clear improvement, just the usual nonsense.

30.4% of you found their return so far to be so terrible that it made you miss the temps (ngl the weak pov for Trina this week made me miss the temps too).

21.7% of you think the returned writers have come back with interesting story ideas but are executing them badly so far and 4.3% of you agree the ideas are interesting but also think they're executing them well.

So, for the most part, trust in these writers remains low. The vibes are wary and pessimistic with the return of the union writers. Maybe I'll ask this question again in a month or two to see if the union writers prove us wrong and acquire some consistent goodwill. For now, their welcome back isn't exactly warm.

Last but not least, I wanted to know how you guys are feeling about Trina's teased morally gray era in the midst of the endgame of the sociopathic mooch. Moral grayness is its own spectrum, and I wanted to see where you guys wanted Trina to fall on that spectrum, light gray or darker gray?

In a very exciting turn of events, 73.1% of you said that you want Trina vs. Esme to escalate until Trina is forced to kill that pest in self-defense. You don't want Trina to just dabble in moral quandary. You want her to get blood on her hands. You want to see the full extent of the darker side of her heroine traits like protectiveness.

26.9% of you are more protective over Trina's "pure" status and aren't quite as ready to let go of her as a good girl moral compass yet and you'd rather her send Esme to prison with Victor's evidence. A neat little full circle to the Pandora's Box motif that started in the summer. Trina was against the idea of using fake evidence because it was wrong but changes her mind when she sees the system as is won't contain Esme because she has power people backing her (Laura 😔).

Whether you're Team Light Gray Trina or Dark Gray Trina, I think pretty much everyone is ready for our girl to start retaliating because going high hasn't worked out all that well for her.

And so concludes another GH Petty Polls Roundup! You guys were as hilariously and brutally honest as ever in your participation, and I appreciate it. I know everyone isn't as loud in the tag about what they think so I like to see what you quieter ones are thinking. Glad to see you're as messy as the rest of us ❤️

#general hospital #obviously going under a cut because im not a monster #as a spiteful nik apologist the nava results made me cackle #nik can really come back from a lot of shit 😭#but mostly i blame MW for being the ultimate chem queen

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waywardangel-wilds · 11 months

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GUYS! I finished the new chapter!!!! After realizing that my vote was actually messing up the poll results the romantics won. Yay! Enjoy!

I stood still. We were asked to wait a moment just outside the train door for the cameras to capitalize on the last available shot of us before we entered the tribute train. The flashing lights were blinding enough that I wondered if any of the photographs would even be usable. I must have been clenching my eyes shut the entire time.

If I thought the room in the Justice Building had been expensive, the tribute train more than blew it out of the water. It was awash in crystal chandeliers that didn’t swing despite the speed of the vehicle, polished dark wood surfaces, and plush carpets that gave me the overwhelming urge to pull off my shoes.

Once aboard, Effie guided Peeta and I down a hall, motioning to two doorways.

“These are the tribute quarters.” She pushed open the door. “One bedroom, bathroom and dressing room each.”

She smiled as she told us to wash up and get dressed for supper. Everything in the rooms was at our disposal, and we should take the time to enjoy it. I didn’t doubt that my dark mood was visible on my face because she scurried away from me rather quickly.

I didn’t spare Peeta a second glance, knowing him as I did, I could predict his intentions. I tried to run into on of the rooms before he could catch me, but it was useless. He slipped in behind me and pushed the door closed with his back.

“Katniss—” he said and by that tone I knew I didn’t want to hear it. I could feel it coming, like a tempest. Unstoppable and devastating.

“No, don’t.” I shook my head and turned my face away from him. I stood in the middle of the room, my eyes searching for a closet or doorway I could close in between us so I could be alone, but there was no escaping him when he was determined.

“I have to,” he whispered, and I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not,” I fired back, crossing my arms. I was already crying. “Not at all.”

“I’m sorry about leaving Prim, and about hurting you.” He said. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek. “But I’m not sorry about being here with you.”

I nodded; I already knew. “I hate you.”

“You don’t.” But we both knew that. “I might be dead in two weeks.”

There he went. “Don’t say that don’t, not now.”

“I have to,” he insisted again. “I have to.”

I looked at him.

“Katniss, I love you.” He looked at me like it hurt. His face started to get blurry from my tears.

“I know,” I nodded because of course I did. Why else would he do what he did?

“I had to tell you. I’m sorry.” He stepped towards me. “I don’t want to be fighting with you.”

