Holiday Horror at Taco Bell

Welcome to my first piece of pure crack-fic in actual years. The legendary @toothlessbeggar sent me a hilarious post that birthed the scene for today. Shout-out to @spageddy and @britnxyspears for inspiring this, and if you two see it I hope this is the wild, platonic idea that you dreamed of in your hearts.

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the store, two fools were stirring to keep things no bore.

Which is to say, neither you nor DIO are having a great time being stuck here at Taco Bell on Christmas Eve. Yeah, you get it, blah blah night shift regulars, blah blah 24/7 drive-thru, blah blah attempt to boost sales. Whatever. It sucks ass. This place barely keeps itself afloat on its best days, so you don't think a couple extra hours on what tends to be one of the quietest days of the year is gonna do much.

Well, they say misery loves company, and you and DIO are both definitely not having fun. To be fair, John isn't exactly partying either, but as always, he's hanging out in the back looking at his phone until either the manager comes out of her office or a customer comes up. So on a night like this, when Ami decided that as the manager she could take the night off and the last pull-up you had was an hour and twelve minutes ago, he's down and out.

Which leaves you and your terrorist coworker free reign of the store to punish her and the day shift bastards who snagged all the time off for today.

"Look," you say, carefully keeping the giant cup of sour cream in your hands out of the view of anyone who pulls up to the window, "all I'm saying is this will work way better than trying to put it in the ice maker. It fits the same theme as your idea but it won't get noticed so fast."

DIO clearly isn't buying it, even after all this back and forth, mostly because he never likes admitting his ideas aren't the best. He's got an ego to match the pyramids, and it shows. "I still believe that to break into the ice maker and pour the sour cream in there would cause greater problems. They could not blame this on us, as we do not have a key for the lock and I have saved enough ice to last through our shift."

"They can't blame us for one of the slushie pour packets being messed up, either," is your counter argument. You get it, you know why he wants to fuck with the ice machine and ruin everyone's drinks, but you think there's extra fun to be had if you keep it slow and start the burn quietly. "Plus, it will be so much harder for anyone to notice that something is wrong with the Freezes, since fewer people buy them."

"Which is why it is such a useless maneuver," DIO shoots back, unwilling to budge. "It will cause next to no havoc, barely being seen by anyone before it is time to flush the machines. To sabotage the ice will be a better move, as it will impact more orders and thus place Ami in more trouble. It will appear as if she is not enforcing cleaning procedures."

He's right on the money there. With the way the sour cream would taint the water, it'd look pretty accurately like someone used a dirty jug to fill up the machine, and the customers would notice the messed up taste in their drinks in droves. However, you want to do your 'prank'. You smuggled a syringe out here for a reason,and that was to mess up the damn Wild Freeze pouches. The damn slushies make everything sticky and nasty as hell, not to mention the machines are a pain in the ass to clean.

And then it hits you, the solution to your definitely illegal problems. It hits you like lightning struck that one dude who got hit like, ten times in his life. You've forgotten his name by now. But there is a way to make this work, you realize. "Hey, DIO, this is a time of generosity, yeah?"

"Such is the general agreement," the buff blond answers, untrusting of how you shifted the conversation. For all that neither of you hated the holiday season, giving was not at all the mood here in the sinking ship.

You shoot him the evilest grin you can muster, which you do have to confess pales in comparison to his; dude was built like a fucking anime villain you swear. But you try your hardest to reclaim the mood of mischief and ruin and it seems to buy you a pinch of his trust back. "Then, why don't we do both? Hit the drinks at two ends and get Ami and her day shift pets in the biggest shit?"

There's a moment of silence in the store, broken only by the sound of whatever bootleg mobile game John is playing in the back to completely ignore you two and your criminal behavior. DIO thinks for a second, but only a second, before busting out his truly demonic grin. "A proper Christmas gift, indeed."

Stars In Your Eyes Chapter 1

For the @jaytimweek  Day 1: Space Pairing: JayTim Rating: Mature Notes: I had hoped to have this done completely but health and my muse wanting to make it longer derailed those plans but I love JayTim in space to much to quit. Warnings: One scene of suicide and talk of victim blaming. Summary: Tim along with his friends take to the stars for a "short" break and mission only to decide to stay. When the Outlaws begin looking for them it becomes a chase among the stars as Jason and Tim take on an interesting and unique way of flirting. You can also read it on AO3

After a fallout between him, Dick, Bruce and the others Tim had set out to prove that he could fly on his own only there were those who wouldn't let him, his true family vowed to be with him every step he took.

Staring out the window there were days that Tim could hardly believe that this was his life now. To see the stars and planets up close. To see nebulas colours twisting and twirling around one another creating sights to behold.

"These are the voyages of Young Justice, seeking out those who would harm the innocent and basically just be jerks. To kick some ass and save the day while looking awesome as we do it."

A long-drawn-out sigh escaped Tim as he heard Bart start to narrate their day again, "I should have never let you watch Star Trek." Tim muttered into his hand.

Conner let out a laugh at Tim's comment, "Dude, you made us sit through and watch Star Trek and Star Wars so we could see how epic they were and get our opinions on which franchise is better." Tim's so-called best friend reminded him.

And okay Conner was right about that once Tim learned that neither Bart nor Conner had seen either Star Wars or Star Trek he had made it his mission to change that and now he was regretting it so much.

Tim had hoped when he found Bruce that things would change, that Dick would take apologize for his actions, would want him back as his little brother. Would stand beside him and speak to the Justice League that he was wrong as were they for turning their backs on a teenager who had lost everyone he loved.

But none of that happened.

Tim knew that Dick had a lot on his plate, stepping up to be Batman as well as raise the demon brat but he thought that Dick had missed him as much as he had missed his big brother but he had hardly spoken to him.

That added salt to the open wounds Tim was still carrying. So when a Raven suggested that Tim take a much-needed break one that would do Kon and Bart good as well, coming back from the dead could mess a person up and it was best that they take some time to heal.

Plus no one was brave enough to say no to Raven, if she wanted you to take a break you would even if that break ended up being in a demon demission.

Bart still had his hidden space ship and Tim had seen how much Jason enjoyed being out here and it had truly helped him to control his pit madness.

It was supposed to be a two-week trip then they ended up helping stop kidnapping and then they saved a planet from being enslaved and then something else came up and now they had been in space for six months and none of them were in a hurry to head home.  

Somehow they had managed to become Space Vigilantes.

And as Tim glanced around looking at Bart, Conner, Cassie, Cass and Helena looking at home on the ship and then done to Dex-Starr that was purring away on his lap Tim realized that it had been years since he felt this at peace.

Jason had always thought that he was going to remain the black sheep of the Wayne family he never thought that his perfect replacement would tell Bruce and Dick to go screw themselves, give up his claim to the Wayne name and take off with his best friends into parts unknown.

Of course, that didn't mean that just because Tim was done with them it didn't mean they were done with Tim of course it had taken three months Tim returning to take Cass and Helena with him before it sunk in their "family" thick heads that Tim was serious he wasn't coming back. So when Oracle failed in hiding them they turned to their last resort.

A loud laugh escaped Jason as he stared at the face of his so-called brother, "You want me to help you find the kid that you tossed aside for the demon child who tried to kill him more than I did? Who from the moment he arrived used Timmy as his verbal, emotional and physical punching bag and to this day still does. You have got to be kidding me Dickface. Tim did the smart thing and the healthy thing to get away from that toxic and I ain't dragging the kid back to it."

Jason couldn't understand Dick when it had been him riding the pit madness and Talia's poisons whispers in his ear trying to kill Tim Dick had been protective and willing to go one on one with Jason but when it was Damian he was basically victim-shaming Tim into not being okay with Damian's treatment of him.

