#should be put in frame or made into a fic title lmao

[dropthedemiurge]

The Eclipse finale reaction

I'm a bit too sad that I didn't save previous comments while we watched together The Eclipse with @springkitten (there were much more squealing about AkkAyan) but reacting to the show's finale was a lot of fun with you xD

If you don't mind, I'll post those for the memory because the phrasing of some of them was hilarious lol

About main characters:

About Chadok and Dika:

More about Chadok:

About Thua and fandom:

And finally, Akk reacting to Ayan:

#the eclipse #the eclipse series #the eclipse reaction #my collection #no love in suppalo just misery #should be put in frame or made into a fic title lmao

[r0b0-writes]

Gasp- reqs are open :DD I’m a sucker for the devil!cakes au- maybe some fluff with cakes not entirely aware of mortal things? Like “Ayo what is that- a convenience store? Doesn’t seem to be that convenient to me”

Sorry this took so long to get to! Consider this a crack fic lmao. They just have a bit of fun in a grocery store. Causing havoc is what entities like these are made for! [I asked the AU creators for permission, so we're good to go]!

Title: Low Profile Words: 1,354

K_K stretched his arms over his head as the trio entered the supermarket. “Why’re we here again~?” it asked with a yawn. “This place is so boring~” it whined. 

The smallest of the trio stopped ahead of them. “We’re here,” Sweet turned. “Because you two ate all my food,” he pointed at K_K and Cap’n. “And as punishment, you two are helping me shop for groceries. And you’re going to carry them all in for me, too,” he replied. 

K_K hummed, “I don’t see why I have to do all that~” they pretended to pout. “Cap’s the one who ate all your favorite candy~” They sent a devious glance in the angel’s direction. 

If he had less control, that comment would’ve prompted the feathers in his wings to puff at the accusation. “You offered them to me! I didn’t know!” Cap’n jumped between the two and clasped his hands in Sweet’s. “I was framed!” He turned and pointed his finger at K_K, “I should’ve known better than to trust a de–”

“Keep your voice down!” Sweet pulled the angel back by his headphones. “You’re supposed to be keeping a low profile, right?”

“Yeah, Cap~” K_K smirked, “we’re supposed to keep a low profile~” it teased. 

“You, too, K_K,” Sweet eyed. “Don’t cause any trouble.” “Trouble? Me?” it feigned offence. “K_K, I’m serious.”

Seeing the look in their eye, K_K’s facade fell. “Okay~” he smiled, “no silly business from me~” Though, as honestly as he had meant it, a devil would do what a devil was meant to. K_K couldn’t fight his nature.

The store was fairly large, big enough to get lost in. The trio had been in the store twenty minutes and had only managed to find a few items. What was supposed to be a short trip was quickly diverging into something else. The worst part however, was that Sweet was found this was less a punishment for them, and more one for him. Shopping with Cap’n and K_K was worse than shopping with kids. K_K was constantly putting extra junk in the cart which only encouraged Cap’n to start arguing. To retaliate against the argument, K_K would reply with teasing, prompting the angel to repress a blush. It seemed no matter what the two did, their differences always led to a rather awkward tension. 

“(We’ve been here forever),” Sweet groaned. “(I don’t know if I can take their bickering much longer).” Most of the time it was endearing to hear the two like this. However, it’d been a long day and it was quickly becoming grating.  

K_K smirked and elbowed Cap’n, “convenience store? What’s so convenient about it?” “Snrk!” Cap’n turned, leaning a hand on K_K’s arm for support as he held back a laugh. Sweet turned, “are you guys helping or not?” he tapped his foot.

“Course we are, Sweetie~” K_K beamed. It casually reached above the speaker and grabbed the box he’d been struggling to reach. It handed them the item with an innocent smile plastered on its face. 

Sweet narrowed his eye but placed the box in the cart. “Okay… well, if we want to get out of here soon we should probably split up,” they concluded. “Do you think you two can handle getting the snack stuff?”

“Of course~!”

“I’d rather stay with you,” Cap’n crossed his arms. Sweet shrugged, “up to you, I guess. But I’d hate to see what K_K could get up to on its own.” 

Cap’n slumped, they made a fair point. The smile on the devil’s lips seemed to agree too. 

“C’mon, Captain~” K_K smirked, “don’t be a slowpoke~” Groaning, the angel followed behind. 

Angels weren’t supposed to be this confused about devils. Yet, this one always left him guessing. It wasn’t fair that he, an angel, could fall prey to a devil so easily. He had to keep his guard up whether he wanted to or not. For Sweet’s sake, of course. Not his own. He needed to be strong to make sure Sweet wouldn’t be corrupted by some horned, winged, pretty, demonic entity. 

“(Pretty)?” he shook his head. That was not his thought. It couldn’t be. He would never think something so absurd about a devil. He was better than that. 

An arm wrapped around his waist as the two walked down the snack aisle. “Wanna have some fun~?” K_K teased. 

Cap’n jumped from their hold, desperately trying to ignore the heat emerging on his cheeks. “What? No! We’re just supposed to get what we need and leave–”

“But where’s the fun in that~?” K_K huffed. “These mortal places can be so boring~ Don’t you want to do something fun~?”

“With you? No.” Cap’n stepped further away. “You always get me in trouble.”

K_K rolled their eyes and pulled the angel back to their side. Hands on his shoulders, they whispered, “don’t you angels know how to have fun~? I bet Sweet likes fun~”

Cap’n knew it was a trap. He knew it was a ploy, but he couldn’t help himself. He gave into the temptation. “Fine, what did you want to do? If it’s not too bad I might join.”

Without explaining, the devil picked him up and set him in the cart they had grabbed. “I’ll skate down the aisles and you grab the food, simple~” 

All of Cap’n’s eyes narrowed, even the angelic ones over his shoulder. He knew there had to be a catch, something K_K was hiding behind that innocent expression. Against his better judgement, he trusted the smile. A poor choice on his end. No sooner had they started did Cap’n realize the speed they were starting to go. They flew down the aisles, Cap’n barely had time to grab the items needed. It would be impossible is not for the disembodied eyes that helped locate everything faster. 

K_K laughed as he kicked off the ground, making the cart go faster and faster. Using an eye to look ahead, Cap’’n warned of incoming customers. Even when the others in the store shouted, K_K remained smiling and laughing. They looked at the short angel in the cart with a grin. This was an angel that knew how to have some fun! He just needed the right push sometimes.

“K_K! You’re gonna get Sweet in trouble!” Cap’n braced himself as they swung around into another aisle. 

“No, I won’t~ No one will even–” “Wait! K_K, stop the–”

A pyramid of soda bottles had been set up in the center of an aisle. The duo were going too fast to slow down. They barely had time to brace themselves before crashing into the pyramid. Soda bottles rained down upon them like an avalanche. 

K_K popped up amongst the bottles, only disoriented for a second. They crawled a short distance to see Cap’n still lying on the ground. For a moment they assumed something was wrong. Angels could take quite a bit of damage, a simple crash shouldn’t have hurt him. They could see his chest rise and fall quickly. It was confused and moved even closer. As they got closer they realized he was laughing. He had a hand over his mouth, trying to stop himself, but it was useless. A smile appeared on the devil’s face. “(There he is).” 

Cap’n had only just sat up when they heard hissing coming from around them. 

“Oh no,” they both said in unison. 

The soda bottles fizzled and exploded throughout the aisle. Two liter bottles went flying over the shelves into other aisles. The two were drenched in soda, yet somehow still found themselves laughing at the shouts from other customers. Anytime K_K heard a shriek, they couldn’t help but throw their head back and laugh. Even Cap’n found some enjoyment from the scene. He hadn’t done something so absurd in such a long time, if ever. 

Sweet appeared before them, immediately trying to pull them from the ground. “Guys, c’mon! What did you do?!” It took some doing, but Sweet managed to get the two out of the store without being stopped. They laughed all the way out the door. 

“Ugh, what happened to keeping a low profile?!”

#devilcakes #again. super sorry this took so long #i'm not sure i really completed the request the way you wanted me to #I tried to keep this as close to canon concepts as i could #hope you liked it! #it's still got a touch of fluff #but mainly chaos #[r0b0.rqst] #polyrhythm

[cupidhaos]

playgrounds and first kisses

pairing: cha eunwoo x reader

word count: 2.3k

genre: fluff, slice of life, first kisses, childhood friends

summary: we go back to the time that eunwoo realizes his feelings for y/n go beyond platonic

warnings: none

a/n: it has came to my realizations that you could probably read these little fics without having to read my series and honestly if you think these are cute and like them you’re most likely gonna get ur heartbroken if u read the series LMAO also kudos to those who remember the original title :P

[part of my What is Love? series]

eunwoo was thirteen at the time that he had moved into mingyu and y/n’s neighborhood - his house right up the street from where the two of them had lived side by side. he came right in time as the summer quarter was just about to start up, transferring into the nearby middle school.

eunwoo’s first encounter with mingyu can be described with one word: wholesome. once eunwoo and his family had settled in, the kim’s had decided to take a visit to their neighbors to greet them. the young boy stood behind his mother as she talked to mrs.kim. mingyu stood next to his mother as he tried to get a better look at the other. his shyness got the best of him though as he inched more and more out of view.

“mingyu! don’t be rude and introduce yourself!” his mother scolded with a smack on the head. mingyu winced at the action but quickly recovered. a toothy smile spread across his face as he stuck out a hand towards the other young boy.

“i’m kim mingyu!” he greets, the atmosphere around them lightening up. eunwoo moves into frame and shyly takes his hand with a nervous smile “cha eunwoo” and right as he took his hand - mingyu began rambling on and on about this new video game that he bought and that was when eunwoo knew that they were gonna be good friends.

two weeks past after their initial greeting and the two of them got along greatly. they would both constantly be hanging out together and playing video games. occasionally inviting some of mingyu’s other friends that he had known also. it was a hot summer day where eunwoo had met the person that would captivate all thoughts in his mind for the next five years. the two middle school boys were playing video games in mingyu’s room when mrs.kim yelled for mingyu. the younger boy just waved her off as he concentrated hard on leveling up.

“mingyu! go greet y/n! they just came back from their trip!” his mom yelled from downstairs, but it seems as if mingyu was too zoned onto his game to even acknowledge what she had said. eunwoo looks up curiously from his own device at the sound of a new name “y/n? who’s y/n?”

it wasn’t until the sound of the doorbell ringing and hurried footsteps up the stairs that eunwoo would soon figure out the identity of the mystery person. the door to mingyu’s room slams open, causing both of the boys to jump in their spots. the sound indicating ‘game over’ was heard loudly on mingyu’s gameboy as he groans loudly.

the person standing at the door wore an annoyed look on their face as they carried a paper bag in their hand. they huffed angrily where they were standing and crossed their arms “you jerk! you didn’t even bothered to say hi!”

mingyu just rolls his eyes and grabs his gameboy again “i was busy. besides i didn’t want-”

he was cut off as they threw the paper bag towards mingyu’s forehead, resulting in a large ‘thunk’ noise to echo throughout the room. mingyu quickly grabs his forehead in pain, rubbing the targeted area as he tries to soothe himself. “what the hell!”

“i even got you a souvenir you ungrateful jerk!”

“what even is that!”

they stand proudly with a smile on their face and place their hands on both of their hips.  “its a volcanic rock from jeju! do you like it?”

eunwoo watches the scene lay out in front of him from where he sat on the floor by the closet door. he was pretty sure that this person was the ‘y/n’ that mingyu’s mom was talking about just moments before. he was also pretty sure she didn’t even see him in the room.

“you threw a rock at my face! you’re gonna give me a concussion!” mingyu grumbles as he still holds his forehead in pain. y/n doesn’t even acknowledge what he says as she goes to throw her arms around his neck, a smile so big on her face that eunwoo was worried it hurt.

“you missed me didn’t you! theres no need to lie gyu just admit it!” she cheerfully states and eunwoo nearly missed the blush that covered mingyu’s embarrassed face. “get off! you stink!” mingyu huffs as he shoves y/n off of him.

y/n lands on the floor - a pout on her lips as she crosses her arms. it was then that she noticed the other person in the room. the two finally make eye contact and y/n feels her face heat up. “mingyu! you never told me you had someone else over!”

the young boy just rolls his eyes at her though as he picks up his fallen gameboy. “you never gave me a chance to talk idiot! besides, you just showed up here unannounced!”

she just gives him a glare before turning back to eunwoo. she gives him a bright smile before extending out her arm just like how mingyu did when they first met. “i’m y/n! i live right next door! did you just move here?”

eunwoo nods shly in response to her question as he reached out to grab her hand. he couldn’t ignore the warm feeling he got in his stomach when their hands made contact. y/n glances down at the gameboy in his lap and gasps, moving to sit next to him.

as y/n leaned over his shoulder, asking millions of questions - eunwoo could feel his ears heat up at how close she was sitting next to him. he was also able to feel the stare he was getting from mingyu who sat on the bed, trying not to make it obvious he was looking at the two of them.

months pass by and eunwoo settles in nicely at their school. he became closer to y/n and mingyu along with making more and more friends despite his shy persona. soon enough two years passes by just like that and he was already fifteen.

now y/n wasn’t an idiot. she knew that her friends were attractive and popular, having their club full of admirers. people constantly coming up to y/n, asking if she was able to put a word or two in to one of her friends. but she had always looked past their looks and treated them normally despite so many of her other classmates putting them on such a high pedestal.

the day eunwoo knew that what he felt for y/n went beyond friendship was a day he would never forget. his girlfriend at the time had just broke up with him. he asked to meet up with her at the nearby park and told her the truth of how he really felt.