I rubbed my eyes. “I’m sorry I hit you.”

“It’s okay,” He touched my shoulder, but I shook him off.

“No, it wasn’t.” I insisted, “I shouldn’t have done it.”

“I forgive you,” he reached for my shoulder again and I let him.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” I grumbled allowing him to pull me into a hug. I closed my eyes and breathed him in. My voice was shaky when I spoke again. “I love you too.”

“I know,” he said against my head. “That’s why you were angry.”

I hiccupped hard from a sob. “I won’t be able to do this,” I lamented into the privacy of his clavicle.

He squeezed me tight. There were no words he could say that would make me feel better. Nothing that involved him dying could.

“Maybe you should get dressed for dinner,” he encouraged rubbing his hands up and down my back. “You barely ate at home.”

I sniffled and rubbed the snot off my face with the back of my wrist. “I like my dress.” I protested. “And I don’t want anything from this place.”

He dropped his head down to press his nose against the side of my head, his lips coming to rest on the very end of my jaw. “Please, eat something, for me?”

I closed my eyes briefly. Warmth radiated from the spot where his lips touched me, slowly spreading through the rest of me. It felt so good, so impossibly good, that I knew I would do anything he asked.

“Okay,” I agreed and pressed the side of my face into his.

He leaned back and I immediately missed him. He reached up to rub the tears off my face with his thumbs, I smiled when I looked at him.

“I’m a wreck, huh?” but he shook his head.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.” He said it simply, like it was a fact, and gave me a kiss.

LINK TO THE REST OF THE CHAPTER!!

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ashwithapen · 3 months

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the results from the badly summarised WIP poll are in...

and the winning vote was for option #3:

queer kid has 2 year long mental breakdown and will not stop writing about it

which won with 7 of the 17 votes cast! thank you to everyone who voted!

the WIP in question was tales, second edition, which is written as journal entries from a 17/18-year-old as they reflect on time as it passes. below the cut is the promised snippet! (it's actually quite a lot ehehe, enjoy!! <3)

[12] there are stop signs in the city.

this morning i had a dentist’s appointment. it took far too long, but that’s cause the girl cleaning my teeth was obviously new. she scratched my gums until they bled, and in my head, while i was lying there, i thought up what’d i’d say if she brought up my eyes watering slightly. apparently i have this thing where when i lay down, i get really weepy.

after, on the way back home to drop my sister, i was nearly in tears. it felt like i was going to shut down or something, my head resting against where the window met the car door. at a turning, i sat up and was met with a bright red stop sign in brilliant condition. i think i’d been thinking, “someone save me”, and then, like an echo almost, i heard three voices read the word stop. i could tell you who, but i think i’d like to keep that private a little while longer.

it was crazy, i thought, but undeniably on-brand. i was heading to my father’s office after my sister was dropped off to work on my psychology paper due an hour from when i’m writing this. all because i couldn’t handle a dentist’s appointment, i would fall apart and shut down in my dad’s office space, and i’d mess my grade up, and then none of the universities would take me. i applied last week and i’ve received three offers already. and all because of a dentist’s appointment, i could feel my future slipping away all over again.

i’ve been thinking about it since school started back, how this’ll be my “last time” doing so many things. last first term pre-uni, last halloween. last christmas show pre-uni, last independence day. last christmas as a child, last new years. getting the first offer from plymouth with a condition of grades i’ve already been meeting was basically being handed the golden ticket. i would be free to go. no matter if everywhere else told me to bugger off, i could leave. freedom.

i’ve been thinking about it since that sleepover a few months ago at my friend’s house. his brother, two years above us, was away at college for his second year, so i was sleeping in his room. it was so empty, much emptier than it was when he lived there full-time. just the scaffoldings of his livelihood still pinned to the walls and tidied into the corners, waiting for his eventual return. i wondered that night how my room would look without me in it, how the dust would totally coat everything, how the window panes might just fall out, how the haphazardly hung stars, lights, flags, and calendars might all come falling down in my absence. would it forget the smell of me? the warmth of my skin, tears, breaths, and the cold of my blasting AC? the familiarity of my motions, the sound of my alarm clock, the care embedded in my mannerisms?

i keep hoping that i’ll be right once more and uni will be how i anticipate, calculations scrawled like a whirlwind must have tunnelled through across the whiteboard. surely i will be able to work like it was spain, and surely the meds will still work, and surely i’ll wear hoodies, and wear my hair out, and wear my shoes thin. i’ll have time and accommodations and a chance. i’ll make new friends who i don’t need to explain myself or my loves to. hell, i’ll hug them and touch them and call them my family and call just to tell them i love them.