A sigh escaped a tired-looking Dick and Jason would have felt sorry for him if this wasn't of his own making. And if he hadn't seen the damage Damian's treatment and Dick, Bruce and even Alfred's lack of setting boundaries first hand.

Jason had been searching for Tim for a while. He wanted to make amends with the younger man. He had heard about the fallout between Replacement and the rest of the Bats but the last thing he expected was to see Tim standing on top of Wayne Enterprise's arms spread out wide as he took a step off of the ledge and let himself fall.

Jason could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he forced himself to go faster, he couldn't be late he had to catch Tim. Too much blood had been spilt and he wouldn't let another Robin die.

Once he had Tim in his arms did Jason remember how to breathe. Landing on the nearby roof Jason ripped off his helmet, "What the hell was that replacement?"

Haunted blue eyes looked up at him, "Why did you save me, Jason?"

At that moment Jason felt like he was back in his coffin.

The look in Tim's eyes and the lack of emotions still haunted Jason to this day and he might not be able to do much but he can keep Tim safe.

"Look Jason, I get that things haven't been easy for Tim but it is time that he got past his tantrum and returned home." Dick couldn't understand why Tim was acting like this and to make matter worse Raven and Gar were refusing to talk to him about Tim and about allowing Damian onto the team.

Frustrated that they were just going around in circles Jason ran a hand through his hair, "Look Dickie I  know firsthand what training with the league was right and I know the demon brat had it rough but until you set boundaries for him, ones that include not trying to kill his brother, or using him as an emotional and physical punching bag I ain't helping you find Timbit."

Dick fell to his automatic defence, "Damian has changed and Tim is older." He winced at the look not only Jason gave him but also Roy and Kory. "Look I know Damian can be a little much but he has changed so much."

"No one is denying that you haven't worked wonders with the brat but you are still blind to how he treats Tim and that isn't healthy." Jason countered.

"Also have you gotten around to fixing Tim's standing in the hero community or is he still called the insane Robin?" Roy spoke up he had experienced firsthand what it was like to be the black sheep of the hero community, to hear the whispers and judgemental eyes watching your every move waiting for you to screw up and he refused to let Tim go through that as well.

The wince that crossed Dick's face was answer enough.

A soft sigh escaped Kory as she looked at her one-time love, "Dick, there is no denying that you had much to handle when we thought Bruce was lost from wearing the cowl to raising an abused boy that you let Tim slip through the cracks. Tim had lost so many in his life in a short time that losing Robin, his place in the community and his big brother all at once has left deep scars that have yet to heal."

Jason and Roy saw the effect that Kory's words had on Dick as he looked ashamed, "He had me." Dick whispered.

"Did he?" Jason demanded. "Because I remember he had a big brother that told him a neglected and abused teen that he needed to take the kill attempts, the verbal and emotional abuse from Damian because he was older. Because Damian's horrible upbringing somehow made Tim invalid. That he as the victim should just take it because how dare he wants to feel safe in a place he once thought of as home with the people he thought of as family. Only to be tossed aside and ignored as he was repeatedly attacked. Until you can look me in the eye and tell me that you have talked to Damian and the rest of the heroes I won't be helping you find Tim." With that, Jason cut the communication with Dick.

Letting out a sigh Jason relaxed back into his chair.

"So what are we doing?" Roy asked.

They had heard rumours of a bunch of teens, teens that happened to match the description of a certain team of young heroes who had taken off for a mission only once it was completed they sent back a message that they were staying in space helping out others and they weren't that far away.

Opening his eyes Jason's lips curved up into a smile as he purred out, "We have a bird and his flock to hunt."

I love how they mirror each other, here they say the same thing in unison - they definitely fit well together (and that goes even in things like keeping the other person in the dark for their own good/taking decisions out of that person’s hands - this is such a pattern between them that honestly it doesn’t bother me because it’s clearly a basic character trait and it would be weird for it to disappear. She pushed him away on the mountain, he pushed her away repeatedly as Lord Bo, she drugged him to go and rescue his brother etc etc. That’s just how they are dysfunctionally built.)

This happens much later but I feel like bringing it up now so:

They have clearly cut the FUCK out of the plot. I mean, this comes out of nowhere - now she has super strength thing (and probably hulked out since she asked Snake Lady about whether she hurt her) like Wolfie used to but also black blood which means imminent death and WHAT HOW WHY I feel like I skipped five episodes. Honestly, the things I want to do to the censors should be banned by the Geneva Convention.

I mean, three versions - (1) she decided to take the hulk out medicine because she wanted to go rescue Fourth Brother so Wolfie won’t go and die. She didn’t care about the side effects danger because she doesn’t want to live without Wolfie anyway but they are even quicker and more severe than she thought. That doesn’t make sense since she has a whole army at her disposal, she doesn’t need to go by herself. (2) She took it as part of effort to find antidote for Wolfie’s issues and either it failed or she didn’t lie when she told Wolfie during their wedding there is an antidote (and there is some plot reason why he could have it but she can’t.) (3) Remember that weird as hell treatment the King told Snake Lady to give to her supposedly for her legs back way when and it was gonna be a means to control her and there was something creepy in the water but they never showed what and it seemed to have been dropped. I think the King could have ordered Snake Lady to give her that stuff, but it was only a little and maybe the plan went haywire later with all that happened, so it didn’t really catch up with her until now. 

I mean, I really NEED to know that stuff. It drives me crazy that it clearly had a very functional plot (no, it was never going to be Joy of Life or The Story of Minglan, but it clearly had a thought out dark fairy tale type of plot - certainly as solid as e.g., Prince of Lan Ling, Love and Redemption or similar) but because of the cuts, some of it now lurches as a no-leg monster. The drama still works so much for me because of its emotional, shippy and character beats, but objectively the narrative becomes a huge mess at times.

The other thing (I was talking about it to @andoqin​ and I am lazy and am stealing a lot of it from what I said in chat), is in the original Wolfie killed her father (just take a look at those scenes - the build, the weapons, the clothes, it’s Wolfie) and censors made them cut it. Which - then the story then becomes “I hated him but now I know he didn’t kill my dad, I do not” and that is a fun cliche but cliche. But it’s a factual mess and emotionally the other narrative is more interesting.

Factually:

1. She never talks during her big taking him back scene about “now I know you are utterly innocent of killing my dad” which you would think be the biggest relevant point. No, all she talks is his expiating and redeeming and paying back.

2. If he never killed her family and didn’t even know they would be killed (which wtf - the King clearly thinks he is capable of killing the woman he loves if the king asks, but will cavil at killing a random old man?) plus we never see his supposed atrocities, what does he need to atone for? Sure, he executed some people on orders of king but all we see are adult rebel types. And he was an epic jerk to her. But being a bad boyfriend and carrying commands of the king (and none of these commands are particularly depraved thanks to the censors) is run of the mill feudal lord behavior. I mean, the way the censors left things, he’s better than Feng Xi in Twisted Fate of Love who killed the heroine upon meeting her (and he didn’t know she was immortal and come back), whipped her (to free her from prison; at least none of Wolfie’s insanity included a whipping), and does a hell of shady stuff for noble vengeance reasons. But (rightly), there is no issue with Feng Xi because he has ok reasons for his actions, falls hard for DY, is willing to die for her etc. Feng Xi is certainly not being shipped to the mines and repenting like he’s been murdering babies. No should he be, I hasten to add, but in the modified narrative, neither should Wolfie! I mean his horror and repentance and hitting rock bottom and all that suffering become out of proportion to any of his wrongs (he is solidly middle of the pack as far as period cdrama heroes and bad stuff.) Like - unless they are all Quakers, he doesn’t have that much to repent for to that extent. “My father the king is a douche and I treated you badly” might be break up territory but it’s not REPENT SINNER one. (Same goes to everyone calling him a monster and him believing it and how hard it hits him just as it hits him hard when she insists he’s a human. Since he doesn’t turn into a literal physical monster any more nor has he even been shown to do horrific things other than some really veiled allusions, it makes me think all those other people calling him that are a bunch of hysterics.)