“i really do like you i do.. but i don’t know if they’re romantic”

sure he could’ve probably phrased his sentence a lot better but i mean he was fourteen. she kept urging him to kiss her but he refused - saying he didn’t feel as if he should be kissing someone that he didn’t really care for. again - could’ve phrased things a lot better.

so there he was, sitting on the swing alone after his now ex girlfriend slapped him in the face and stormed off. it was a warm day in july and the sun was slowly setting behind him. he was lost in thought, he didn’t know what romantic feelings really felt like. i mean that was his first girlfriend how was he supposed to know?  

he didn’t snap out of his thoughts until he heard someone sitting on the swing next to him. he lifts up his head slowly and meets eyes with y/n who softly smiled back at him, gently swung her legs back and forth as she sat next to him.

“whats got you all mopey? your girlfriend dump you or something?” she teases. but to her surprise eunwoo just solemnly nods and y/n feels her eyes widened. “she did. then she slapped me because i told her i wouldn’t kiss her.”

y/n stops her movements as she stares at eunwoo - her mouth agape. “what?! what happened! i thought things were going well with you two! you said you liked her!” eunwoo nods again and turns to look in front of him. “i did… she was really nice but i think she only liked me for my looks and not really for my personality. in all honesty i only went out with her because jungkook and yugyeom kept teasing me for not accepting any of my confessions”

eunwoo looks down. he wasn’t sure why but the thought of people only liking him for his looks hurt. he only accepted the confession because he kinda liked her - he thinks. he wasn’t sure how to define liking someone.

“i told her i wanted to kiss someone that was special to me. she took a lot of offense to that.” he adds on with a nervous laugh. he rubs the back of his neck and looks up to see y/n with an angry expression on her face.

“she shouldn’t be pressuring you like that! and only liking you for your looks?! thats so shallow! she should like you because of how nice and funny you are! and how cool but lame you can be. you have so many good qualities other than your face dongmin!” y/n huffs. he feels his eyes widen and watch as crosses her arms. eunwoo sits in shock for a moment before bursting out laughing.

y/n gives him a look of confusion as he covers his mouth to try and stop laughing. “did i - did i say something funny?” she asks to which eunwoo just shakes his head. “no it’s just - you’re getting so worked up on behalf of me and-”

“well that’s because i care about you!” she interrupts, causing eunwoo’s laughter to come to a halt. “i’m not just gonna let someone slap you for not liking them back and only being interested in your looks when theres so many good things about you!” and eunwoo hoped that she wasn’t able to see how red his face was right now. the shocked expression on his face slowly morphs into a soft smile though.

“thank you y/n. i honestly was thinking about kissing her though just so i could get it over with… that does seem a bit shallow of me so i wanted to tell her how i felt.” eunwoo confesses.

“are you dumb? even if it is your first kiss it shouldn’t be something forced!” she states and eunwoo nods at her statement.

“i know i know… i just… want to get my first kiss over you know? but i also want to do it with someone that i care about. i mean i just want to know what it’s like okay! i’m curious thats all.” he admits and its quiet between the two of them for awhile. the air began to feel a bit stuffy as if there were words being unspoken. it wasn’t until y/n spoke up that the silence was finally broken.

“do you really want your first kiss that bad?” she quietly asks, staring at her feet beneath her. eunwoo looks up at the question, almost not hearing her. before he can even answer - y/n takes in a deep breath before looking up to meet his eyes “kiss me then!”

eunwoo feels his heart stop at her words. his face felt as if he was burning. y/n’s face filled with embarrassment and she covered her face with her hands “or don’t! just act as if i didn’t say anything!”

“huh?” was all eunwoo could muster up. his brain stopping as he basically malfunctions.

“you said you wanted your first kiss really badly and wanted to do it with someone you cared about and i care about you and you care about me and we’re both friends and its just a kiss and-”

“okay”

“..huh?”

“okay. i’ll kiss you.”

y/n peeks through her fingers and tries to see if he was lying. slowly removing her hands from her face. she gulps and nods nervously. “okay then. but we’re just doing this as friends okay!” eunwoo nods in agreement - his heart picking up his pace. was this what it felt like to genuinely like someone?

y/n closes her eyes and eunwoo couldn’t help but be in awe at the way the sunset looked from behind her. it formed her outline perfectly and he couldn’t help but feel his hands start to sweat. no one ever making him feel this way before. he also closes his eyes and leans in from the swing that he sat on.

the kiss was short and chaste. but it still made eunwoo’s heart feel as if it would burst at that moment. was this the feeling he was looking for? was this what it felt like to be in love? he always knew that he cared for y/n, but never realized that it was the different type of care that he had for her than from the rest of his friends.

once the two of them pulled away, they both opened their eyes simultaneously. eunwoo froze from where he sat, unable to look away from her. all he knew was that this was a moment that would never leave his mind as the days go by.

y/n covers her face once again, turning to look away from him. she stands up quickly and turns back towards him with an embarrassed look on her face “if you tell anyone about this you’re dead!” she threatens running off. all eunwoo could do was nod dumbly as he tried to calm his racing heart.

it was then that he realized that he’s probably always felt this way for y/n. since the very first day that they met, he always wanted her to smile at him. the feeling that he gets when the two of them together is a feeling reserved only for her. he never thought about it before nor did he ever realized - but was this the feeling of love?

eunwoo couldn’t have asked for a more memorable first kiss.

moments of love masterlist

#what is love? au #cha eunwoo #eunwoo x reader #dongmin x reader #eunwoo imagine #lee dongmin #eunwoo #astro imagines #astro scenarios

[soulwillower]

crush culture • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested: fic where Richie and reader have been best friends since kindergarten, and have always had feelings for eachother secretly, until one day richie gets a girlfriend (just to take his mind off her), and the reader gets jealous and distances herself from him? he obviously gets upset by this- and things go on from there? sorry if it’s too specific! love u!

warnings: swearing, brief mentions of death, fighting, mentions of an abusive relationship, intentionally pissing off richie, a bit of angst, richie is an oblivious idiot, but reader is MUCH more of an idiot, like dude lmao, but i think that’s it, unedited tho

this isn’t rly based off crush culture, but i took the title from conan gray’s song :)  

[losers + reader are 18+ in this!!!]

3.8k words L O L :))

♡

you swear to god, you’re getting sick. that’s what this was, for sure.

it started about a month ago, when you started to get headaches and terrible hollow feelings in your stomach. it happened everywhere - in the line for coffee, in class, driving home from school, at the dinner table. but it got a hundred times worse at night and then seemed to triple in force every morning when you woke.

and it all came at you some time after richie announced he had a new girlfriend.

you were really sick the few days after that, enough that you stayed home from school and laid in bed, the pit in your stomach sinking. it didnt take long for you to realize how bad richie’s girlfriend was - she treated him like a dog, like he embarrassed her - and he didn’t even seem to mind. he just brushed off every offhand comment, rolled his eyes with a grin when she told him she didn’t want to see his friends or when she told him to stop talking. 

he still seemed to like her, anyways. and that thought made your stomach convulse.

so then you had to distance yourself from richie because it hurt you to see him with her. it hurt you to see him with someone who didn’t treat him like the incredible person he was. 

so yeah.

you say you’re sick, but you know that’s not really true. it’s easier than accepting reality at this point, though, so you spew this nonsense (to yourself, mostly) in order to justify ignoring your best friend of nearly a decade because christ, he is becoming unbearable.

like the other day, at lunch while you were all sitting in the courtyard. it was your first time eating with them again after almost a week and a half, as you’d been eating alone in your car recently to avoid richie. “rich, why’d you take off the nail polish?” bev asked, out of the blue, sounding disappointed as she grabbed his free hand and examined it.

he blew smoke out of his mouth slowly and you had forced yourself to look away, the sight of richie doing nearly anything these days being pretty dangerous for you. it also made you sigh a bit - you knew he only smoked at lunch now, since his girlfriend hated it.

“don’t want my paws to be prettier than y/n’s when we hold hands.” he had joked, wagging an eyebrow at you. you’d shook your head and looked to the ground in lew of a real response, just as you had been doing a lot recently.

you'd missed richie’s frown at your reaction, but you did catch his next statement as it was added on, “nah, actually it’s because the ol’ G-F didn’t like it. thought it looked too girly.”

you, stan, bev, and mike all stopped chewing to look at richie, in varying stages of bewilderment. you'd cleared your throat quickly but decided against speaking up just as richie’s phone started to ring. he’d answered it nearly immediately, the enthusiasm of which made you feel like you’re going to be sick again - because richie never answers your calls until the last possible minute.

god, jealousy is a fucking disease.

“hey, sugar.” he had purred suavely into the phone and for some reason, hearing him call someone else sugar had you abruptly rising, gathering your things and nearly running off to put as much distance between you and four-eyes as you possibly could, because you’re not sure how much more you could take.

after that, you were absolutely sure it was just pure denial on your part.

as far as you could tell, richie wasn't noticing too much. he still phoned your house every day, just to be met with your mother telling him you 'weren't available,' and then he'd call your own phone, which you'd let buzz itself into a dark hole on your bedside table while you stared at it solemnly, guilt heavy on your mind as he left voicemail after voicemail. 

he doesn't deserve it, you think as you open the doors to the school library, backpack on your shoulders. but you can't help it. you're not his girlfriend, and you're not mature enough to accept that with any ounce of elegance so instead you just ignore him all together. at least you're self-aware, right? that ought to count for something.

you shake your head just as a voice catches your attention, “well look who decided to show up!”

richie's sitting at the usual study table in the very back corner of the library, a spot tucked away by rows upon rows of dusty books and an alcove of couches. bill sits at the head of the table, scribbling his chicken scratch handwriting onto graph paper, mike next to richie with a textbook spread out flat. across from mike is stan, writing out his statistics work. 

all three of them wave at you before going back to their work, whereas richie just watches you expectantly. his feet are kicked up on the table, textbook balanced on his lap as he hovers on two leg chairs. his smile is as blinding as always, a dimple faint on his left cheek and full eyebrows raised in jest. his curls frame his face perfectly and you want to scream.

but you take your seat next to stan with a tight lipped smile, not really sure how to respond to richie. are you even allowed to be flirty with him like you used to? he still does it on the rare occasions when you do see each other - but that itself is the issue, you figure. his flirting is just a joke, a tiff from one friend to another. but you can't see him as just a friend, and that’s unfair to him.

so you stay quiet, which makes it infinitely more awkward.

richie clears his throat and you pull out your work with an awkward expression, the minutes slowly churning by in what has to be the quietest hangout with the Losers yet.

you feel the tension building in your body and in the air, and you're not sure what's wrong with you or why you have so much resentment towards richie in this moment, because he's not done one single thing to offend anyone in the last ten minutes.

then richie's phone rings suddenly and mike jumps a bit as he's startled out of the passage he's reading. you all look down to richie's screen, where his girlfriend's name blares up at you and all you can feel is white hot jealousy coursing through your body.

richie looks half way exhausted and annoyed at the call, which you find extremely odd and out of character, not to mention persistently frustrating.

as you all stare at the phone, the tension in the room stretches tighter and tighter, like a rubber band and you can't breathe -

"uh, why is she calling you?" mike asks, as if this was something that was forbidden or shocking in any way, and for some reason, that is finally it.

the rubber band snaps.

"how could you forget, mike? they're in love!" you say with mock enthusiasm. 

bill shoots you an alarmed look that you probably should read into or at least consider for a moment, but instead you're looking directly at richie, as if challenging him.

he blinks at you and clenches his jaw, "she and i haven't really been... talking recently." richie says lightly, shooting a glance to mike.

“well then maybe you’re just not right for each other.” you quip, the blood boiling in your veins. richie's eyes snap to you and you see the fire behind them as he suddenly breaks.

“sorry, did i miss the divine intervention when god floated down on a cloud of marshmallows and deemed you expert in relationships?” he says abruptly, making your eyes widen at his outburst. he continues, “because last time i checked, you’re a bit of a failure in that department. so i don't need some jealous, disappearing-act wannabe criticizing my life when she's barely even in it.” he seethes. it’s near quiet in the library anyways, but his words seem to silence the entire town.

with a quick glance to your right, stan and bill sharing an uncomfortable look, and mike is staring down intently at his work with wide eyes.

you want to die.

does richie know? has he known this whole time that you're just deeply, painfully head over heels for him? 

"i'm so sick of your bullshit. maybe you're jealous because you want what i had, but you’re being really fucking rude."

you nearly cry. or scream.

“criticism doesnt equal jealousy, okay?” you spit without thinking, immediately regretting even opening your mouth. you're so intent on covering for yourself, you don't even take into account the phrasing he'd used when referring to his girlfriend, instead fighting with richie in order to keep your secret from him.  

this is not how you’d intended today to go. he stares at you, eyebrows furrowed in a way that almost makes you keel over in sadness, the guilt of the situation falling too heavily on your shoulders and crushing you.

it’s tranquilizing to see him like this -  he's fuming, but he's also got bright, glistening eyes which you think may be filling up with tears.

“i didn’t really ask for your input, though.” he mutters, cheeks reddening as tears definitely well in his eyes behind his lenses. “you can’t just ignore me at your every whim just to come right back and tell me what's good for me.”

you blink, shaking your head quickly, deciding to back off. now is not the time to fight, especially when you know he’s right. you had no idea it was hurting him like this. "richie, i... i just wanted-" you gape at him, extremely embarrassed.

“-i don’t fucking care what you wanted, y/n.” richie says sharply, causing you to shut your mouth so quick your jaw clicks in the silence. clearly, even the other boys are perturbed by richie’s actions and everyone’s staring down in silence at their homework.

it’s quiet like that for a few minutes, the tension so thick that you’d need a jackhammer just to chip away at it. but stan rummages through his bag suddenly, pulling out two painkillers and dry swallowing them. you don't look at anyone else, your stomach hollow and your heart thumping so hard in your chest you think you may explode.