i worry that i’m wrong, too. i worry that nothing in the world will change and i’ll still be 13 and dumb as high hell. i’ll still be the outcast, more firmly than ever. i’m too much, even for my own breed. i write about the wrong things, and i love the wrong people, and i care about the wrong things, and i love the wrong places. i’m too different for normal, too normal for different. i’ve spent a whole childhood diligently walking the same rope that the acrobats must train decades to master—quite literally the balancing act of a lifetime.

it’s always been such a fine line, hasn’t it? always one pill away from a heart attack, one cut away from my last, one point away from a pass, always one grade away from a graduation, always one dentist appointment away from university. i heard three people say ‘stop’ and i felt something there, what i don’t know. i’ve forgotten. there are stop signs in the city, blindingly bright red and somehow i don’t heed their advice, choosing instead to fall and fall and fall, like a different acrobat, legs twisted in billowing silks. i do not know—and will not know—if i meant to fall until i reach the end of the rope, but i cannot stop now—and whether it's out of fear or some unbidden drive, i have no clue.

[13] there are murals on the walls of my mind.

i think that maybe i’ll be a philosopher. or a psychologist, like freud, i believe is how his name is spelt. similarly, i believe his whole thing was he didn’t prove his ideas. but just as i can’t ever look up how to spell his name, i can’t google his tendencies. still, i think i’m right about that—just don’t ask me why i’m right, because i won’t have anything other than more unsourced thoughts to spew.

so i watched a movie, “good will hunting”, and now i must think i’m the most pretentious person ever. not because i am (unless i am), and more because i’m so inclined to think like that blonde boy, to string together sources. there was a moment where i realised that not everybody, hell, a lot of people probably don’t relate to will. i do—not all the way, but i do. ever been pushed so hard or pushed away? ever been so cautious or conscious of yourself that you learn how to talk and talk and talk like your words can be a deterrent? ever known something so intrinsically, like maths, like words? ever said “i know” and known that yes, but on a deeper level, no? i think i’m the most pretentious person ever.

so i’ve been writing these essays for school recently. well, really, i’ve been writing one for maybe 9 months, but with how many times the title has changed, it’s only been half that. one’s about the link between autism and gender identity—a phrase i type in my sleep these days—and the other is about sociology, psychology, theatre, and video entertainment, and the rate at which trends are taken up. thrilling stuff across the board, i know. they are the easiest, hardest essays i’ve ever had to write. and the part that makes it so hard? that the people with the influence haven’t gotten around to studying my learned truths.

somewhat so similarly, i’ve had to, over the last year, write music for school. i’ve never had formal training when it comes to technique, but i gotta feelin’, ya know?—in that horrible “movie star from a different pay grade” accent, ya know? and they ask me to explain myself. i’ve done nothing wrong, but more so i’ve done something good, and none of them understand how i managed to get from A to C without sparing even so much as a glance at B.

in english, there’s a term called “parataxis”. i don’t remember the real meaning of it, but i tell it to myself “if it feels like there’s a comma here that only you and people similarly ridiculous would have put there, then it’s parataxis”. and how i came to this conclusion? i guessed as much with a raised hand back in september, and my teacher said something like “pretty much”, then said, “you do it a lot”. i’d have gladly played russian roulette with the odds that some limb i went out on stylistically as a fanfiction author was a real “technique”.

there were some times that i’ve been reminded of recently from when i was 10 or 11 years old, back at the end year of elementary school. (funny how my mind would take me back there now as i end high school.) once i made up a language on the spot because i couldn’t remember how i’d proofed a maths sum on a test and got accused of copying because of it, and then of lying for not owning up. second, i was afterschool talking with my teacher, and with some unknown, forgotten context, she posed that she’d rather be home than dealing with the situation at hand. she asked, “wouldn’t you rather be at home too?” and in my young wisdom, i stayed quiet, like how i should have done maybe countless times prior to that moment. i shook my head or shrugged eventually, and my teacher said, “what, you don’t know if you’d rather be at home or at school?” this time i definitely shook my head. i didn’t know.

so i’m turning 18 in two weeks, give or take. i’m scared to count how many days exactly. i’ve also got mock exams for the next two weeks, give or take. i’ve also got covid again.

so i’ve been wondering recently, like nietzsche probably used to, about whether or not i’m right. more deeply, i’ve been wondering if i’m real. i don’t know though, maybe i’m just feeling pretentious again. but i hear people in my head.

i don’t want people to read this, like how i imagine they will, and think that i was crazy. not to be insensitive, but sometimes i wish i were. then maybe i could consider existentialism from the comfort of my own holding cell.