3. In this narrative, the Trio were the only ones who killed Daddy. Fine. But she has no interest in seeking revenge on the remaining two. None. 

And that brings me to the point that emotionally, the original narrative to me is so much stronger because there he (and Trio) killed her family but she can look past it because she realizes they were all tools of a monster who were brought up and gaslit and brainwashed and had basically no choice about any of it, and they genuinely cared for her. With respect to Wolfie, he was basically tortured into inhumanity but he still loved her so much and all of his actions where he was horrid to her were driven not by cruel enjoyment of her suffering or lack of feeling but by his love and need to protect her. And he literally tried to die to expiate. And I love that this is what matters to her - what was the deal breaker for her never was her family’s death because she understands even early on that none of them had a choice or even ability to fully consent and comprehend what they were doing. Her deal breaker was not that he (and the Trio) was damaged and was forced to do awful stuff, but that he enjoyed it, that he didn’t care, that his love was not genuine, that he didn’t have a loving loyal heart under all the damage. And honestly, that narrative is so much more powerful to me.

We’re Blooming Together Chapter 4: Sweet

AO3

Ships: Solomon/Asmo

Word Count: 3693

Warnings: None

Chapter 1-Chapter 2-Chapter 3-Chapter 4-Chapter 5-Chapter 6-Chapter 7-Chapter 8-Chapter 9-Chapter 10-Chapter 11-Chapter 12

Asmo pulled the covers over his head. His weekend beauty alarm hadn’t gone off yet, why was he awake? He’d just been having another wonderful dream too. It took a while for it to register, but then he heard the rustling . Asmo peeled open one of his eyes. Then he blinked once. Twice.  No. He wouldn’t dare .

Mammon was crouched next to his dresser, going through Asmo’s things.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Asmo growled, tossing the blankets back. Mammon jumped and turned towards his younger brother. He painted a smile across his face and started to pat Asmo’s head.

“I just wanted to wake up my little brother, is that so bad?” he asked. Asmo swatted his hand away and glared at him. Never mind that Asmo’s hair was still messy, he didn’t need Mammon messing it up more. Plus he was already angry. He’d caught Mammon going through his things! What a great way to start his morning. Then he saw what Mammon had in his hands.

“What are you doing with that?”

“Oh? This?” Mammon held up the letter. Asmo’s letter. “You don’t see fancy little things like this around. ‘Specially when it ain’t even ‘ya birthday. And now you’re gettin all defensive-”

“Because I woke up to you going through my stuff dipshit. ”

Mammon smirked and looked closer at the letter, “So you don’t care if I read it?”

“Put it down!” Asmo screeched, lunging from the mattress to his older brother. Mammon cackled and held the letter above his head, while pushing Asmo back with his other arm. He let out a whistle, eyes quickly scanning over the page.

“ Woooow . You gotta lil’ Romeo on your hands right here!” Mammon mused. Asmo could feel his face start to heat up, especially when Mammon started to clear his throat, “Your eyes sparkle and outshine all of the stars in the sky, your lips curl up in the most perfect of arcs-”

“Quit it Mammon! Give it back!” Asmo felt like he was in middle school again. Why couldn’t Mammon just grow up? Seriously! Asmo wasn’t sure whether he was going to die of embarrassment or spend the rest of his life in jail for reenacting the story of Cain and Abel.

Mammon lowered the letter just a bit, “This fella really likes you  a lot, big brother Mammon might just have to get the bat out.”

Asmo growled and lunged towards the letter, scratching Mammon in the process.

“Ow! Hey! Keep those claws away from me!”

“Give me my letter back and I won’t tear your eyes out!” He was holding back only slightly. The last thing he wanted to do was tear one of his precious letters. Each one was special, he could let harm come to a single one of them.

Asmo followed Mammon’s gaze as he looked over to the corner of the room. Asmo didn’t realize he could have become even more livid. His things were upturned, all of his letters and little gifts sprawled out on the floor. “They the person that gave you all of those as well? What? Can’t you bring ‘em home to meet your family? Or are they talkin you outta lettin us meet ‘em?”

Oh now Mammon wanted to play the part of protective big brother. First, he came in and started rooting through his room. Second, he rudely woke Asmo up. Thirdly, he started reading Asmo’s private letters. And now he wants to integrate him? No. Absolutely not. No way.

“For your information, I don’t know who they are, hence them signing off the letters with Secret ,” Asmo huffed, snatching his letter back, trying to crinkle it as little as possible. “And if you even think about telling anyone, especially if you let it slip to our dearest older brother, I swear Mammon-”

“Okay. Okay! Cool it, why would I ever tell anyone?”

Asmo narrowed his eyes.

“Alright, I wouldn’t tell anyone on purpose .”

That was reassuring. Asmo smoothed out the letter and carefully inspected it for any tears or serious crinkles before going to reorganize his gifts. Small candies, a small bunny keychain, cute things that Asmo would enjoy. Mammon watched him for a moment, shifting from side to side. Asmo was happy he didn’t try to take a step closer. He wanted a little bit of space.

“Hey,” Mammon finally said as Asmo went to rehide his things in a drawer close to his bed, “I’m sorry alright? I just want to know what’s  goin on with you guys. You aren’t always open with things ya know.”

“Neither are you.”

“Touche.”

Mammon ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, “Ya don’t have to worry about me goin and telling Lucifer a’ight? Promise.”

Asmo raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, “And going through my room?”

“Can’t promise you that I won’t do that.”

Asmo sighed. Well, at least he knew he wouldn’t go telling Lucifer…  Not that he would in the first place. But if he did, he could always use Mammon going through their rooms as a deflection. Although he wasn’t sure how well that would hold up, or how long it would hold Lucifer’s focus (if it even did in the first place).

“I only do it ‘cus, I wanna know what’s going on in your life.” Mammon mumbled, “And if this asshole hurts ya, I wanna know! ‘Cus no one hurts any of the Great Mammon’s little brothers!”

Asmo sighed, “Well there are better ways to figure out what I’m up to. Like asking me.” Although, the second half did earn a little snort out of him. Even if Mammon could be a complete asshole sometimes, he did still look out for them. Just like how he’d confront bullies for them as kids.

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t scare them off before I get to know them.”

Honestly. Lucifer’s energy had been enough to make most of his past lovers almost behave (at least when he was around). He’d always sat them down, made sure they understood how his little brothers should be treated even if it made Asmo want to die of embarrassment. If Mammon had been in the same position, all of those partners would have left. Whether it would have been out of fear or from no longer wanting any part in Asmo’s family he would never know nor did he wish to find out.  

Asmo made his way over to his dresser and plopped down. Well, he was awake now. No point in trying to go back to bed, so he might as well get ready. “If you don’t mind brother dearest, I think I’m going to get ready.”

“You goin somewhere?”

“Studying with Solomon if you must know.”

“Ahhh. Studying gotchu.”

“Solomon’s not that type of guy, now shut up and get out.”

“Love you too my dear little brother.”