"d-do you have a headache?" bill asks, looking at stan with concern. the sudden voice causes you to perk up, head flowing with humiliation at the fight you and richie had just had in front of your friends.

“yeah, but it’s not that bad. i guess i’m used to it.” stan says, pen between his teeth.

“just because you’re used to something doesn’t make it any less unhealthy for you.” you say louder than necessary, your mouth suddenly deciding to speak without consulting your brain. 

the glare of pure frustration that richie throws you pierces your lungs and suddenly makes you feel lightheaded. 

your pettiness doesn’t go unresponsive, of course, and mike sighs into his hands, standing up to gather his things. "alright. i can't study when you two are like this. i'll see you guys later."

richie sighs quietly and bill and stan mumble good-bye's. the library goes back to quiet for maybe three more minutes, until you see stanley start to fidget like he usually does when he's anxious. and then you notice it after a few seconds, too.

richie won't stop tapping his foot on the desk.

for everyone's sake, you try to ignore it, because you know richie can't help his compulsions - especially when he's upset (which, your mind painfully reminds you, is all your fault).

but it's driving you crazy.

“-if you keep doing that i’ll throw you out that fucking window rich, i swear.” stan mutters not unkindly, his eyes rolling to meet richie with a concerned gaze as richie stares out the window.

you raise your eyebrows, “what’re you even looking at?” you ask, trying to mend a bit of the open, festering wound you’d created in you and richie’s friendship.

without looking at you, richie shrugs. “checking to see how high the drop is. may be worth it to have schnoz just toss me down. it would certainly do you a favor right? gettin ol’ trashmouth gone for good.”

what was he saying? you look at him, scandalized. stan and bill don’t even say anything about the offensive nickname as you gape at richie. "what the fuck?" is all your brilliant mind can think.

"what, you can dish it but you can't take it?" richie says sharply. he shakes his head, looking upset. "i'm tired of trying to be friends with a fucking brick wall."

then he's gathering his one notebook and swiftly exiting your alcove in the library in a wind of cigarettes and cologne. 

you blink, his words sinking in and making you sigh shakily. your stomach feels hollow as you remember the expression of glee on his face when you'd walked into the library, and how completely different and broken he'd looked as he'd left. you think you're going to cry.

“every minute that you don't follow him digs yourself deeper into this grave, you know.” stan says, giving you a stern but encouraging look.

you let out a shaky sigh and scramble to grab your bag, tripping over your feet as you run out of the library, flying down the staircase faster than you've ever gone and making it to your lifelong best friend just as he reaches his car in the parking lot.

"-a brick wall?" you ask, out of breath. you see richie hold back an eye roll, his arms crossing over each other as he serves you a look of discomposure.

he shrugs helplessly, looking as if he's at his wit's end.

"what do you want me to say, y/n? you've been avoiding me for weeks. i know i'm annoying and obnoxious and whatever, but i'm not blind." he says, making you swallow as guilt pangs through your chest. you have been so fucking selfish, haven't you?

it hurts to hear him say that about himself. 

he sniffles a bit, sounding choked up as he goes on, "i've had a rough couple of days - weeks, even. but every time i'm near, it's like you've had more than enough, and you just leave. am i that repulsive? why do you suddenly hate me?" he asks, looking desperate as his eyes rim red, filling with tears again.

“what did i do?” his voice cracks as he whispers the sentence and your heart breaks in two.

your own vision goes glassy as he continues, "-i've needed you, y/n/n. i'm lost, i'm seriously not okay and you just don't care at all."

you're stunned for a moment, mouth opening and closing silently as your mind races to rush something out, anything,because you aren't sure you can bear to see richie look at you like this for one more second. but your silence comes off wrong to richie, and tears slip out of his eyes.

“don’t you love me?” he asks, voice hoarse and cutting right through you, deeper than any knife ever could. "don't you want me to be happy?" he adds and you take a shaky breath, looking helplessly at him, where you're met with nothing but glassy eyes and tear trails. your heart is slamming in your chest, tears falling from your eyes and you can't breathe.

"a-are you?" you ask, trying to keep your tone even although it comes out just as vulnerable as you feel. “h-happy. with her?”

richie freezes at your words, mouth slightly open and you watch a single tear course over his high cheekbones and down to his bottom lip as it shakes faintly. you curse yourself for the longing to feel those very lips against yours.

"i was." he whispers, voice shaking as he rubs his face with his hand under his glasses, the moisture of his fallen tears clinging from his long dark lashes onto his slender, shaking fingers. "and then - and then i lost you. and y'know, i got my girlfriend so i could distract myself, but she made me feel like absolute shit all the time and so i went and broke up with her, but -" he hiccups through his tears and you blink, biting your lip as tears cascade down your cheek in wet trails.

they broke up?

he broke up with her, and he's going through this breakup and trying to better himself after she tore him down and you've just been ignoring him - he thinks you don't care about him, that you don't love him. you start to cry harder. 

"-i thought she'd distract me from you. i-i'm sorry." he says, his voice muffled by his hands as they cover up his angelic face, his shoulders shaking as more tears fall. "i'm so sorry."he repeats. 

you see double for a second, completely shocked by his words as the breath leaves your lungs. he tried to distract himself from you... and he’s so hurt because of what you did. 

but finally, for the first time this whole damn day, you find the right words. "i-no, richie, i'm sorry, please - fuck." you break, letting out a sob as you rub your eyes furiously in search of any relief from the guilt ripping you in two. "i didn't mean to hurt you. i'm so sorry, i can't believe i did this, i didn't want to hurt you, i'm just so selfish." you babble, his sniffles making you open your eyes.

he looks so alone and so vulnerable as he hugs his arms around himself in search of comfort, tears still falling from his bright eyes and down his rosy cheeks. 

he looks devastatingly beautiful in the golden sunlight of the afternoon, a breeze ruffling his curls lightly. "just please, i can't - i can't deal with you hating me. please, please, please."

he's pleading with you and you think you may be sick from the guilt and sadness that envelopes you, so you spring forward and wrap your arms tightly around him. the force of your body pushes him against the side of his car and the way he clings back to you like you're the last thing holding him to earth just makes you cry even harder.

"i don't hate you, richie. i love you, i love you too much." you say, your body shaking as he just holds you tighter against him. "i'm so sorry, i didn't mean any of it. you're right. i was just jealous... i'm so sorry. i was so jealous of her, i couldn't see you be with her." you mumble. "i'm so sorry."

richie pulls you back gently at your words, his eyes wide and wondering as you look at each other. "what?" he asks so innocently, his eyelashes wet and dark and his lips parted. 

you can count the freckles on his nose and cheeks, you're so close. you can feel his shuddering breath against your face as he huffs in a breath. your hands hold onto his shoulders and you decide to fuck it, you just have to tell him how sorry you are, to explain yourself.

"richie, i'm in love with you. and - and when you and her got together, it hurt so much, and i didn't want to deal with the fact that i couldn't have you, so i just ignored you. i’m sorry, i’m so sorry." you say it quickly and in one breath, looking down at your shoes and how they point straight towards his.

"you're in... love with me?" he says weakly, sounding hopeful as you finally look back into his eyes guiltily. 

you laugh wetly, "of course i am, richie. how could i not fall head over heels for everything about you?"

he tears up again at your words, but this time it's accompanied by a beautiful smile and a light, wet laugh. he shakes his head, his arms circling your waist tighter as he presses his forehead against yours. your butterflies tickle your stomach at your proximity.

"fuck, y/n. i can't believe i spend my time trying to get my mind off you." he says and your breath hitches a bit. "do you have any idea how long i've been in love with you?" he asks quietly, and you let out another small laugh out of shock, but it's wet and gleeful.

"i'm sorry." you whisper, your finger curling around a strand of the dark hair on his head. he shakes his head, your noses rubbing slightly. "it's okay, y/n. i love you so much. please let me forgive you." he says, pulling a smile out of you that you don't think anybody else ever could. you nod shortly, looking into his eyes as one last tear falls. 

he kisses you tenderly then, taking your breath away.

richie fills up your every sense as he clings to you desperately, his lips salty from your combined tears and his arms strong. his tongue is gentle as it runs along your lips and enters your parted mouth, one of his hands sliding up to tilt your head up towards him. you're breathless because of him for the millionth time in your life and you decide kissing richie is the only thing you want to do forever. 

you pull away slowly, and as you lean back he presses a chaste second kiss to your lips, causing you to grin. 

you barely make eye contact as you pull apart and then you greedily pull him back to you, his lips finding yours yet again with a sweet, loving laugh.

"i love you too, rich." you mumble against his lips. he sighs almost dreamily as you pull back, biting your lip and laughing when he opens the passenger door, gesturing to it with a shy grin.

"now can i please buy you a burger?" he asks, almost bashfully, and your heart does somersaults. you nod and kiss him again, his hand falling to the small of your back, palm wide and fingers lower than you'd expected. he pulls away and his grin is loving, his eyes hooded in pride as you caress his cheek softly before you slide into the car seat.

he holds your hand the whole night and refuses to let go until you slip through your front door at near midnight, blushes on both of your cheeks and lips kiss-bruised.

the butterflies you feel as you fall asleep with a grin on your face are the exact same ones richie feels as his head finally hits the pillow, a giddy smile on his own face as he smiles to himself in the dark halfway across town.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @simplesammyx@brxken-heartsclub @clownsloveyou @baby-yoda-a @moon-shine-baby  @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @finnskindofwoman @kait-tozier   @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s  @leighjaenikhowell @cowbellies @deepestofwaters

#richie tozier x reader #requests #losers x reader #losers club x reader #bill denbrough x reader #mike hanlon x reader #ben hanscom x reader #beverly marsh x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #stanley uris x reader

[derireo]

river flows in you / homare x izumi

honestly? i play this song when i'm in need of a good cry. this fic won't be angsty, but i feel like homare would chill to this piece, hence the title lmao.

homare x izumi

「 Read on AO3 」 「 2.6k words 」

"Hey, I think you should go to bed." Izumi poked at Homare's shoulder. It was probably around midnight when she noticed that the man was still out in the courtyard doing whatever he does best, so absorbed in his work as he scribbled lines and lines of elegant handwriting into his notebook. The moon was out, shining upon the both of them as the stars twinkled, dancing in the night sky.

Homare paused in his writing when his concentration was broken by Izumi, and he sighed, reluctantly leaning back in the chair he was sitting in to rest his stiff body. His pen lay askew atop his notebook, and Izumi suddenly had the urge to straighten it.

Taking out the other chair that was beside Homare, Izumi seated herself. The poet didn't seem to be in the mood to talk, which was very uncharacteristic of him, and the director wasn't sure what it was that was bugging him. She tucked her legs up on the chair and rest her chin atop her knees while giving him a sidelong glance, her body facing the direction of where the sky shone above them.

"The night sky is quite beautiful, don't you think?" He pondered aloud with his fingers pinching his chin. The expression on his face did not change, but he looked like he was enjoying himself, which was a relief. Izumi turned her head and rested her cheek on her knees, instead staring at Homare who was still smiling up at the moon. He still wore his day clothes, and looked lovely under the beaming of the stars; Izumi did not want to look away.

She did not look away even when Homare's gaze broke from the sky to stare at her in curiosity; not knowing why she was staying so silent. She then smiled at him when his eyes landed on her face, and the gentle expression she wore flustered him. Homare turned his head away for a second to quickly recollect his thoughts, his hands coming down to awkwardly pat his thighs as he waited a few seconds to find the words he wanted to say.

"I.. thought enjoying the fresh air would help me with my writing." He answered the question that Izumi did not ask, but she appreciated it nonetheless.

Plus, Homare felt like he had to explain himself.

"I understand." She laughed faintly. On multiple occasions Izumi had gone out to the courtyard alone to enjoy the breeze the night had to offer, but was scolded thrice by Sakyo, Omi, and Tasuku when she fell ill one day after a short stroll around the dorm. She was only able to come out tonight because Omi was worried that Homare had not come in yet, and she offered to coax him back inside. Sakyo gave her his permission, and here she was now.

The moonlight subdued Homare's eccentric behaviour as much as it could, and it had her gazing at him with blatant affection.

The man fidgeted under her watchful gaze.

"I am having a bit of trouble articulating my thoughts into words right now," he sighed bashfully, "I might be experiencing this thing Tsuzuru calls 'writer's block'."

Homare's smile was sheepish as he used the words that he had overheard the university student slur on about during breakfast one morning, but Izumi didn't seem to mind. She continued to look at him with interest, but her lashes fluttered; indicating that she was getting tired.

Slightly panicked that he was boring her, Homare said whatever else that came to his mind that would keep her attention on him. And keep her attention on him he did.

"Would you care to rest in my arms tonight?" He said, tender; tentative. "It may give me the inspiration to write a few more lines."

Her eyes were wide open now and he fidgeted under the stare. Normally, Homare would be able to say this kind of thing with ease, but with how Izumi looked at him tonight made him feel warm and embarrassed, and he couldn't help but stutter over his next set of words.

"Nevermind.. It was rude of me to ask and put you on the spot." He chuckled softly and rubbed the back of his neck with cold fingers, eyes closing in humiliation. He couldn't bear to see the woman in his sights without blushing an even darker shade and his breath was getting uneven with how nervous he was feeling. He blamed the moon for making him feel this way in front of his precious director, and his knee bounced anxiously while waiting for an answer.

The bouncing knee jerked violently when a light hand brushed over it, and Homare recoiled at the touch. His red eyes flashed to look at what had touched him and was shocked to see an equally as startled Izumi smiling in slight confusion.