“it’s not your fault.”

i’ve been thinking about that too recently, all the things i don’t remember from back then and back before and the other day and so on. i don’t know what, but there’s a piece of a puzzle missing under a sofa somewhere and a child’s fingers are an inch too short to reach it, so it is lost and forgotten, much like my life. just out of reach. i wonder, from the comfort of my own holding cell, if maybe the puzzle never existed in the first place. i haven’t had a good night’s sleep since before i was born, and i mean it. i died when i tasted oxygen, my brain was secluded and tubed and set down in a test lab where today it has sweet dreams about writing books about itself and hearing company within itself. what a strange, twisted, demented little thing you are.

have you ever seen picasso’s self-portraits? well, i hate to be the one to tell you, but it was me. i did them all. i saw a different person every time i thought about myself until there were 13 separate renditions of my life story. i pity them all, every sad-eyed abstract thought that went too far. i loved them hedonistically, fucked them till they bore the sweetest fruit, then scraped off their skins and devoured them and spat out their seeds like they couldn’t dare to grow anew. i made faces in the face of aliens, the whole human race of them, and in return i got broken mirrors, showing me these faces that aren’t quite me but who have my brain and my beautiful eyes.

when’s the foot dropping? it’s gotta be any day now.

i’m waiting i’m waiting i’m waiting i’m waiting i’m waiting i’m waiting i’m waiting i’m waiting i’m waiting i’m waiting i’m waiting

interlude g “the drop”

the feeling of an avalanche spilling over, tumbling helplessly down the mountainside. the feeling of the highest drop on a rollercoaster, your stomach up by your heart, your heart up in your throat, only now, i do not dare laugh.

she wishes me good luck. gracias. i think what a dumb thing, but it’s the hour now where the only thing left for me is dumb, good luck.

interlude h “sophia”

yesterday my friend was involved in a home invasion. the six men tied her, her brother, and her dad’s pregnant girlfriend up. her dad was killed. her brother was kicked. she was nearly raped. she was supposed to go away to study in milan this year, but when i texted her ipad (they took her phone), she told me she’s putting everything on hold until next year, even though we’ve only been in this year for short of three weeks. i asked her and she told me she’s still seeing the same therapist as me. she’s got a session on tuesday the 23rd. i asked where she was staying and she said that she wasn't allowed to say anything. there’s 24-hour security. her and her brother are going to be smuggled out of the country soon. they were supposed to be killed too, but the bandits didn’t follow through. i’m not sure i’ll ever see her face-to-face again. i’m not sure where she’s going, if she’ll go to america or come back here.

i thought about how much she changed my life. how i met her when we were 12, how she taught me the word gay, how she and i bore similar hand-crafted engravings in our skin at a time, how we planned her wedding in greece once, how we chased her dog down the beach the last time i saw her, a year a 21 days ago.

in other news, i turn 18 in 4 days. wednesday the 24th.

interlude i “gently”

i’ve not felt myself for a while, a sluggish embodiment of displacement. a presently ongoing, everlasting simmer that sighs great washes of hot vapour, condensation sticking faux-delicately to my ruined pink cuticles, and every exhalation is of insurmountable mourning: never enough.

to what do i owe the pleasure of this unannounced, unexpected visit? to which god must i bow so lowly? what charm of luck has been bestowed upon me that i should respire between walls of wallowing and beneath this ceiling so limited? a child’s becoming, a martyr’s martyrdom. at this end, i see for me my ever beloved cold; ice melting into deep brown irises, freezing my gaze upon this future.

every thrash drags my dejection further down. every breath of hope serves to suffocate, stuck in the wooden body hanging there in the windowsill, spinning the poor thing in a way so unbecoming that it almost makes me envy it. a life cut down thoughtlessly. caught by the earth’s cold, smothered by the darkness, embraced by such resignation. if i am to be something so estranged, then let it encompass me. let it swallow my brightness, stars blinking out endlessly across the whole universe. let it become me. let me be estranged. let me be slowly forgotten as the first child’s laugh, as the first lovers’ night, as the first mother’s grief, as the first dead’s eulogy.

i will become what i have never dared to, so long as my flesh is still warm.

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