Maybe he shouldn’t let Mammon go with his secret. It really did seem like a bad idea, his brother walking around with his secret. Sure he had trusted Satan with his secret, but Mammon? Well Mammon had found out on his own, unfortunately. Even if it left a bad taste in his mouth, he had other things to worry about now. He had places to be.

*******

Solomon’s apartment was nice, and he didn’t have to worry about his brothers interfering or being distracting. Not to mention, the living room was also filled with natural light, which not only made it bright but warm as well.

If any situation outside of parties showed how much Asmo struggled with the concept of personal space, it was having his work sessions with Solomon. He never had a problem when it was an assignment that had to do with his designs, but whenever it was something that strayed from his beloved focus his head was on Solomon’s shoulder and he was whining.

“Solomon,” he huffed, putting his laptop down and slumping against him, “This assignment doesn’t even make sense. How am I supposed to write a new groundbreaking paper when everything that could of been said has already been said? Solomon this class doesn’t make any sense.”

He could feel Solomon’s chuckle rumble through his chest. It was a really was a nice sound, like distant thunder. “You didn’t have to take this class with me you know. It’s part of my degree, it’s just credits for you,” he said, placing his things to the side and placing Asmo’s laptop on his lap..

“Demonology sounded really interesting, and you made it sound fun,” he pouted, “Besides, the class is interesting enough. I just hate these stupid papers.”

“I’ll read over it for you, don’t worry.” He always did.

Asmo watched over his shoulder as he made little notes in the margin. He was comfortable next to Solomon. Honestly he hoped that Secret would be okay with him doing things like this. Or that he could do things like this with Secret…. Or that Solomon was Secret.

No.

Nope.

He shouldn’t go there. Solomon was his best friend. He wasn’t going to think of him like that, even if he was cute, and smart, and funny, and attractive…

Even if the best relationships sprouted between the closest of friends….

He really needed to change the subject.

“Is it too late to drop out? I could become a stripper.”

Solomon turned to look at him, eyebrow quirked. He let out a soft hum, letting his eyes look over Asmo for just a second. Then he nodded, “You’d make a cute stripper.”

Asmo’s face turned red, “No! You’re not supposed to say that! You’re my best friend. You’re supposed to either talk about how I should stay in school or that you’d drop out too and join me!” Not compliment how cute he was . While Asmo enjoyed it, it wasn’t what Solomon was supposed to say. Maybe he was joking, but Asmo would think of it as a genuine compliment. “I already know I’d make a cute stripper,” he mumbled.

Like Solomon thought of his body like that. Even if it was true.

“Ah. You’re right. I’m sorry. You’d make a horrible stripper. Stay in school. Don’t drink. Don’t do drugs. More words of wisdom and whatnot.”

“ Solomon .”

Of course he could have pulled his face away. He could move to the opposite side of their workspace and stay there. But he didn’t. Asmo stayed curled up where he was,face partially buried in the fabric of Solomon’s shirt, his cologne flooding his senses. Solomon’s smug smirk was still plastered to his face, but his eyes were trained on Asmo’s paper. He had no right to be so smug, especially when Asmo’s entire body was heating up and he was starting to pout.

Sometimes Solomon could drive him more crazy than his brothers could ever dream of doing. But it was a different type of crazy. A type of crazy that made him want to tackle Solomon to the couch and-

“Pardon me.”

Asmo lifted his head slightly,  to turn and look at Simeon. He was holding a tray of cupcakes in his hands. They were pretty. Icing swirled to near perfection in different pastels and covered in shiny white chocolate pearls. Simeon didn’t often intrude on their study sessions. Sometimes he would join for a bit, but he didn’t want to be a distraction. Well, that and he had to look after Luke.

Speaking of Luke, the kid was not too far behind Simeon, looking anywhere but at Asmo and Solomon.

“I do hope I’m not interrupting, but Luke thought you both might like a cupcake. He made them himself.”

“I had some extra,” Luke clarified, “They have a lemon cream filling.”

Simeon set the tray on the table and Solomon nodded, “Thank you Luke, I’m sure that they’ll be wonderful.” Asmo nodded in agreement. That was another perk of working at Solomon’s. There was always some sort of wonderful treat waiting. The kitchen always smelled like a bakery.

He watched as Solomon reached over him and towards the tray for one of the treats, quickly followed by Asmo’s own hand. They lightly brushed together for just a moment, but Asmo was quick to take one of the cupcakes and yank his hand back.

Simeon’s eyes were fixed to them the entire time.

“Solomon.”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to take Luke to the library. We may be out for a while. Remember to lock the door if you go out?” His eyes flickered between the two of them for a moment. Before settling on Solomon. The look he gave Solomon was unreadable to Asmo.

“Alright, have fun,” Solomon smiled, turning back to Asmo’s paper.

Simeon smiled and nodded, “We will, it was good seeing you Asmo." With that, Simeon turned, graceful as ever, and left with Luke.

Asmo’s nose crinkled, “What was that about?”

“Luke made cupcakes.”

“No no. That look Simeon gave you.”

Solomon leaned back and licked a bit of the icing from the cupcake, “Oh. I don’t know. Maybe I forgot to lock the door last time.”  He wasn’t looking at Asmodeus, gaze transfixed on the wall. Weird.  “Anyways, I think your paper looks fine. There’s just a few things I’d change, but I think it hit everything it needed to.”

Asmo smiled, a little more relaxed now about the assignment. He trusted Solomon’s judgement. Finally Asmo took a bit of his own cupcake. The cake was soft and moist, and Luke’s homemade icing and filling were both so fluffy and light. He couldn’t help but let out a soft moan. It was just too good. On more than one occasion he considered asking if he could move in, just so he could get little treats like this on a daily basis.

The sound of Solomon clearing his throat snapped Asmo out of his sweet-induced trance and over to his friend. Solomon had moved on and was now staring intently down at one of his textbooks. However, he didn’t miss the slight coloration in Solomon’s face.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just… Something in the book.”

“Ooh can I see?” Asmo scooted closer and tried to peak over into the pages below. However, Solomon quickly snapped the book shut and held it out of Asmodeus’ grasp.

“Nope. It’s gone now.”

“Aw come on, please Solomon? If it made you all blushy it must be good!” Asmo asked. He wasn’t about to let himself be left out from whatever spicy romance lied within the book Solomon was trying to keep from him.  Solomon stood little chance against his friend, who  was practically- no, not practically - who was climbing on top of him.

“Asmodeus!” Solomon’s voice cracked as he fell over, still trying to hold the book over his head as Asmodeus fell on top of him laughing. One arm wrapped around Asmo’s waist in an attempt to keep him away from the book.

“Come on Solomon!” he giggled, reaching for the book, only for it to be flung to the other side of the room and hitting the wall with a soft thud.  Asmo huffed and went to stand to scurry after the book, only to be stopped by Solomon sitting up, both arms around him. “Oh you are such a child.”

“I’m the child?” Solomon snorted, “You’re the one who can’t let it go.”

“I call it persistence and knowing what I want. Now let me see!”

Asmo  felt himself try to wiggle out of Solomon’s arms, only to be met with more resistance from him. “Well I don’t even remember what page it was on so you’re just gonna have to forget about it,” he huffed, throwing his body weight against Asmo and sending him to the floor and making him yelp ever so slightly.

“Owwwww, Solomon! That hurt.”

“Ah, sorry.” Solomon sat up but only slightly, he looked worried, hand moving to the side of Asmodeus’ head. “Are you okay?”

Asmo’s breath caught in his throat. The sun from the window outlined him in such a heavenly way. Each shadow on his face traced his strong jaw and cheekbones.He felt his hand stroke through his hair, feeling along his skull.