"Are you alright, Homare?" She asked, innocent. Her smile was still kind as she approached him with cautious movements, until she was scooted to the end of her chair and her warm hands were resting on the leg that wouldn't stop bouncing. She was kind as she tapped her fingers against his knee to help him calm the nerves that were fraying, and relaxed her shoulders when he did the same. Slowly, she reached out, fingers lightly brushing away the creases that formed in his suit jacket with an amused tilt to her lips. "You seem.. restless. I think we ought to bring you inside now."

Just by an inch, Homare slumped in his chair, causing Izumi to muffle her sputter of laughter behind a small hand.

"Sorry, I meant no harm. I was joking." It was endearingly funny to see this uncharacteristic side of Homare, but Izumi understood how important writing was to him, and she didn't really mind indulging him in his small request for inspiration. His red eyes glanced at her unsure, and he cleared his throat with a faint harrumph. She was inching near him with every second that passed and he was getting even more nervous than before; he had no clue what she was going to do next.

He was about to say no and don't, but Izumi had always been so difficult to decline when she smiled at him that way, and as she slipped off her chair to stand in front of him, head tilted, the words died in his throat.

"Do you have a preference?" She asked, innocent. Despite her back now facing the sky, her eyes were still glimmering and the sight caused Homare's lungs to deflate as all the air escaped him in one large breath. His hands were gripping on the armrests of the iron chair he was sitting on while trying to regain his composure, steadily regaining a clear mind.

"Ah.. Yes. Indeed, I do. Here." With calculated movements, Homare scooted himself near the end of his seat and brushed off the imaginary dirty that was on his pants. After that, one of his hands was facing palm side up while his arm lifted to ghost over Izumi's waist, slowly leading her around the side of his chair to bring the young woman towards the space on his lap.

Easing herself onto Homare's legs was fun to say the least, as she pretended she had no idea how he wanted to position herself. Playfully, she decided to plop onto his lap, facing him. Her legs were draped on either side of his hips and were swinging back and forth in a childish manner while her arms hung over his shoulders, the position she put the both of them in causing a blush to rise to his cheeks.

"This okay?" She sang faintly. Her arms were wound around Homare's neck, resulting in both of them nearly being chest-to-chest. The older man held his hands up in shock due to the close proximity, barely ghosting over her waist as he tried to lean away from her so that their breaths wouldn't be mingling with each other. He was so tense beneath her touch that Izumi felt a bad for being so mean, and with a laugh, lifted a hand up to caress Homare's warm face.

"I shouldn't have teased you; it wasn't very nice of me." She apologised, but the smile still remained. Before Homare was able to react and tell her that it was alright, she had already moved around until she was sitting in the way he had originally planned to have her, sitting perpendicular to him with her cheek pressed to the space between his neck and shoulder and the tip of her nose just barely brushing against his jaw.

And for some reason, this position made Homare feel even more embarrassed. Was it because Izumi could stare at him this way instead of hooking her chin on his shoulder to stare into the distance? Or the way she curled up so adorably small against his chest? Or was it because, if given the opportunity and the permission, she'd be able to rest her head in the slope of his neck?

He felt like he was going to lose his mind if he kept thinking about the different things that could happen, and for a long moment, he forgot that there was a poem waiting to be finished.

But could anyone really blame him when Izumi was right there? Could you blame him for brushing his fingers through her soft hair? Could you blame him for wanting to pull her closer to his chest and just whisper the sweetest of words in her ear, just to listen to the laugh that always managed to make his heart beat a little faster?

Homare was very close to risking it all for this woman and it terrified him.

"You're warm.." She sighed suddenly, causing Homare to snap out of his dazed stupor as she fiddled around to wrap his suit coat around her body to keep the breeze from attacking her. Izumi was sure she'd have to go through another lecture if she found herself sick the next day, so Homare was going to have to be her knight in shining armour.

Lips pressed into a thin line, the poet stared at his lone notebook for a few seconds before deciding that maybe it was time to end the night. He let his eyes rest for a brief second as his reluctant arms came to rest around Izumi's frame, pulling her impossibly closer to him to keep her warm while finally tucked her head into the crook of his neck, a little yawn escaping her tired body.

"Shall we go back inside?" He whispered gently, making sure not to rouse her too much.

Izumi frowned at the mention of returning to the dorm when Homare had barely made any progress with his work, but didn't say anything. Her lashes lightly brushed against his skin when she closed her eyes and she let out a second sigh to let the man know that she didn't mind either way.

"I'm sure the others are worrying about you right now," he chuckled, resting his cheek atop her head while a hand cradled the back of her neck, the other already beginning to gather up the materials that lay forgotten on the table, "I wouldn't want to get in trouble with Sakyo of all people."

"Omi and Tasuku are quite terrifying as well." Izumi tacked on; not very helpfully, and melted into Homare's chest when his arm went down to curl around her waist. "Though I'm sure they'll stay quiet when they see me sleeping in your arms."

Homare didn't answer, but he and Izumi both knew that the overprotective men always tended to not say anything whenever they caught her dozing away. It wouldn't be such a big deal if he brought her in while she was taking a snooze, right? He took care of her, and she managed to bring him back inside. Win win.

"Alright," he sighed, "ready for what's to come?"

A lazy thumbs up was thrown his way and he braced himself, setting his small notebook and pen in his suit pocket before standing up from his chair, Izumi comfortably resting against his chest. As he began to exit the courtyard with the young woman settled in his arms, he mustered up the courage to print a small kiss to the crown of her forehead just before he re-entered the dorm, carefully toeing off his shoes to replace them with slippers.

He bent down next to remove the large sandals that she slipped on before looking for Homare and also replaced them with slippers, the sound of him dropping the footwear quiet as he put them on the shoe rock. He was a bit exasperated that she didn't even wear her own slip on shoes; noticing that she was actually wearing Juza's footwear that made her clothed feet look even tinier.

"It's late." A sudden voice came from above, causing the poet's head to snap up to see Sakyo standing at the top of the staircase with his arms crossed over his chest. His face held no emotion, but Homare was still able to see the scrutinising look in his eyes as he made the move to stand up and carry Izumi up the stairs.

His smile was bashful when he tilted his head in the direction of Izumi in his arms, making sure that Sakyo knew that she was 'sleeping' and that it was best if he didn't scold him for now. The blond's shoulders relaxed just the slightest bit when he saw the peaceful look on the woman's face and sighed in resignation, running a hand down his face with a wave of his hand to dismiss Homare.

Both Tasuku and Omi were in the kitchen when Homare turned his head, and the man with the scar on his chin pointed down at the warm plate of food that was waiting for him on the dinner table with a smile. His fellow troupe member also made the move to approach him, and with careful movements, took Izumi from him with a reprimanding look, cradling the small woman to his chest as she sighed at the sudden change of cuddle buddies.

He smiled in defeat, but still managed to whisper in Izumi's ear that he wished she would rest well before Tasuku quietly whisked her away to her bedroom.

"Having trouble writing again, Homare?" Omi greeted with an amused smile when the poet took a seat at the dinner table with a tired sigh, the man in question nodding his head as he began to dig in to the dinner that he had missed a few hours earlier. He missed the first few beats to the respond as the warmth of the food filled his stomach and he closed his eyes, nodding again instead of using his words.

"Hopefully you find the inspiration soon." The Autumn Troupe member wished sweetly and walked around the counter to slap Homare on the back, gently telling him that he didn't need to wash his dishes tonight and should just go to bed to get the sleep he was missing out on now. The poet choked slightly on his food at the force of the slap, but sent a thankful smile to Omi as he walked down the hallway to return to his bedroom; Sakyo seemingly already back in his own.

And as Homare leaned back in his chair with his spoon in his mouth, he remembered the feeling of Izumi laying in his arms, curled against his chest as if she were a little cat. He remembered how her hair felt like when he ran his fingers through it and how hard his heart was beating when she messed with him with that contagious smile of hers.

He sighed wistfully, but the affectionate shine to his eyes told a different story.

Homare definitely found his inspiration.

#homare arisugawa #tachibana izumi #a3! #a3! imagines #a3! act! addict! actors! #A3! Actor Training Game #a3! scenarios #a3! fluff #a3! homare #a3! izumi

[clumsyclifford]

baby driver tell me anything about it i am a slut for that fic

you cant just say this now i have to answer like all the questions for it dont i (no i dont but am i going to anyway? yes this is your fault for being vague anon you asked for this)

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way? watched the movie baby driver, thought it would be dope as a fic. the way the fic is written is actually cool in terms of formatting tho if you ask me and i really liked the idea of the song defining/being tonally relevant to the scene to show the way that music is so central to calum’s life and the way he interprets the world and relates to it so that’d be why. also the prologue is there to get in the gimmick of quoting movie lines, and the epilogue is there because after i finished the fic i realized there were more songs i wanted to use in it that i hadnt gotten a chance to LMAO

2: What scene did you first put down? the first scene! the fic was written almost entirely in order i believe except i wrote the prologue retroactively and then went back to add the lines in about halfway through

3: What’s your favorite line of narration? wow going back through this fic there’s really not a lot of narration kinda love that for me lol this is probably my favorite because i love the way it frames something calum loves in the context of something else calum loves like he wants to be able to enjoy michael’s smile in the same way that he can enjoy music so:

Michael smiles. His whole face lights up when he smiles. Calum wishes there was a song about that smile that he could listen to for the rest of his life.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue? theres honestly a lot of dialogue im very pleased with in this fic cant lie honorable mentions to the line about calum watching with subtitles because i think that shows a vulnerability of him that we dont see a lot of also the line “just because i’m quoting elton john doesn’t mean i don’t mean it” feels very telling of calum’s character BUT the line i am choosing is the following:

“We could leave this town and run forever,” Calum finally says. Michael looks over at him and his eyes are sparkling.

“We already are,” he says.

“I know. It’s kind of a sad song.”

“Not anymore.”

5: What part was hardest to write? oooh hmm probably the scene where calum finally gets out of the job/pays off his debt? because that was when the fic diverged from the movie plot so i was no longer stealing from the script anymore. close second to the moment right after they kiss when calum says they can run away though

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics? i just honestly? love the whole music thematic. i mean like i stole it from baby driver obviously but it was really fun to reframe it with pop punk songs (plus a couple others shoutout to loml why georgia) and then get a chance to try and write the tone of the scene around a song i don’t know man it was a cool writing exercise that i can never replicate idk how it exists

7: Where did the title come from? ocean avenue by yellowcard! song i discovered while in search of good pop punk songs for this fic (did a LOT of music research for it lol) and decided it’s a malum anthem if i ever heard one plus it gets mentioned twice in the fic so it felt appropriate to title it with that

8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it? i mean......baby driver, the movie halfjgdkjgjd

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic? nope!

10: Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story? i was probably just on a malum kick tbh in fact i bet this fic would work just as well for lashton i just uhh didn’t do it

11: What do you like best about this fic? how many ways can i talk about the scene/music themes before it gets annoying and pretentious? oh actually i have a different answer i really love the way calum parrots other people’s lines back to them like he borrows words from the TV and from songs and then he also borrows michael’s own words a couple times but THEN at the end michael borrows calum’s words (”I’m happy to know you”) and it just feels very poetic to me not to text analyze my own fic but khalkgjdfkja if you didnt notice that before i am shoving it in your face now

12: What do you like least about this fic? the uhh....i mean i stole it from the movie i actually think the fic’s more realistic on this count than the movie but the pacing’s kinda like....bad? like they literally knew each other two weeks, went on one and a half dates, and??? ran away with each other??? that’s why there’s that conversation in the epilogue where michael is like “we’re both crazy” like i just wanted the reader to know that i know that the pacing’s kinda wack but that’s just life

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading? how convenient that i actually made a playlist for this fic !!!! it’s actually a fantastic playlist, for the fic but also just in general? so here is the link yes i do recommend each and every song on this playlist wholeheartedly especially why georgia <3

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic? yes lily james was snubbed in baby driver

15: What did you learn from writing this fic? well i learned a lot of new pop punk music does that count

#anon doing this added ten years to my life thank you #everyone hates me on the dash tonight rip sorrynotsorry #i enjoy talking about my fic !!!! i do !!!! #i put a lotta work into em (sometimes. not spidey. but the others.) and it's nice to talk about !!!! #Anonymous #ask #answered

[vanaera]

For the Fanfiction Writer Asks ask meme!!! Because I still have lots to know about one of my favorite writers!! 1, 8, 17, 21, 22, 29, 33, and 47 (Angst Queen)! It's a lot but feel free to choose just the ones you want to!!

Omygod, thank you so much, hon! And sksksk!! I really love a lot of questions!

Here I go

1. How old were you when you first start writing fanfiction?

I think I was 17? I started kinda late into my writing journey bc most of my childhood and adolescence was spent making visual art. I thought it was my passion until I fell in love reading books to analyze BTS HYYH MVs being released. I've always loved books since I was a kid lmao I finished all the books in my elementary school's library and it was huge! (I got like 4 library cards stapled next to each other, completely filled out, every year). However, I only really appreciated how they are mad eand their influence on other's works when I get to study them close up to get BTS MVs (i'm so used to BTS hip and cool MVs since No More Dream and I was shook out of my mind when they suddenly changed things up in I NEED U ASDFGHJKL)

8. Where do you take inspiration from?

A million of films. I fell in love with screenwriting and now I'm learning a heck lot from it and from that, I appreciated film making more. Bc learning it had me learning different types of character arcs to try, how to structure subplots, or even come up with novel story structures that deviate from the 5 point Acts! I think I appreciated stories told in films more than in books now bc the writing was made to be precise to fit in a specific time frame. And I think if you could pull off such a wonderful story with real, effective characters within just 2 hours, you're one hell of a talented being. The films that continue to inspire my writings until now had to be Kill Bill, Fight Club, Plus One, and recently added, Parasite and Snowpiercer. (It's actually been ages since I read books. I don't have much time to read them these days bc I'm in uni and I can only have movies for now).