Asmo never let anyone touch his hair after he styled it.

“Any pain? Are you dizzy?”

“Ah… No…”

Well, not dizzy in the way Solomon was thinking. What could he say? What could he do? Well he could tell Solomon to get off, if he ever found his voice….

Then Solomon’s thumb swiped across his lips, and brought it up to his own mouth.

Icing.

“You could have just told me,” Asmo huffed, propping himself up on his elbows

Solomon was back on his haunches now, wrapped up in the icing, “What? Luke makes good icing.” Asmodeus rolled his eyes and shoved at Solomon’s chest.

“You’re insufferable.”

“Not insufferable enough for you to stop spending time with me,” Solomon chuckled. He got off of Asmodeus and helped him sit up, hands lingering just a little longer than necessary. Then the silence took over again.

It wasn’t the same silence as before though. This time it was a bit more awkward, filled with shifting bodies and uncertainty over what to say next. Asmo’s attention went to his phone. After all, social media made for a wonderful distraction. Flipping to the camera, Asmo decided to look over his appearance. He definitely needed to fix his hair. The lighting was amazing here.

“Wanna take a picture?”

Solomon perked up at the sudden break in the silence and looked at the two of them in the camera. “Do you wanna take a picture?” he asked, chest nudging against Asmo’s back. Asmo ignored the fluttering occurring deep within him, even if it was a nice feeling.  He would be a liar if he said he didn’t lean back into his touch.

“Just pick up one of the cupcakes and hold it up,” Asmo instructed, “It’ll be cute, trust me. Plus showing off my future number one model could be a good marketing strategy.”

Asmo felt Solomon’s chin rest on his shoulder as he tried to find the right angle to take the photo at. “You know, you keep posting pictures like this and people might start thinking I’m a little more than a ‘best friend’ or ‘model’,” he said, resisting the temptation to start digging into the second cupcake.

“And who cares what they think?”

Even as Asmo said it, his stomach sunk a little. Well, maybe Solomon cared if people thought they were together. They were just friends. That was it. Maybe there was someone Solomon liked, someone he wanted to  impress, and Asmo was ruining his chances by taking photos like these. Solomon had gone along with (most of) his ideas for most of the time they’d been together. Maybe he was just too nice to say no to Asmo’s little ideas. Maybe-

“Hey.” Solomon was looking at him, “Are you going to take it?” His face was a lot closer than Asmo realized.

“Oh! Yeah, yes, sorry. Just trying to find the right angle… There!”

Click.  

They both stared at the photo for a moment, Asmo more than aware of how Solomon hadn’t left his position. “I like it. You were right. It’s nice.”

Solomon had the nicest, sweetest smile he’d ever seen on another person.

“Are you going to post it?”

How did he always look so relaxed ?

But before Asmo  could reply, a notification popped up on his phone. Then another and another and another and-

He was used to his phone blowing up, but he hadn’t even posted the picture yet. Looking deeper into the source, he found that they were all from his brothers, mainly Mammon and Levi. Slowly Asmo clicked on the notification.

L3vi : You have a girlfriend?

Mammoney : Asmo I’m sorry

L3vi : Or boyfriend?

Mammoney : Please don’t kill me

L3vi : Why did you tell Mammon and not me? That’s not fair!

Mammoney : I didn’t mean to-

L3vi : I read a manga with a plot like this once-

Mammoney : It just kinda came out

L3vi : I know the perfect way to figure out who this is!

Mammoney : Asmo?

He wanted to scream. He put his phone down, ignoring the rest of the notifications. Yeah. He should have killed Mammon earlier. It hadn’t even been a full twenty-four hours. The only thing he could be thankful for was that he didn’t tell Lucifer… As far as he knew.

Asmo was going to kill him.

“I thought your brothers didn’t know.”

Solomon’s voice brought Asmodeus back to reality, it didn’t stop his fuming, but it did bring him back to where he was.  “They didn’t,” he hissed, “Well, I mean I told Satan, but he was going to be the only one to know. Mammon certainly wasn’t supposed to know and-” Asmo’s words dissolved into a groan. His study session with Solomon had been going so well too. They’d been productive... for the most part.

He flopped onto Solomon’s shoulder and let out a whine. “Just let me move in with you please!” he whimpered, “I promise I won’t bother Simeon and Luke too much and you know I’m neat and clean. My brothers are going to drive me to an early grave, or worse, give me wrinkles .”  

Solomon snorted which only made Asmodeus’ pout deepen. “Rude. This is a very serious matter.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a tad overdramatic?”

All Asmo did was cross his arms in response. Solomon sighed and looked down at Asmodeus. “Well… I can’t say that there’s space for you to move in-”

“Not even the couch? Or sharing a bed?”

Solomon held up his finger, “But, I can walk you home. If you’d like. I can be your human shield and protect you from your brothers.”

Asmo thought for a moment, arms uncrossing and fingers playing with the hem of Solomon’s sleeve. Having Solomon walk him home could be the next best thing (aside from just spending the night), and he would be able to distract himself from the dread and embarrassment that awaited him back home. Walking back home with Solomon was always nice regardless. Who didn’t like to spend more time with their best friend?

Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group.  (sharing here Admin approved)

https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/

Hello Ciule and welcome to Behind the Quill, thank-you for sitting down with us for a chat.

SS/HG readers might be familiar with your stories “Awkward” and “Headmaster’s Wife”. 