17. Post a line from a WIP that you're working on.

Hoseok shrugs, “Well, he has a point. We’re exercising our powers determining everyone’s future and dictating what consequence should they have. Indeed, only gods do that and we are no gods.”

- My Time

(I'm sorry this is like an additional teaser abxjkwk. But I'm on my mobile now and this is the only WIP I have. But that doesnt do much bc I prefer finishing one project first after another so yeah)

21. Tell me about athwr writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

I feel you already know this bc I've fangirled about him with you for so many times but F. Scott Fitzgerald. He writes beautifully crafted sentences that are also beautifully bruttally honest. His works always feel so raw and I just love the honesty in them. Another one is Chuck Palahniuk, the writer of Fight Club. I love how he manages to put so many of his philosophical stances in his story and yet syill have one cohesive theme. Not to say he makes a lot of mindfucking stories!

In the screenwriting field, Bong Joon Ho, hands down. I lobe his respect for the fundamental elements and techniques of screenwriting. It is often thought that doing the conventional is a negative connotation bc it is "restricting." When actually, they serve as a guide to wrote beautiful effective stories. And so I think Bong Joon Ho did a good job proving that doing the conventional way is also okay and in the end, you'll still get to make wonderful, impactful stories.

22. Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?

Hmmm, not that I posted here though. Even if I think I write better now than what I used to in 2018, I only fondly look back at them and appreciate how much they helped me grow in my writing journey. But hmm, I remember writing a real cringey shitty story when I was 16. Never got it online bc I only wrote it in pencil in some notebook. Real shitty bc it was highly inspired by the romantic tropes of Hollywood back in the day that I now think are very toxic. Never got to reread it tho bc I lost that notebook when we moved houses 2 years ago. I don't regret it tho. I don't really feel a great urge to rerwad it.

29. Do you have a story that you feel doesn't get as much love as you'd like?

I'll never let it go but Translucent Fireworks, my first official story here 2 years ago. It has 200+ notes and actually that's really big! However, there's not much feedback about it and that's kinda saddening bc I wrote so many beautiful lines there that to this day I still think, "how the fuck did I do that?" (Bc holy mother of fuck, 18 year old me made metaphors about cracking paint on ceilings and geometry and 20 year old me now is just: HoW?). I just wished more of my readers has appreciated it bc 'til this day, it remains as one of my proudest works.

33. What's the biggest compliment you've gotten?

Out of all the generous and kind words my hons has showered me ober the years, 2 remain that really hits my heart right on. One is when they say I'm their favorite writer (and guess what, you just said it to me rn *heart combusts boom boom pow pow* 😳🥺😭☺️😊😆🥰) Growing up, I found it hard to find friends I could trust on. And so, I made friends out of fictional characters and the writers who made them. Now as I write, I wish to be someone people who are like me who finds it hard to find someone to connect to, can find solace and comfort in my writings. Now the second one bears more weight to me. It's when my readers tell me they felt so many emotions. In such a harsh world we live in, it seems as just everyday seems to get worse as the years pass by. And bc of such exposure to misery and hopelessness, a lot has grown to be apathetic and find it hard now to find happiness in their lives. I want to make things a little bit better for everyone, and so I want them to just....feel. happiness, sadness, anger, frustration - a beautiful variety than just stagnant despair. I want more people to see there's still hope we can feel other than hopelessness in this world. So when I receive a compliment like this one, I feel I've already succceeded one of my major goals as a writer.

47. Here's a fic title - insert made up title. What would this story be about.

Okay, I LOVE THIS QUESTION.

Angst Queen. It will about a girl who loves reading and watching angsty stuff that her appreciation for this genre somehow got to affect her values. She now tends to expect that love should hurt for it to be real love bc people only gets to remember pain, not happiness, for joy doesn't bear a scar on the hearts. But in doing so, she tends to get in toxic relationships, or end up ruining a good one that's just about to start. When her bestfriend finally calls her out on it, she learns that maybe she's looking at life with black colored glasses. She decides to embark on a journey to grow out from it. She just didn't expect that the half of those black glasses had already started turning pink the moment her bestfriend told her he'll be by her side on this journey.

Ask me more questions here Fanfiction Writer Asks!

#what about aera #aera games #fanfiction writer asks #senfleurs #hey you pretty lady #how dare you make me squeal so much in the middlenof the fricking night!!!! #eye- #thank you so much for always being there to support me in these games i find #i love you so much #and im sorry i probably wrote some shitty summary for Angst Queen #my brain is fried right now and i was really disappointed about the reqs i had to do just for the sake of my excruciating honor-loving uni #aera blushes

[tespuco]

PotC Liveblog: Curse of the Black Pearl

CotBP is one of my ‘forever films’ for sure - every time I rewatch it I not only feel the same sense of wonder and delight as the first time but invariably discover new things to love and squee over as well. 

I would love to learn more about Elizabeth as a child: this lonely, solemn girl who feels something perverse in her thrill at pirate stories and gallows humor, yet who gravely takes on the duty of looking after young William Turner because she wants to be good, too. (@dollsome-does-tumblr‘s Elizabeth-centric, post-CotBP fic Shrouded Heart explores this ambivalence in her self-concept with heart-wrenching emotional realism)

Wow, Will was doomed from the start, wasn’t he? I would be too if I were a 12-year old piece of half-drowned human driftwood waking up to a miniature guardian angel who softly murmurs, “I’m watching over you” before I drift back into unconsciousness

Framing Elizabeth’s memory of seeing the Black Pearl and meeting Will as a dream, one that impels her to put on the medallion, suggests fate or some other supernatural influence at work - a nifty way for writers to sidestep accusations of Contrived Coincidences and call it Destiny instead!

Keira Knightley is so beautiful hELP

Awww, Will is so proud of his handiwork! It’s interesting because the film puts a fair amount of emphasis on it early on, his skill and pride in not just wielding swords but forging them - only to tell us later that he’s really a pirate by blood and at heart. I like it when fics like fried_flamingo & salr323′s At World’s End: Redux lean into Will’s identity as a blacksmith and extrapolate from it an affinity for land/earth/balance/creation as opposed to the sea’s wild potential for destruction. (He lost his father to the sea and to piracy; he never learned to love either.)

My god everyone’s layered in buttoned-up and corseted finery in the fucking TROPICS no wonder Elizabeth passed out (ngl despite the ‘Caribbean’ in the title and visiting the Disney ride in New Orleans Square, I remember stupidly assuming Port Royal was part of England, not Jamaica; at 9 yrs old my geography was shit and I had yet to learn what imperialism was ok)

“A ship with black sails that’s crewed by the damned and captained by a man so evil that hell itself spat him back out.”  shiver me timbers now that’s how you tell a ghost story

“If he were telling the truth, he wouldn’t have told us” has the same antimonious energy as Winnie-the-Pooh going, “Well, it’s a good thing I noticed it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have seen it”

This is definitely tmi but in retrospect the rescue scene played a formative part in my (bi)sexual awakening: for a long time my go-to pubescent fantasies involved near-drownings followed by hypersexualized resuscitation attempts and frantic uncomfortable sex on wet rocks in damp subterranean caves

Omg I just realized Elizabeth’s scene with Jack on the docks mirrors the one she had on deck Will in the flashback: a (wo)man overboard recovered, rescuer hovering over a supine body and fingering the pirate medallion around his/her neck, love at first sight

“One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness.” “Though it seems enough to condemn him.” Basically “no good deed goes unpunished” but with style

16 years later and the swordfight between Jack and Will holds up as an iconic example of swashbuckling fight choreo. I also love how the exchange establishes the Jack/Will dynamic: the former as a kind of ironic mentor (“Excellent form. But how’s your footwork?”), the latter as an unwilling pupil who nevertheless mostly plays along

“I practice with them three hours a day.” “You need to find yourself a girl, mate.” Raunchy Shakespearean-grade comedy at its finest (along with  “This sweet, proliferous bouquet that is Tortuga…What do you think?” “It’ll linger.”)

“This shot is not meant for you.” I love the hints we get of Jack’s darker side: he keeps his bitterness close and his grudges closer; for 10 years he saved that bullet for one man, refusing to expend it in any number of life-threatening situations in the interim; he drawls, “Worry about your own fortunes, gentlemen. The deepest circle of Hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers,” like a witch uttering a curse. A dishonest man, methinks, would not feel the stab of betrayal so deeply.

The running joke of Will not getting recognized for his skills and earnest efforts is what makes Norrington’s parting words to him at the end so satisfying: “This is a beautiful sword. I would expect the man who made it to show the same care and devotion in every aspect of his life.” (NORRINGTON KNEW IT WAS HIM ALONG BUT WAS TOO JEALOUS TO EVER PRAISE HIM TO HIS FACE that petty little shit lmao)

I remember looking up the definition of ‘acquiesce’ after watching CotBP as a kid, so Barbossa had a direct hand in expanding my 9-year old vocabulary.

Competent, hyper-focused!Jack at the wheel with an unholy gleam in his eye as he gets drenched in a torrential downpour is my kind of Byronic hero

I prefer Jack Sparrow’s backstory to remain a loose collection of rumors and half-truths jumbled together even in his own memory, but I DO want to know how Jack and Gibbs met, how the former earned the latter’s (mostly) steadfast loyalty. I want to eavesdrop on all the inebriated conversational musings they’ve shared over a bottle of rum, whether topside on the decks of a ship not the Pearl or shouted above/muttered below the ruckus of a Tortuga tavern.

I’d also read/watch a prequel about the mutiny. “He plays things closer to the vest now. And a hard-learned lesson it was.” WHO HURT YOU JACK

Well obviously Barbossa did, but I still have so many questions! How did a younger, more trusting Jack earn the ire of his first mate and crew, to the point where they’d stage a mutiny? Then again, to hear Gibbs tell it, Barbossa simply appealed to Jack’s sense of fairness; perhaps in their unadulterated greed they saw Jack’s honest streak as a vulnerability to exploit? Or was it something in Jack’s manner of captaincy that fomented discontent? Idk, I can’t tell based on the way the crew jeers at “Gents, you all remember Captain Jack Sparrow?” whether their antipathy smacks more of derision or vitriol.

“Mr. Gibbs? …Jack? Jack Sparrow?” Elizabeth must be SO confused by these blasts from her distant and more recent past: who knows when Gibbs left Norrington’s employ, but the last time she saw Jack he had her in chains and at gunpoint, and now apparently he’s conspiring with Will??

I’ve always been kind of baffled by the cabin scene between Elizabeth and Will. What is she apologizing for? Taking the medallion and not telling him? Or for telling him and making him realize his father was a pirate?

Also her tearful, “Because I was afraid that you were a pirate. That would have been awful” is the biggest, bald-faced lie if I’ve ever heard one. She took an interest in him BECAUSE she thought he was a pirate (although I do think young Elizabeth had been afraid FOR him, after Gibbs’ pantomime of the hangman’s noose)

“daft like Jack” should be my Jack/Elizabeth/Will OT3 tag

Ah, back when PotC incorporated visual gags to spice up their action sequences instead of building the equivalent of a Rube-Goldberg machine around a single, unfunny gag. Compare: Gibbs’ canteen making its unlikely way from the Interceptor to the Pearl and back as an accompaniment to the battle and Jack’s breakout from his cell VS the overextended Tortuga sequence in DMC where Jack weaves in and out of a brawl to no apparent purpose except to try on different hats and then exit the tavern.

“Though it does seem a shame to lose something so fine, don’t it? …So I’ll be having that dress back before you go.” Barbossa is despicable and Geoffrey Rush delivers his lines with such RELISH

I will squee over the island scene & its deleted segments at length in a separate post so for now I’ll just say: Elizabeth is obviously a huge Jack Sparrow stan and she’s doing a piss-poor job of hiding it

Listen it’s easy to overlook Norrington’s sense of duty and decency in the face of the stick up his butt and his bouts of extreme pettiness. But the fact is that Jack’s attempt to manipulate and appeal to his ambition fails. Because the Commodore is no Barbossa - he’s a fine man who serves others, not only himself; who cares whether a woman’s acceptance of his proposal is less than sincere; who wouldn’t have risked his men ambushing the Pearl’s crew had he known about the curse (last two courtesy of the deleted scenes on the Dauntless).

Now that I’m paying closer attention I’m just blown away by the careful consideration in Jack’s plans. He’s playing both sides to further his own goal of enacting revenge at minimal risk to himself, but he looks after the unwitting parties he involves in the process, too: while the Royal Navy occupies the undead pirates from the safety of their long range cannons, Jack can intervene to save Will, use him to break the curse, and kill Barbossa. All the good guys win! (He couldn’t have foreseen the Trojan Horse or the en masse submarine attack; nor Norrington’s pettiness in defying Jack’s instructions to man cannons that would’ve blown the undead into smithereens.)

Exhibit B: “Now, to be quite honest with you, there’s still a slight risk for those aboard the Dauntless, which includes the future Mrs. Commodore.” Disregard his insouciant delivery here, and you get Jack telling the whole, unvarnished truth!!! “What do you have to lose?” he asks Norrington, who brushes him off: “Nothing I’d lament being rid of.” It’s JACK who reminds him that for all their precautions, the ambush might put Elizabeth in danger. Jack knows about the curse, and after being marooned on an island with her, he knows Elizabeth will do whatever’s necessary to save Will. So he finds a way to ensure not only that she won’t interfere, but that she’ll be kept safe from harm!! I’ll never be over it

And Murtogg’s “You think he wasn’t telling the truth?” line is such a great callback to their early sketch as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern on the docks of Port Royal. These dimwits happen to know Jack does tell the truth, expecting no one to believe him. His own exhortations on the subject notwithstanding, Jack’s real trickery lies in rarely telling the whole truth, letting people make their own assumptions, and giving them enough rope by which to hang themselves.