Okay, let’s jump right in. What's the story behind your pen name? Well, I sort of took one of my real names, swirled the letters around in the air with my imaginary wand, and I ended up with this. Can’t begin to imagine where I got the idea from... ;-) Later on, I realized that Ciule is actually a name in Romania. I had no idea, but there are people out there carrying this name for real. I guess I’m #sorrynotsorry?   Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most? To be quite frank: No one, really. This is more about the characters I like, than truly identifying with them. I can relate to parts of some of them, but not the whole package. Primarily, I write about Hermione, Voldemort and Severus, and the one common thread between those three is the search for knowledge. That’s a trait I can identify with, but I’m neither an evil bastard, a grumpy protector nor a fretting, intelligent activist. I am, however, a swot. If you had asked who I’d want to be, the answer is clear. I want to be Albus Dumbledore. Though I can’t agree with the things he did, I feel absolutely certain that he’s the one who has the most fun during the books. I want to have that twinkling fun in face of absolute chaos.   Do you have a favourite genre to read (not in fic, just in general)? Fantasy! Definitely fantasy. While growing up, I read ‘everything’ in every genre, and in my twenties, I decided I’d spend my time reading what I loved the most. So, fantasy it is. Do you have a favourite "classic" novel? You landed me in an existential crisis right there. I mean, there’s so many to choose from! ‘Wuthering Heights’, I think. It hurts so good. Or maybe ‘Rebecca’, at least, I loved that when I was younger. Or the fairly obscure ‘Lorna Doone.’ When I was a kid, I wanted to be a film director, shooting Lorna Doone into an epic film. Oh well, there might be a theme in this selection of books which reflects in my writing… At what age did you start writing? The creative process has gone on since forever. I’ve told myself thousands of stories in my head, but rarely written anything down. At the age of ten, I had a co-writing project with one of my friends. We created this secret room in her basement, and painstakingly wrote a ‘novel’. It was fun, though the writing ended as it became too cold down in the basement during winter. How did you get into writing fanfiction? In 2009, I became completely obsessed with a TV-show in the last episode. I was watching the entire series, casually enjoying the murder mystery, and in the last episode, the villain said: “I can do the math,” and I was literally gone. That obsession sparked writing my first fanfic stories. Those stories are still on FFnet, but they aren’t any good. *shrugs* What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works? Compromise. The world isn’t a perfect place, and will never be. You can, however, make it more to your liking. It may not be perfect, but if you play the cards you are dealt, you might improve something. In Robert Jordan’s “the Wheel of Time”-series, one of the characters goes through a test in a parallel universe of sorts, and she thinks: “The world was not what she wanted, not anywhere near it.” I loved that: trying your best to make things as you want them to be in the face of dangers and difficulties.   And then there’s time travel! I love messing with time, and there are so many great Time-travelling fics. Plus, I have to say I have a certain love for the villains...   What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter? Currently, I’m not writing for any other fandoms. I read Star Wars, GoT, POTO and LOTR, and in the past I read Smallville. Though it’s more of a type of ship for me, because I only read Reylo, SanSan, Erik/ Christine, Lex/Lana and ….drum roll… the extremely small and quite oddball ship of Eowyn/ Grìma Wormtongue. If you’ve never tried the last one, go search for the fantastic stories by auri_mynonys. If you could make one change to canon, what would it be? Do you have a favourite piece of fanon? One change: duh, that’s easy, isn’t it? Severus lives. Or, maybe Dumbledore acting more rational, not keeping so many secrets. Maybe telling McGonagall that Severus is on the Order’s side… (Interviewer is laughing - ”NOT so easy”) I do write Voldemort wins AUs, but I wouldn’t want canon Voldemort to win. I prefer him to be more sane than in canon. My absolute favourite piece of fanon has to be the Black library. I thought it was canon, but it’s not. This is a thing that really, really should exist in canon! Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet? I’m very much inspired by music, and sometimes I listen as I write, but not always. Some fics are heavily inspired by music, such as ‘Absence’ and the last epilogue to ‘The Manipulation of Time and Matter’. What are your favourite fanfictions of all time? Definitely ‘Two Steps from Hell,’ by the amazing Ssserpensssotia, but that’s a Volmione. This was such a wild ride, I felt like I was on the edge of my seat, holding my breath the entire time. Those twists and turns were so unpredictable and … Well, I’m in awe. The SS/HG fandom is so massive, there’s a plethora of great stories out there. The unfinished ‘Self-Slain Gods on Strange Altars’ is a wonderful story by scumblackentropy, and I love Slytherpoufs stories, especially the wip ‘Ghosts’, but also ‘Angels to Fly’. And then there’s the one that got away - it means, I can’t find it. In this story, Severus watches the thestrals, befriending one of them, I think, but they’re unpredictable and maybe even dangerous. He’s heartbroken, and knows how it all will go down, having bitterly accepted his role. It made me cry. And then there’s the works by Aurette, and lena1987, Subversa, Kittenshift… Are you a plotter or a pantser? How does that affect your writing process? I need (strike that: want) to draft the entire story before I post, to have some idea on how it goes. That makes it easier to write, but if it’s a long story, I’m happy as long as I know the general direction. This year, I finished a story that was on an unintended hiatus for two years, and I think part of my problem on getting back into writing it up was a too vague idea for the ending.   What is your writing genre of choice? Uh. I don’t know? Basically, you could argue that I’m a porn writer, or at least it’s fuelled by sexual tension and angst. So, romance or drama, bordering on erotica might be correct. To be frank, I haven’t really thought about categories after I started posting on AO3. Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why? Hard to say. I might go with “the Manipulation of Time and Matter,” because I think it’s the best plot I’ve created. Besides, I managed to write Hermione having a relationship with both Severus and Voldemort in the same fic. My favourite “clean” SSHG would be the short story ‘Grimmauld’. Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote? What did you learn from writing it? In Grimmauld, the house became a character. That was unexpected, and not something I had planned from the beginning. So the lesson would be “don’t start posting until you know what’s going to happen.” Or else, this story might have turned out very much different. I had to throw in a little made-up lore on how you set blood wards on a house too to make it sentient. That proved to be a quite chilling piece of magic.   How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write? I love old houses. Exploring abandoned houses, going inside to see what remains of furniture, tapestries and everything is so exciting. (It can also be dangerous, but that’s another matter). Such houses makes me feel .. nostalgic, plus I get those nice little shivers down your spine that is a little like a horror story. So, I wanted to use Grimmauld as a setting to explore that in a fic, to really dig into the aching loneliness of a lost house. The story came very quickly to me, so I guess that helped me.   What books or authors have influenced you? How do you think that shows in your writing? Big question there. Hmm, I think … it’s hard to say. I’m a reader, really, and I couldn’t easily pick apart any influences. Though I have to say that one of the things I enjoyed when reading ‘Two Steps From Hell’ was the attention to magic. I think it’s important to include spells, rituals and the use of magic in my fics, because that’s what sets it apart from a Muggle AU, for example. That’s an important part of the world-building.   Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction? My significant other knows. I didn’t tell him, but he found out for himself, probably by spying on me. When he told me, I almost couldn’t stop laughing, because he… erm, he said he had thought about reenacting a scene in my PWP ‘Twenty Points to Gryffindor’, where Severus shouts the title as he… well… you get the gist. If he had done that, I’d have had a heart attack. I would literally be dead. Instead, I laughed non stop for an hour.   How true for you is the notion of "writing for yourself"? Haha, so true. You spend all those hours in front of your laptop - and if I wasn't motivated by doing it for myself, I can’t even see how I’d force myself through all those hours. It’s fun, though. I do this because I love it.   How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media? Very important. I'm on the publishing sites (visible interaction is why I prefer AO3 instead of FFnet) and on Facebook, mainly. I love feedback (as all authors do), and when people form theories or make comments, I get an insight into my own writing. I know how it’s going to pan out, but the audience doesn’t, and how they perceive things might be different from how I think it is. At times, it influences how I go forward, mostly because I need to add things, to explain what’s going on. What is the best advice you've received about writing? Don’t post until you know the ending, and remember: the devil on your left shoulder will be at war with the angel on the right side. Listen to the angel telling you to wait a little longer, and not to the devil chanting: ‘Post, post, post!’ In the end, of course, you’ll give in to the devil, regretting it until you’re done. What do you do when you hit writer's block? Read. Read a lot. And read some more. Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing? Certainly. I’m a foodie. For example, everything that Voldemort eats is stuff I love. His food habits are primarily mine, and I love cooking.   Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser? It’s a short piece, maybe three or four chapters, with the title ‘Transference’. The point of departure from canon is during their time in the tent at DH. Hermione wakes up in a bed, in a room she doesn’t recognize, having no idea where she is, but she spots a large, moving picture on the drawer:  Feeling panic rising, she stared hard at the moving and smiling pictures, and her heart leapt into her throat, pulse hammering as she recognized herself in the largest picture. A slightly older Hermione, in a white wedding dress, kissing and laughing at someone who simply had to be a much younger Severus Snape. It had to be him: Long black hair, hooked nose, sallow skin - but then he looked so young, carefree and happy - expressions she had never seen on her dour Professor's face. Beside the picture, there were numerous cards, greetings and well-wishings for their wedding - the date an impossible 21 August 1982, and amongst the cards, the largest one stood out, the black ink showing an elegant handwriting: “Dear Hermione and Severus! Best wishes for your wedding, Lord Voldemort.” Any words of encouragement to other writers? Read and write, in that order. Don’t worry about trolls, because when you contribute something that you created, it makes you so much more than people spending their time just raining on anyone’s parade. You brought something new to the world, they’re just reacting to things. If someone accuses you of a self-insert, go ahead and lecture them on the intentional fallacy. I promise, you won’t regret looking it up. ;-)   And please, mind the normal physical limits when you’re writing smut. Unless you give the male a stamina potion or put him under the Imperius, it’s unlikely that his refractory period allows him to come five times in one hour. Realistic smut is so much more sexy, lol. Thanks again for speaking with us Ciule.

rasping, murmuring;

a/n. 500 followers! we popping bottles!

ship. hitoshi shinsou x reader

summary. magical cat au. or perhaps, the princess and the frog au.