Governor Swann is such a darling, the ultimate doting father. It’s easy to assume he doesn’t get Elizabeth at all, but he’s no idiot. He rightly suspects she only agreed to marry Norrington to save Will, and while he’s not above nudging her in that direction (“I believe you made a very good decision today. Couldn’t be more proud of you.”), he’s also not about to let his only daughter bargain away her happiness for the sake of his OTP. (And his face of exasperated affection at Jack’s hanging, when he realizes she only pretended to faint as a diversion! Notice the lack of surprise in his expression: that’s the face of a father who is all too used to her Pulling This Kind of Shit)

Jack keeps popping up like a bad penny and both Norrington and Barbossa are so appalled every time lol

The sequence where Will breaks the curse and Jack shoots Barbossa and Elizabeth jerks like she’s the one who was shot is just - *chef’s kiss* the CHOREOGRAPHY! the CAMERAWORK! the EDITING! 

“I feel…cold.” *a single apple rolls out of Barbossa’s dead hands* Can you believe a summer blockbuster movie invented poetic justice tell your English professors

“If all I have achieved here is that the hangman will earn two pairs of boots instead of one, so be it.” Ugh Will is sooo not my type but he’s so DASHING and GOOD no wonder Elizabeth covets him. What a hero

“My place is between you and Jack.” Ohhh you know what I would love to track the main characters’ alignment arcs throughout the series. Here Will’s situating himself as the Chaotic Good between Jack’s Chaotic Neutral and Norrington’s Lawful Good. But I would argue he’s still pretty Lawful and, even under Jack’s tutelage, only resorts to Chaos in extremis; meanwhile Jack flits between Chaotic Good and Chaotic Neutral; Elizabeth’s arc is similar except it’s unidirectional; and without the Law at his back Norrington spirals into Neutral Evil. 

It’s the Sparrabeth shipper in me but the last line of the movie is Jack singing a song that Elizabeth taught him. (*Cutler Beckett voice* “We’ve had dealings in the past. And we’ve each left our mark on the other.”) For a fic about what Jack leaves her, may I redirect you to Shrouded Heart by dollsome, linked above - and this brain dump comes full circle!

#this is already too long and it's...only the tip of the iceberg that is my potc feels #i've reserved my more effusive observations for illustrated commentary #stay tuned for comments & tag novels on edits i've found of my fave scenes #pirates of the caribbean #the long and short of the meta #t-recs

[roseymoseyberry]

Samsara (3/?)

Heyo, time for chapter 3, aka a little bit more insight into how I had to fill in the gaps in Breakdown’s backstory and the Stunticons in general, lmao.

Thanks again y’all for reading this wild ride and I hope you enjoy! And for folks who may not watch RID15, the race mentioned in this chapter is from the episode Disordered Personalities. You don’t really need to know much beyond the stunticons joined it hoping to cement their title as Rulers of the Road (because they’re literally written dumb enough as to believe winning a race would do that) and the Autobots went to stop them from destroying the other racers. So they lost and it’s implied that Motormaster pulled a Megatron and physically punished them for it.

Title: Samsara

Series: RID15 and TFP (and some tidbits grabbed from Aligned wiki pages)

Ship(s): Wildbreak/Knockout, Breakdown/Knockout

Tags/warnings: Reincarnation AU, hurt/comfort, verbal/physical abuse (though the worst of the physical abuse is barely described or off screen), past character death, age difference (but still consenting adult alien robots), a lot of filling in worldbuilding gaps and making shit up, and a lot of Wildbreak being a sweet boy who just needs some love and affection.

Fic Summary:

From the day he was forged, Wildbreak had felt like there was something missing; some motivation or drive or desire that had been left behind in the Allspark.

Something he should know but didn’t.

|Chapter 1|Chapter 2|Chapter 3|

“About time you woke up.”

Bumblebee’s frame jolted online as he sat up, staring wide-opticked up at where Knockout was leaned against a shelf of scrap metal and watching him.

“Knockout?! What’re you--?”

“I have a favor to ask,” Knockout stated.

“And it couldn’t wait?” Bumblebee grumbled as he moved to stand. He was going to have to have a talk with his team about warning him when they had company.

Knockout gave him an unimpressed look.

“You want help with your Stunticon problem, don’t you?”

Bumblebee’s arms stilled where he had stretched them over his helm, blinking at Knockout. “You decided to join the team after all?”

“Of course not. I told you, I’m not much of a team player these days when I can help it,” Knockout replied.

“Then…?”

“I’ve been spending some time with one of them.”

“You—wait, you’ve been doing what?!” Panicked, Bumblebee continued, “You’re not gonna join them, are you?”

With a snort, Knockout shook his head. “As much as I don’t want you ordering me around, the idea of Motormaster trying it is even worse. He’s a brute and a moron who only knows how to motivate with his fists. It’s no coincidence he had to remake his team by snatching up a bunch of new forged.”

That was all news to Bumblebee. He didn’t know about any Motormaster, let alone-- “How new?”

“Post-war.”

Bumblebee winced.

But before he could comment, Knockout pushed off his perch and stalked towards him. “And that’s why, when I finally convince this kid to leave the Stunticons, you’re going to pardon him and accept him into the Autobot fold without any problems.”

Bumblebee sighed as he braced his servos on his hips.

“They’re criminals, Knockout. I can’t just waive that.”

“You did for that dinobot,” Knockout argued. He was nearly chest-to-chest with Bumblebee now, unwilling to give an inch.

“Grimlock is a special case. He proved himself to be trustworthy.”

“No. Grimlock is special because you like him.”

“He’s a good mech--”

“—And so is Wildbreak.”

With a huff, Bumblebee stepped back and paced away, and of course he heard Knockout’s pedesteps following behind. “Knockout--”

“You want to put an end to the Stunticons, don’t you?”

That brought Bumblebee up short. He stopped and looked over his shoulder, and Knockout lips barely curled enough to be called a smirk, but it was there. “If you really want to ruin their plans, I can’t think of a better way than getting one of them to defect and thus depriving them of two combiner forms.”

“Two? Can he combine with one of the other ones too?”

The smirk grew.

“I can’t believe the Autobots are still so behind when it comes to understanding combiners,” Knockout said, strolling closer, looking every part like the Con he once was. “You don’t honestly think that if your lot could fuse together by sheer accident that a team led by Motormaster, a mech who has been combining for millennia, would be limited to just combining in pairs, do you?” Genuine fear started to spark in Bumblebee’s processor as realization of what Knockout was suggesting settled.

“All of them?”

“Menasor was never as successful a combiner as Devastator, no doubt because Motormaster was never as good a leader as Scrapper, but you still wouldn’t want to meet him on a battlefield,” Knockout continued, examining his claws lazily, as if he wasn’t discussing the former army’s deadliest soldiers and weapons. “Motormaster has only had this team for a little over a decade, so I can’t imagine they’re as good as his previous teams, but that’s more than enough time for them to learn to form Menasor and control him. Certainly enough time to cause your team some serious problems.”

Bumblebee’s engine growled in his chest as he snapped, “Why the frag didn’t you tell me any of that before?!”

Knockout shrugged, looking victorious already. “You didn’t ask.”

“I asked for your help!”

“No. You ordered for it,” Knockout replied snidely. “If you wanted my advice, as one mech to another, you could have asked for it. Instead you got prissy because I didn’t want to play house with you and your little band of misfits.”

Bumblebee’s engine sputtered with indignation and some guilt.

“Fine,” Bumblebee finally agreed, unable to completely rid his voice of irritation. “I’ll figure something out if Wildbreak leaves the Stunticons.”

“Thank you.” It was more a declaration of victory than gratitude.

“Now uh, you have anything else you could tell me about the Stunticons?”

“Unfortunately, I’ve revealed all my cards,” Knockout admitted with a shrug, not sounding the least bit sorry. “But I’ll let you know if I learn anything juicy.”

With that, Knockout was gone again with barely a wave for the handful of team members even online this time of morning.

It wasn’t until later when Bumblebee had Fixit pull up any information he could find on Motormaster and Menasor, criminal or historical, that he finally got the answer to why Knockout had gotten himself so invested. For all that Bumblebee had known Knockout after the war, he had always looked to stay distanced from others, charming but not caring to get involved past pleasantries, never staying in one place for long. But this sparkling of a criminal had caught his full attention in ways no other mech had for over a decade.

The research also explained the almost personal distaste he had for Motormaster and the Stunticons as a team.

There was list of former Stunticon members from early in the war, before even Bumblebee had been forged, and standing out like a glaring neon sign was the name Breakdown.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?”

Dragstrip stared at him before asking, “What?”

“You know, like, where a spark that joins the Allspark comes back out to be forged again--”

“I know what it is. What I’m trying to figure out is why you’re even asking such a pointless question,” Dragstrip mocked. However, he still handed Wildbreak a cube of energon before sitting down to drink his own.

“I dunno. Just been thinking about it.” Because admitting that he was being plagued by thoughts of a mech he shouldn’t know would make Wildbreak sound insane. He wasn’t completely sure that he wasn’t. “Like, would he be the same, or would he be a different mech the second time around? Would he remember anything?”

Dragstrip stared at him out the corner of his optic as he took a long drink.

“When’d you decide to become some sorta religious type?”

Wildbreak just shrugged, muttering, “Doesn’t matter,” and busied himself with his drink.

“This ‘bout your spark thing? You think it’s ‘cause you’re a reincarnation or something?”

“Yeah. But that sounds pretty glitched, don’t it?”

“Eh, who knows how all that Allspark business works,” Dragstrip said with a lazy wave of his servo. “Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. Would it make a difference to ya if you were?”

Knockout’s sad smile as he said Breakdown’s name flashed unbidden in Wildbreak’s processor.

“Depends on who I was.”

Dragstrip hummed noncommittally before finishing off his cube with a satisfied ex-vent.

“Ah well, no way of figuring that out anyway, so don’t worry that tiny little processor of yours over it, buddy ol’ pal,” Dragstrip said as he pushed up to his feet and chucked the cube carelessly. “We got more important stuff to focus on today. We got a big race to win for the Boss!”

“A race?” Wildbreak asked.

“Yeah! With that title, we’ll really be the rulers of the roads!”

Wildbreak’s sparkpulse barely quickened at all at the idea, but he forced a grin onto his face and followed after Dragstrip.

The third time they talked, it was over commlinks. It had only been the one day – Wildbreak hadn't even had a chance to recharge yet beyond the couple hours that morning – but already he missed Knockout something fierce.

::Tomorrow?::

::Yeah,:: Wildbreak said, aware of how hopeful his tone was. ::I’d like to see ya.::

::Unfortunately I'm leaving town tonight. I shouldn't be gone more than a day or two though.::

Wildbreak's spark sank.

::Oh. Ok. Well uh, let me know when you get back then?::

There was a pause, and Wildbreak worried that he had sounded too needy, that Knockout wouldn’t be interested anymore because he was so pathetic—

::You could come with if you wanted.::

Wildbreak's spark was caught between joy and the reality that was his frame. Losing the race had made Motormaster mad and he had taken it out on them all, leaving them battered and just this side of broken. Wildbreak's lines had only just finished closing up, so he wasn't leaking energon anymore, but it would take a couple hours at least to work out the dents. Even then though, Wildbreak knew he needed a long, deep recharge to let his frame heal enough that his injuries wouldn’t be obvious.

Normally, after one of Motormaster’s beatings, Wildbreak would curl up and spend a couple days healing until someone finally dragged him out.

But now, Wildbreak wanted desperately to be up and running as soon as he could.

::I really wish I could, but I can’t do nothing tonight.::

::You can’t honestly tell me that little race was enough to tire you out,:: Knockout teased. Heat bloomed in Wildbreak’s frame with embarrassment.

::You saw that, huh?::

::No need to be embarrassed. We’ve all had Autobots ruin a race or two,:: Knockout said easily.

::Yeah? Tell me about yours?::

::I’m sure you can wait a couple days.::

Wildbreak curled up tighter, arms around his knees and back against a boulder, staring out across the terrain as the sun dipped closer to the horizon.

::Wildbreak?::

::Could you tell me about it now? I—I just really wanna hear you talk. If that isn’t weird. That’s weird, isn’t it?::

There was a moment of silence before Knockout asked, utterly serious, ::Is something wrong?::

::I’m fine,:: Wildbreak answered automatically.

::That’s a lie if ever I’ve heard one.:: And now Knockout sounded concerned.

::Uh, then, I’ll be fine, so it’s ok.::

::Wildbreak.::

Wildbreak squirmed, imaging the look that Knockout would give him.

::Motormaster got mad about the race and, well, you know.::

There was a tired ex-vent that carried across the line before Knockout replied knowingly, ::I do.:: The thought that Knockout had ever been punished when he was a Decepticon hadn’t ever crossed Wildbreak’s processor, but it was there now and it sparked something furious in his lines. He didn’t have time to do anything with that outrage though before Knockout said, ::I can wait until tomorrow morning if you still want to come with me. It won’t be fun, exactly, but I wouldn’t mind the company.::

Wildbreak blinked as he realized what Knockout was offering.

For the first time that day, a genuine grin split Wildbreak’s face.

::Yeah, that would be great! Where’re we going?::

::To visit my old friend.::

“Ey, Wildbreak!” Dragstrip called, and Wildbreak went stiff as a board as his partner continued, “Get over here!”

Wildbreak could also see the sudden fear in Dragstrip’s optics when Motormaster’s engine hummed loud enough to carry as their boss stepped closer to Wildbreak, making himself visible to the other mech.

“Oh, uh, sorry boss, didn’t see you there. I’ll come back later--”

“We’re almost done here,” Motormaster interrupted, deep rumbling voice sounding oddly pleased and all the more terrifying for it. It was rare that a smile on his face meant anything good. “Wildbreak was just telling me his ideas for the next couple days.”

A sinking feeling gripped Wildbreak as Dragstrip stared in confusion.

“Ideas?”

Wildbreak broke their optic contact and stared at the ground as Motormaster continued, “Yes. He’s going to drive out further than we’ve gone before, expanding our territory and proving who those roads belong to now.” His large servo landed on Wildbreak’s shoulder in what should have been a show of pride and affection, but Motormaster’s optics were trained on Dragstrip, mocking him. “If even Wildbreak can show some initiative for once to make up for his failure, then I don’t see what’s keeping the rest of you from doing the same.”

Nothing could have pulled Wildbreak’s stare from the ground, spark pounding because he knew the hateful look that Dragstrip must have been wearing, that all the Stunticons soon would. He had seen it time and again when Motormaster turned them against each other to motivate through spite. But Wildbreak had never been the cause of that; had never been used to shame the other Stunticons.

Wildbreak had never shown initiative before and his teammates were going to hate him for it.

But he did his best to focus on the fact that as soon as this was done, Wildbreak could grab some cubes of energon and escape into Knockout’s company for a while. It would be worth it.

Even knowing the vaguely macabre purpose of the roadtrip, there was nothing that could have kept Wildbreak’s excitement from bubbling over. He got to use his Earth alt-mode and spend hours upon hours driving with Knockout, listening to more of his stories and talking about Earth and Cybertron and politics with him. Knockout was far more knowledgeable about it all, but he wasn’t unkind about it, which in Wildbreak’s opinion was exceedingly kind. He would simply explain what Wildbreak didn’t understand and they would continue with their conversation.

And, despite his designation as an Autobot, Knockout was frank about the war and the aftermath and where the Autobots were succeeding and where they were failing. The more Wildbreak got to know him, the better he understood why Knockout left the Decepticons after spending millennia with them.

Wildbreak wasn’t sure it could really be considered a betrayal when Knockout hadn’t been particularly loyal to start with.

Knockout was a mech who looked out for himself first and foremost. For all his dramatics and charm, he was pragmatic, and Wildbreak might have thought him ultimately detached and cold if he wasn’t so drawn to him.

Not the mention the fact that Knockout had also looked out for at least one other mech.

As the sun started to sink low in the sky, Knockout mentioned Breakdown again. Maybe it was because they were growing ever closer to their destination, or maybe, as Wildbreak hoped, Knockout simply felt more comfortable opening up to him.

Knockout talked about how they had met.

Breakdown had been recovering from an upgrade which had left him larger and stronger, a little loopy as his processor was slowly booting up and accepting the changed frame. When Knockout had walked in as his assigned medic and introduced himself, saying “I’m Knockout,” Breakdown had given him a dopey smile and replied, “Yeah you are.”

It had been far from the first time that Knockout had heard the line, but there was an awe to it that had made Knockout laugh. It had been a good decade since he had last had a genuine laugh.

Knockout talked about how Breakdown would come back time and again, his frame broken and bleeding, but always so honest when he asked how Knockout had been. Once, his entire arm had been crushed into a mangle of twisted metal, limp and immobile and no doubt severely painful, and Breakdown had asked Knockout if he was getting enough recharge. “Your optics just seem dimmer than usual,” Knockout recounted Breakdown saying, not bothering with a funny voice or imitation like the other Cons in his stories received. There had been nothing but affection in Knockout’s tone.

Knockout talked about being reassigned to work in the field. How he had insisted he would need an assistant that could double as a bodyguard. And when he had managed to convince them, he demanded it be Breakdown.

Knockout talked about their resulting partnership.

For a brief moment, as Knockout was halfway through some exciting story about an adventure they had had on a planet Wildbreak had never even heard of, he wondered if he should be jealous.

But he wasn’t.

Not completely.

Wildbreak wasn’t jealous of the relationship that Breakdown had gotten to have with Knockout. It was sweet, and it warmed Wildbreak’s spark in a way that made his processor whirr with confusion, because it was that familiarity again, recognizing what he couldn’t possibly recognize. If anything, it just made Wildbreak feel as if he was truly going mad. Was he really a reincarnation of some big bruiser of a Decepticon soldier, or was he just so desperate for Knockout’s affection that he was fooling himself with wild ideas that those feelings and stories could somehow be about him?

The sun set and Knockout said they had a couple more hours before they would arrive.

And Wildbreak thought to himself that if he was jealous of anything, it was that he wanted to be rescued by Knockout too.

“Any updates, Fixit?”

“A couple, sir,” the minibot replied as he continued to tap away, bringing up a screen for Bumblebee. “I’ve managed to get all the information on Motormaster that’s on record. It’s like Knockout said – he led the Stunticon combiner team during the war, but rarely to any great success compared to the more infamous Constructicon team. It seems to be due to a lack of proper leadership kills – spills – skills!”

Bumblebee scanned the profile as he prompted, “How so?”

“Well, while it isn’t ever spelled out so obviously, the simple fact is that the Stunticon team had a shockingly high turnover rate. Some were deaths of course, but others seemed to find ways to quit the team, which is unprecedented in other Decepticon teams of the time.”

Near the end of the profile was a list of Stunticon members, and indeed there were more than a dozen names, many with (DECEASED) or (TRANSFERRED) by them.

It still seemed like some weird twist of fate to see Breakdown’s name among them.

“The Stunticon team was apprehended at the end of the war, but Motormaster managed to escape and has been on the run since, so Knockout is correct that the team he has now has likely only worked together since then.”

“Well, that’s good to know, at least,” Bumblebee said as he crossed his arms. He’d have to go through the whole profile a couple times to see if there was anything else helpful to be found there. “And did you find anything out about Breakdown?”

Fixit gave him the same bemused look he had when Bumblebee had first asked him, clearly not sure why he was interested in a former member. But still, his digits tapped away, but only to zoom in on where Breakdown was listed on Motormaster’s profile.

“Unfortunately sir, there isn’t much to be found. While he is listed in the Decepticon registry, he’s labeled as deceased, so like most Decepticons who died in the war, there hasn’t been any effort put into searching the former army’s archives for his files to transfer to the Autobot systems. The only information I have is what’s listed here.”

Which wasn’t much. Just a designation, a frame type (small four-wheeler, which had to be a mistake considering what Bumblebee remembered of the big brute), and (TRANSFERRED).

Still, it was a confirmation of Knockout’s connection to the Stunticons, as tenuous and outdated as it was.

“Don’t worry about it, Fixit. I was just curious. Tell me more about Motormaster.”

#fanfiction #i know the way i described the stunticon team is v different from how combiner teams are usually described #aka it's not really a gestalt in any way shape or form #but combining in rid15 is weird?? #if you want a full explanation of my headcanon of the stunticon team and breakdown's relationship to them #and how i came to that headcanon conclusion #feel free to hit me up haha

[self-shipper-snowdrop]

One Frozen Night

I found this in my drafts and decided to post lmao, so take this fic of Nochslan and I.

——————

He was one of the most infamous creatures alive. Rivalled by only the great goddess of chaos herself, who’s name not a soul knew- or if they did, they dared not speak it. He was a being beyond what the human mind could comprehend, who’s true form was supposedly everything yet nothing all at once. A creature who supposedly cared for nothing, and would kill whoever he desired. The creature who Bronwen ran into mere days ago.

The young princess, living in a small but strong kingdom off in it’s own little corner of the world, had stumbled across him on her twentieth birthday. At the stroke of eleven, with the moon high in the sky, she had been wandering the halls of her palace. She’d been trying to find her butler in order to obtain a glass of water, as hers had run low, and as she was suffering with vertigo the young woman knew it wasn’t wise to go without a cup. She was frail, wandering the halls with her hand against the stone, leaning against it for support. Little did she know, a spiteful villager had called upon the demon that night- asking him to topple the royal family. So she was not alone in those shadowed halls. Wobbly, easily lead astray, a perfect little target for the demon… yet there was something about her that made him pause. Was it the determination in her eyes? The way she fearlessly navigated the dark, even despite her delicate state? Perhaps the way the moonlight reflected in her eyes, or the way her hair curled carefully, yet entirely on it’s own, oh so perfectly framing her face? He wasn’t sure, but it was enough to make him pause. Enough to stop and look at her, before wandering closer- hidden within the shadows, impossible for any mortal being to track. Only sense, if their instincts were refined enough.

From the shiver he saw shoot through her body, however, the young princess’ were.

“Who’s there? Alastor, is that you?” Bronwen called out, searching for her butler somewhere around her, “I know I shouldn’t be up with this headache, and I’m sorry, but I just needed to get something-”

“I’m afraid you aren’t quite so fortunate, fair one.”

Bronwen froze. Gripping the fabric of her nightdress just over her heart, the young woman was shaking slightly as she turned around- only to gasp at the sight before her. Slowly materializing from the shadows, taking on a human shape, was a man. He easily towered over her, and wore rich black armour, accented with a divine shade of blue that rivalled the night at her finest. Sapphires that put any gems she had seen before it to shame decorated the crown in his head, and a few spots in the armour, carved into diamond shapes with a precision she didn’t think was possible until that moment. The gauntlets on his hands had sharp fingertips which nearly made her flinch at the very sight, almost as if she were to look at it too long that she’d end up cut- it seemed to be a miracle it didn’t cut the long, translucent black cape trailing behind him as it was brushed out of his way. His skin looked as if it were lovingly crafted in porcelain and kissed by moonlight, with rich eyes of ruby that seemed to draw you in. With hair the colour of melted chocolate, short and a little fluffy, and his facial features defined and sharp, he was breathtaking. But something about him was so incredibly… off. A feeling strong enough to nearly bring Bronwen to her knees, striking a primal fear within her heart. His very aura was enough to make her heart race, and question what he even was. But Bronwen knew. It was impossible for anyone in this world not to know his name.

“You… You’re the destroyer’s apprentice. Right hand to the goddess of chaos.” Bronwen breathed, her grip on her nightdress growing tighter as he walked towards her, “The one known as The Disciple.”

“So I am. Such fancy titles are such a bore though, wouldn’t you agree, dear princess? The Disciple should be more than enough.” He mused, seeming a touch surprised as she firmly stood her ground, “Interesting. You know not just who I am, but what I am, and yet you don’t even attempt to back away? I’m almost impressed… if it’s of bravery or stupidity we will soon see.”

“Perhaps both. But there is no escaping a demon of your caliber- only one removed from her, it’s pointless to try and run. Besides… if you’re going to steal my soul, I would rather it be after I put up a fight. Not as I try to run away. Cowardice is something I refuse to succumb to, even as I stand against you.” Bronwen replied, her eyes narrowing into an intense glare, “Now tell me, Disciple. What is your business with me?”

A chuckle rang out into the cold air, Bronwen’s bloody becoming icy as it turned into a full blown laugh. She half expected him to insult her and rip her soul straight from her body then and there, but… he didn’t. The Disciple simply looked down at her, his armoured hand slipping under her chin and titling it up slightly- so she had to look him directly in the eyes. She tried to tear her gaze away, but couldn’t, as if she were locked in place by his stare alone. Was this how she was going to die?

“You’re certainly an interesting one. Perhaps while that other girl plays her little game…” He thought aloud, leaning in a touch closer, “…I’ll have you keep my entertained instead.”

Bronwen’s face flushed bright pink at the distance, “What are you talking about? Unhand me this instant! I don’t care who you are, by the goddesses if you don’t let go of me I’ll tear off your arms! Do you hear me!?”

“Aw… how cute. The princess believes she can defeat a demon~” The Disciple smirked, but released her, instead taking Bronwen’s hand into his own. “Fair one, I wish to see more of you. You are a rather… fascinating creature. But I don’t wish to overstep. Well, not until things grow too dull in the underrealm, at least. I must return to Nochtus, but should you desire to see me again…”

He kneeled before Bronwen, lightly kissing the back of her hand. The gesture was careful, almost calculated- almost seeming practiced until that very moment. It confused and flustered her all at once, but that only succeeded in making his smirk grow.

“…Then think of this moment. Think of me, and with the intent to summon, call the name Nochslan.”

With those words he was gone, and the princess’ own dizziness hit her as it did- leaving her to collapse to the ground as the tips of his fingers faded into a black mist and vanished into thin air.

Bronwen had woken up the next morning, thinking it must have all been a dream. But as she spent hours bedridden, waited on by staff at the palace trying to nurse her back to health, she couldn’t seem to get The Disciple out of her head. It was such a perplexing encounter… by all means, she should have died. She was vulnerable and weak, as fascination by demons was oft tied to souls, meaning he should have just consumed hers. So why didn’t he? Was it all a dream after all? But it seemed so vivid. Just a touch too detailed- a touch too real- for it to be a dream.

So as she lie there in bed one night, alone, Bronwen sat upright- staring out the window at the moon. It was a blue moon that night. A dangerous time, when it was said that demons had closer ties to this realm from the one below, as the ‘colour of the destructive one painted the land’. But he said he wanted to see her again… if it was just a dream, then his advice to summon him wouldn’t work. So perhaps she should try.