//

it was a friday when a particularly unruly haired stray began to appear on the balcony of your apartment at a regular basis. it hardly ever made sound, but certainly it did startle you the first time you threw open the curtains and saw a cat staring intently up at you, unmoving.

of course, you were stricken. distraught, as to whether to pet the cat, to feed the cat, or to let the cat in. the possibilities were endless. you didn’t dare to do any of these things the first few visits, however, in case the stray was just passing by as swiftly as it came.

but it wasn’t. weirdly enough, it appeared on your balcony and rested quietly nearly every day for an hour or so before leaping away. and it always seemed to stare through the glass and into your apartment, as if fascinated by the interior. you always stared forlornly back from the inside.

a week passes before you find yourself kneeling in front of this stray, finally finding the hubris to reach out. “please,” you say aloud, “please let me pet you.”

the cat says nothing in return. its long, dark fur, you realize, is not blue but actually a shade of purple.

its paws remained tucked underneath its body, so you allow your fingers to cautiously pet its head, your palm traveling down its spine. for a stray, its fur is surprisingly immaculate and silky and immediately you wonder if you’ve been misunderstanding it all along.

“are you someone’s pet?” you muse, more to yourself than to the cat as you reach towards the neck for a collar but all the same, it appears to reply.

the cat lifts its chin up, exposing its chest and— well, lack of collar.

instead of ushering the cat in, you leave the door open. it hurts a little when he continues to leave instead but one day, it crosses the threshold with a meow.

this cat, as you find out for the next few weeks, is not like any other cat you’ve ever met. and you’re not just saying this because it is your roommate now.

from what you can determine (you’re no cat expert but you think you’re adequately qualified for this), it’s biologically male and you hope that for the time being, the cat won’t mind being referred to with male pronouns.

you don’t immediately bring him to the vet for one reason alone and it was that he acted so human, really. you suspected he, at the very least, used to be a house pet because his mannerisms were explicitly clean sometimes, from the way he relished in baths and when he refused to eat neither dry nor wet cat food. 

you’ve resorted to feeding him chicken and the occasional tuna and at each meal he blinks up at you, slow and theatric, as if giving thanks.

but most other times, he is very much a cat, flexing his claws into your clothes and on your skin when you aren’t giving him proper attention.

“agh,” you say, “that hurts.” it doesn’t really but it always makes him retract his claws and you feel like a cat whisperer. how did he always respond so keenly to your verbal remarks? it was all very odd to think about how smart this cat really was.

and you could never settle on an actual name. you’ve settled with addressing him exclusively as baby boy or bastard child, depending on your mood.

lying on the floor one day, you scoop him up and set him on your chest. “baby,” you say, holding his paws. “baby boy. you’re really freakin’ heavy, you know that?”

he settles on your chest, mewling demurely at the soft rise and fall from your breathing. his fur tickles your neck as he dips his head forward, bumping his forehead on your chin.

you laugh, then wheeze when he withdraws and haphazardly uses your rib cage as a launchpad to leap over your head. you roll onto your side promptly, in fear he’ll try that shit again. but all he does is lazily come back to view, dark eyes blown wide as he pads close. he blinks slow at you, just watching.

suddenly not fearing his wrath, you pull forward to kiss his forehead. but at the same moment, he yawns and at the collide, there is suddenly a horrifying roughness on your lips as he licks them, his nose pressing into your philtrum.

you roll away with a gag, and for the very first time, you hear a distinctly disturbed and loud mrowl.

“what the fuck,” you say, rubbing your lips profusely, hoping you didn’t obtain some kinda funky disease. after all, he was a cat roaming the streets just over two months prior. you begin to deeply regret not scheduling a vet appointment like you should have. 

trying your best to refrain from licking your lips, you pull yourself upright and cross legged, still facing away from your cat. “cat,” you say, “i’m gonna hope to whatever higher deity up there that you did not just give me ringworm.”

he stays silent and you presume he’s just as peeved to what has just occurred.

you sigh. “alright, well, i’m going to the bathroom,” you declare.

when you pivot around to get up, you let out an abrupt shout and quite possibly another expletive but you’re not certain which one because your mind is racing and the concern of contracting ringworm vanishes to make space for more pressing matters.

there, backed up against the wall, some guy is looking himself over, a mystified and tense expression pulled on his face. his hair is an unruly purple.

and he’s naked.

but you can’t look away out of respect because what if he attacks? plus, you don’t respect home invaders.

he glances up at the sound of your shout and his eyebrows knit as you launch yourself at the kitchen table, scrabbling for the candleholder.

“no, wait—“ you hear him say and his voice is deep and pressing.

you brandish the metal candleholder at him, hoping desperately this flasher isn’t all that strong even if he is a bit broad. and tall. if only you could find your phone. “do not come near me,” you utter, waving it around wildly.

“please... please put that down,” he rasps as he stands. his hands fly up to his throat as if his own vocal cords stun him.

“sit back down!”

he does just that and all you can do is gawk. a stalker? when the hell did he enter? you don’t dare glance away for too long but your eyes flutter to the balcony, then to your front door. was he watching you from somewhere? while you were playing with your cat?

your cat.

“where is my cat.”

he lets out a breath. “okay, listen— this will sound unbelievable but i—“

“don’t say you’re my cat,” you say testily, your brain still whirring but you refuse— you refuse to believe this. but his eyes are a familiar dark and you can’t forget that voluminous purple fur. you, in opposition, suck in a breath.

“baby boy,” he says without warning and a feeling of horror pulses through you. “or bastard. that’s what you called me, right?” he makes this comment pointedly, with indifference to the nicknames but all the same they fill you with embarrassment. your instinct is to go straight into denial.

“now wait a moment—“

he tilts his head, his gaze almost palpable. “do you remember— and i’m certain you do— when you kept trying to train me to shake hands? that was fun: messing with you, refusing to obey.”

you continue to stare in silence. the candleholder slowly drops to your side.

“still don’t believe me?” he asks with a scoff and that seems to sober you up, the exasperation in his voice like he’s seriously tired that you don’t trust him. this was the oddest home invasion ever.

“okay, listen up magic mike,” you say. “if—“

“my name is hitoshi.”

you didn’t even consider the idea of him having a name. your eyes thin out. “if you are my cat, then— then are you even human? are you some kind of shapeshifter? don’t tell me you’re going to have to steal my identity now.” at this point you’re just rambling because glancing around the room, you don’t see your purple beast of a cat anywhere.

“no,” he says affirmatively to get through your spiraling. “no, i’m not a shapeshifter. i’m human; and i was cursed.”

you gape. “that’s even worse!” you say, and your fingers touch your lips. “did you pass it onto me? man, fuck you—“

“could you please listen before drawing conclusions?” he says. “are you a cat right now? tell me.”

“... no.”

“there’s your answer,” he mutters.

“wow. i’m having a hard time believing you because my cat was nice to me.”

“your cat couldn’t speak.”