Taking a deep breath, Bronwen closed her eyes. She thought back to that moment, focusing on the feeling of his hand holding hers. On the words he spoke after lifting his lips from her skin. The way to summon a demon… simply speak his name, with a strong desire in your heart. So, she focused on her own curiosity, a need to know what happened the past night. Then, she called him.

“Nochslan.”

There was a chill that swept through the room, and a familiar shifting of metal combined with somehow light steps approaching her bedside.

“You actually called, fair one…” A smooth, silken voice remarked, the space beside her on the bed lowering slightly, “But I am glad you did. For what reason did you wish to see me?”

Bronwen turned to face him. He was just as she remembered… except this time, she felt a little more at ease. Something about this encounter felt… different, and it piqued her own curiosity. A wonder that jammed her internal warning signals about the dangers of him. So, she smiled softly.

“I was wondering if I could learn more about you, Nochslan.”

#self insert #self ship #romantic; sign with a devil #the dreamer’s diary of escapism

[phan-of-the-pen]

I Dare You To Stay: Chapter 26

Last chapter! Wow! Thank you all for sticking through with this fic through all of the ups, downs, and missed uploads lmao. In all seriousness, this fic is special to me because it explores themes of asexuality. Obviously this fic doesn’t even scratch the surface, but it was cathartic, and I think that it could help to expand someone else’s view of the world. In short, I hope this fic was enjoyed by others, not just me. Thanks for reading guys <3

Tags for chapter: so much fluff I can’t breathe, dan baby you’re making me sob :( (in a good way)

Words for chapter: ~2.6 k

Fic Summary: Dan Howell is a barista working a shitty job, frequenting his shitty apartment, and living a shitty existence, hiding his asexuality and going for a PHD in self-depreciation and depression. Phil Lester is a part-time intern, part-time employee at a local weather station, trying to get experience in his field and make a name for himself, while juggling a second job at the nearby Tesco’s to give him some financial breathing room. Their paths were never supposed to meet, but what happens when they do anyways, one rainy day in Manchester?

(ao3!)

<-- Previous Chapter Masterpost

~~~~~~~~~~

"Dan, come on."

"No, don't 'Dan come on' me. I didn't come up to London to go to that."

Phil crossed his arms and frowned. He didn't say anything, only fixed Dan with a knowing and disappointed look. Dan folded his arms as well, but he squirmed under Phil's gaze. Sighing, Dan let his arms drop and a hand up to rub at his face.

"Fine. I've thought about it. A lot actually."

"Good. We'll go."

"No, we're not."

"Dan, why wouldn't we?"

"Because Jaime and I haven't talked to each other in literal weeks? Because she probably doesn't want me there? Because the last conversation we had she told me that she 'couldn't do this anymore' and hung up on me? Phil I can keep going—there are a lot more reasons that I can give you if you still don't believe me."

Phil sighed and nodded in acknowledgment.

"Look, I'm not saying that you don't have a reason to not go because you do. You have a lot of reasons. But the thing is, I know you. And I know that you're still hurting over this whole thing, but I also know that you miss your best friend, and that you still love her with your whole heart. I know that whether or not you two make up and start talking again, you'll regret not going to the debut for the rest of your life."

Phil threaded his fingers through Dan's and squeezed.

"Listen, if you really don't want to go, we won't, but I want you to think about it alright? Don't make a decision based on guilt or bitterness." Phil smiled. "And don't worry about trying to find something to wear; you can borrow one of my nice shirts."

Dan couldn't help his small smile.

"You just want to see me in your clothes."

Phil's eyes twinkled, and he fingered the hem of his own jumper that was on Dan's body.

"Maybe," he said before dropping a kiss onto Dan's lips. "Just think about it, alright? That's all I ask."

~~~~~

Phil paid for the cab—Dan was too busy staring slack-jawed at his surroundings.

The theater was huge, and the architecture was rich and luxurious, as well as the people who were mingling in front of the sprawling staircase. The whole building was lit up with sparkling lights, and a gigantic poster was hung about two stories up, advertising the production. On it was Jaime in her costume, right in the middle, smiling mischievously.

"Wow, she really wasn't kidding when she said that the company was rich." Phil said to Dan's left. "Something tells me that she won't have to go back to making coffee after this."

The interior was even more impressive. Marble floors, rich carpets, beautiful plants, and huge, vaulting ceilings. The room was lit up by a series of chandeliers hanging high above their heads that casted the vast room in a warm, yellow light. On the far wall was a series of posters in frames. A large sign told Dan that they were the original productions that the company that owned this theater produced, and each poster was signed by all of the actors, actresses, directors, and crew. With a surge of pride, Dan's eyes fell on the poster of Jaime's play.

There were a few lines to purchase tickets for those who had not pre-ordered, and Dan and Phil only had to wait a few minutes before it was their turn. The prices made Dan's stomach twist, but Phil was already in his wallet, pulling out bills.

"Two tickets please."

"Can I have your names and a phone number please? It is for identification purposes in case the tickets are lost or stolen." The employee asked, taking the money and running up a sale.

"I'm Phil Lester, and this is Dan Howell. My number is-"

"Wait a minute," the man interrupted, something akin to recognition in his eyes. He put the money down immediately and moved some papers around on his desk as if he was looking for something. He frowned.

"Stay here, please."

They watched as he briskly walked to one of the people greeting those who had already purchased their tickets. This employee was wearing a full suit, and if Dan had to guess, this woman was some kind of floor manager. Dan and Phil watched as the two of them had a short conversation before the woman pulled out her phone and tapped a few times. She showed the screen to the man, pointing to something. They both exchanged a few other words and then turned around and made their way through the crowd back to where Dan and Phil were standing. She approached with a smile, but it didn't do much to easy Dan's anxiety over what the hell had just happened.

Just my fucking luck—Jaime probably said something to the crew to keep us from coming.

"Sorry for the wait," she said. At her side, the man cancelled the sale and handed Phil back his money. "Can you please follow me?"

Wary, Dan exchanged a look with Phil, who shrugged and wrapped his hand in Dan's.

"Why not?"

Anxious, but trusting, Dan let Phil lead him in the direction that the woman had started walking. They caught up to her and followed as she led them to the other side of the room. She led them around a well hidden corner that Dan had looked right at but hadn't noticed, and down a hallway. At the end was a burly man. Dan assumed that he was a guard to make sure that no straying guests wandered through the Employee's Only door behind him. However he didn't block their path, but rather stepped aside as soon as he saw the manager. She led them through that door and another before they came to a final door titled Stage Access. Horribly confused, they walked through.

The other side was like another world. It was dimly lit but loud with chatter, and people were rushing around in half of their costumes, props were everywhere, and the stage crew was knee-deep in equipment checks. None of them batted Dan or Phil an eye—they just kept about their business.

Eventually the woman led them down another hallway, but this one had doors up and down both sides. She stopped at one all of the way down the end and knocked sharply twice before turning around to Dan and Phil.

"A member of the crew will make sure that all of the guests are out from behind backstage around fifteen minutes before the production starts, so make sure you are out by then. If you need help finding your way, ask one of the crew to point you in the right direction and they'll help you. Thank you for coming to see our production, I hope you have a wonderful night."

She gave them one last professional smile before turning around and disappearing in the rush of people that were working hard to make sure that everything was ready. The door behind them opened and Dan heard a gasp.

"Dan?"

And holy fuck, that was Jaime-

Dan spun around and there was Jaime, standing in the doorway in half of her costume, he makeup done and her hair up. Their eyes met, and for a handful of heartbeats it seemed that everything had stilled. All Dan could do was stare at her, his breaths short and ragged. Should he hug her? God, he really wanted do, but did she? Would she call for security or something? Had Dan and Phil's names been on that list before he and Jaime's falling out, and had she just forgotten to remove them? God could he fucking hug her, he's missed her so much-

Jaime fisted the front of Dan's shirt and pulled him into her room before latching onto him tightly. She had her arms around Dan's neck and her fingers were clutching tight around Dan's frame as if she was worried that he would try and leave if she let go of him. She buried her face in his chest and the millisecond of shock wore off immediately. Dan brought his arms around her in a hurry and held her tightly. They were both holding one another too hard, but it didn't matter, it didn't matter.

Jaime was blubbering something in Italian, but they were muffled from her speaking to Dan's chest, so he couldn't really make them out. Even if she had been speaking clearly he wasn't sure that he would be able to translate them because Dan was crying himself and he was sure that he wouldn't have been able to concentrate enough to make sense of the other language.

But it didn't matter.

It didn't matter.

"I thought you hated me," Dan whispered, his voice croaky. Jaime shook her hair wildly and pulled away. Her eyes were red and tears were freely falling down her cheeks, but her makeup must have been meant to last the apocalypse because it was just barely smudged.

"I-I could never. Mio Dio, Dan I thought you hated me. I-I kept taking forever to reply and I wasn't paying attention to you, and I could feel the strain on our relationship, and I was so scared that this distance was going to tear us apart, and I couldn't deal with it. And then there was everything with the play and I was so stressed and everything was going wrong, and then I-I hung up on you! I thought that that was the last straw and you were d-done with my shit, so I didn't try and text you again because I wanted to give you space and let you have the choice as to whether or not you want to talk to me again, and I know that none of that is an excuse, but Dio, perché tutto questo è incasinato?" she said, rambling.

Dan laughed the kind of laugh what was sort of hysterical and the kind that you did when everything felt too surreal.

"You're right, how did everything get so messed up? The funny thing—well, really the fucked up thing—is that I wasn't texting you for the same reason. I thought that you would come to me if you wanted me. God, Jaime, we're fucking idiots."

Jaime laughed wetly and buried herself back into Dan's chest. "We really are," she said, muffled. "I'm so sorry, Dan, I'm so sorry. More sorry than you could know." She continued. Dan shook his head, and really, he needed to stop crying, but his tear ducts were uncooperative in that aspect.

"No, no I get it. I'm just as sorry."

"If this happens again we've got to sit down or something because I can't do this a second time. God, Dan, I missed you so much."

Dan nodded, agreeing completely.

"Miscommunication really is a bitch," Dan laughed. His eyes settled on Phil. He was standing off to the side, but he looked happy and proud at their reunion. Jaime seemed to notice him at the same time.

"Get in here, Lester," she said, reaching out to motion him over, "I've missed your stupid face too."

Phil smile was soft, and he easily wrapped his arms around the both of them.

"See Dan," Phil said, and teasing look in his eyes, "I told you we should have come."

~~~~~

Dan and Phil hadn't left by the time that the crew member made their rounds to make sure that all of the guests were out from behind backstage, so Dan found himself getting asked to please leave before he had had his fill on Jaime's attention.

They had a lot of time to catch up on.

After the tears had subsided, they had spent time in Jaime's changing room giving each other the fast version of everything that had happened to one another, and Dan had called his boss to let him know that he wouldn't be coming back for a few more days because suddenly this little vacation was the most important thing in Dan's life because he had Jaime back.

Dan and Jaime had also made plans to sit down and actually talk about everything that had happened between them, and how they had ended up in the situation that they had. It was important to the both of them that something like this never happened again and that they got to hear each other's perspectives and feelings out.

When Dan finally tore himself away from their goodbye hug, he once again had to dry his eyes. These tears were once of happiness though.

He lets Phil guide him through the throngs of people scurrying this way and that backstage. The whole encounter left Dan feeling raw and emotionally squeezed, but he also felt too happy and hopeful for the future than he could try and articulate.

If you had asked him a few hours ago if he thought that he and Jaime would make up, he would have been hard-pressed to say yes. And they had a long way to go to repair the damage between them, but Dan could feel in his heart that they would make it through this. They would.

Maybe the impossible wasn't as improbable as it seemed.

Dan's hand that wasn't laced through Phil's was buried in his pocket, and the back of one of his knuckles brushed against something hard and smooth that he had forgotten was even there in the recent excitement. Dan's ace ring.

A few thoughts rushed through his consciousness, but he brushed most of them to the side. Not listening to his gut and letting his anxieties get ahold of him had helped Dan get into the situation that he had with Jaime.

It was time that he stopped letting the voices in his head control his life.

It was time that he stopped staying still.

It was time for him to start moving forward.

Dan gently used their linked hands to pull Phil to a stop. They were right in front of the door that would lead them out from backstage, and Phil had his hand on the doorknob. He looked at Dan curiously, but Dan didn't really pay him any mind.

In his pocket, Dan's fingers fidgeted with the ring. A few months ago, he was still dealing with internalized aphobia. A few weeks ago, he was trying to muster the courage to wear it around Phil, one of the only people who had accepted him fully.

David had told Dan to follow what he thought was right. Mary had told Dan to not be afraid of change and to remember that he had the strength to move forward with his life.

There were so many things in Dan's future that he was anxious about. He was worried about not being able to land a job in London. He was worried about—as unrealistically as it was—something happening between him and Phil. He was worried about his relationship with Jaime, about finding a therapist in London that he liked, about moving, and hell, about so much more.

But he had Phil. And Jaime, and David was only a text away. Dan could always take a train to visit Mary. He had all of these people that cared about him, and that was enough for him. Dan was done with being scared of what could happen.

Weeks ago, Dan had worn his ace ring on his finger in public on his way to his Gina's office, but he had kept his hand in his pocket. This time, as soon as the ring was settled against his skin, Dan pulled his hand from his pocket and out into the world.

He was done hiding.

Phil smiled widely and pressed a kiss to Dan's lips. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. Phil pulled the backstage door open, and Dan stepped through, his ace ring glinting like a diamond in the light.

#its the last chapter and im emotional #how about that ending yall #my fics #allyssaTM #I dare you to stay #i dare you to stay: chapter 26 #idyts #dan howell #phil lester #ace!dan #chaptered #fluff #phan #phanfiction #phanfic #im gonna miss this fic ngl #au