“i think i liked it better than way. can you turn back? actually, don’t— i won’t be able to look at you the same way.” you wipe a hand over your face and think. “i need to process all of this.”

he shrugs. “take your time. it won’t change the reality that we’ve been living in the same apartment for the past two months.” 

either he was an incredible actor slash stalker with an incredibly bizarre gimmick or... he was telling the truth. both alternatives made you a bit queasy. there is a long, long silence before either of you move again.

eyeing him warily, you set your makeshift weapon down and walk towards the couch. “we’ve got to get you some clothes. this was okay when you were furry but i can’t have a full time nudist in my home.”

“so you trust me now?” he asks and you reflect.

“there are some discrepancies. like, my cat slept for like twenty hours a day, and you look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“i’m not tired; this is just my face,” he grouses, but touches the area underneath his eyes. 

you tsk. “well. fine. whatever. we’ve got all the time in the world to sort this out, anyway.”

hitoshi blinks and it’s fast for once, leaving you wondering if you misspoke.

“what?” you say uneasily.

“am i staying here?”

“oh. did you want to leave?”

“no,” he admits, and more stiffly, “i just didn’t think you’d let me stay.”

“you think i’d want you to waltz out without giving me any answers? plus, i spent ages, hitoshi, ages trying to get you into my house in the first place.” you take the blanket that drapes over the couch and pass it to him, your cheek turned away. “it was exhausting how bad i wanted you. that sounds off but you know what i mean.”

he takes it with two hands. “all you had to do was ask. i can’t read your mind.”

your eyes snap back to hitoshi, who wraps the blanket around his waist like a towel and follows you to the kitchen table. “i left the door open. i gave you tuna. for a week. how obvious did i have to be? should i have tried to kiss you, right then and there?”

“maybe,” he says and you only snort. “but i didn’t know that was the cure.” he pauses, and takes a good look at your face. “you cured me,” he emphasizes.

you stop. “you didn’t? and i did? was that even considered a kiss?” all you knew was that your lips could’ve been exfoliated.

hitoshi shakes his head. “i was... i was fully prepared to stay like that, i guess. with you, the person i l—” he stops himself, confusion flooding his visage. “the person who i decided i’d live with.”

“uh huh,��� you say. “technically, you still can do that. i mean, i won’t let you mooch off me anymore though.”

“sure,” he murmurs. the strained look on his face comes and goes in a second and you question you even saw it and you can tell he’s mulling over thoughts about distant things and sentiments that you don’t quite understand.

not yet, that is. but those things don’t concern you at the moment— what’s much more pressing is getting that ringworm checked out. and what the hell to do with the cute, black collar that shipped yesterday. and the litter box.

corpse bride!AU??

i was like “wow i need a writing warm-up” and here’s this mess that i’m tentatively describing as “frozen meets chinese ghosty shit”

Rated T for vaguely violent allusions, i don’t know what ships endgame i just wrote it

Sabo was sure the older man wanted to kill him.

“Maybe he’s secretly in love with you,” Koala mused, scraping at the floating tea leaves with the lid of her cup. “Maybe he’s seen you walking past his window at the same time every morning, and has just become so smitten with you he wants to propose.”

“That’s absurd,” Sabo dismissed. “I would never keep to a schedule long enough to be tracked, you know that.”

They both knew that, and lived by the same set of rules. Today’s rendezvous, for instance, had been so well-masked that probably even Iva-san didn’t know when and where they were meeting.

Which, of course, just made it all the more worrisome that that man had found them.

“Does he think he’s being subtle?” Sabo said incredulously, stirring his soy latte with an errant chopstick he’s licked clean. The man—mid-thirties, less than 5cm taller than Sabo but a weight class up, blond, strange buzzcut, rich fabrics in outdated styles, matching belt and watch and shoes of fine imported leather, but functional soles with good all-surface grip, well-trained hands—hovered behind one of the brick walls that bordered the kissaten, obviously spying.

Koala, unbothered, started skinning the lemon slice perched on the edge of her ice tea with the tip of her steak knife.

“Maybe he’s a Marine—”

“Right. Wants to kill me.”

“—who’s secretly in love with you.”

Sabo squinted at her until she looked up and saw the soy mustache he’s purposely left on his upper lip. Her upper lip curled in mild disgust, but she persisted.

“Maybe he’s from a rival agency.”

“And secretly in love with me?”

“And wants to kill you.”

Sabo threw his hands up in exasperation. “Can’t you pick one?”

“Neither precludes the other,” was Koala’s wise determination, “when it comes to you.”

“You either,” Sabo growled, flipping out his own penknife in a mock-threatening gesture. Koala though, like a dick, swiped her steak knife sideways and smacked it into Sabo’s knife with a stage-whispered wa-POW!

And unlike Sabo, she hadn’t licked her used utensils clean before deploying to other use. It was Sabo’s turn to curl his lip in disgust, as meat grease transferred onto his personal blade with a smug grin from Koala.

“So what’s the plan?” She set down her knife, finally ready to get down to business. “Love him or kill him?”

“Kill him, obviously,” Sabo replied. He thought he saw the man’s fingers drum along the wall—in response? But how could he possibly have heard from this distance? Sabo kept his voice at the same volume and his body language casual. “You’re packing, right? We’ll shoot him dead right now.”

Koala obligingly got up, staring straight ahead at Sabo. The man behind the wall became a shadow, and then the shadow became just bright afternoon light; he’d gone.

Sabo immediately started surveying the patio around them.

“He was listening in?” Koala quickly picked up, glancing around as well. They were the only two people seated outside, and there weren’t any tin cans or amplifying containers lying around anywhere. “Maybe he just has really, really good ears?”

Beyond them, foghorns blared from the port, necessary even in the deep afternoon because there was rarely a moment when this seaside autonomous region wasn’t wrapped in thick condensation. A horse-drawn carriage rattled by, and for a moment, Sabo steeled himself to take cover, should a pistol be drawn up between the dark velvet curtains over the windows.

The carriage passed without incident, and both Sabo and Koala slowly relaxed back into their seats.

“Wow,” Sabo finally said, giving his drink a swirl. It had left his scope of vision for several minutes, and though the risk was relatively low, given the strange man’s unexplained ability to listen in on their conversation, Sabo still pushed the rest aside to be safe. “Supernatural hearing and secretly in love with me? Wherever did I find such a dreamboat?”

“In the big mansion up Moby Road,” Koala answered. Sabo stared. “Oh come on, you really didn’t recognize Edward Newgate’s son?  Their ears look exactly the same.”

“They’re not genetically related,” Sabo said slowly, to which Koala only shrugged.

“Yeah but their ears look exactly the same. Plus that carriage—the woodwork is all Tom-san, and you know where the last of Tom-san’s masterpieces are in this region.”

Giving himself a long moment to make his peace with the fact that Koala had put together all the pieces he didn’t even know were there, and in just less than a whole minute, Sabo closed his eyes and nodded.

“So, all we have to figure out is why Marco Newgate, two months after his very-famous father’s death, suddenly wants to kill me.”

//

“I’m in love with him.”

Thatch threw his tea towel at Marco’s face at high velocity.

“Stop lying,” he hissed in the face of Marco’s flat insistence. “Who the hell even is he, huh? What does he do? Where did you meet?”

“Sabo, twenty-four, on here on a visa from mainland but I’m still looking into the paper trail before that,” Marco replied automatically. It was fine to let Thatch know this. “For all intents and purposes, he’s a clerk at the Four Winds Trading Co. We haven’t exactly met.”

“Yet you’re in love with him.” Thatch rolled his eyes, which meant Marco rolled his eyes back, which meant Thatch threw a teaspoon this time.

“Don’t believe in love and first sight, Thatch?” Shanks laughed from the couch. In a gentlemanly fashion, Marco kindly refrained from picking up the teaspoon and hurling it at Shanks like a dart. He’s only been here for half an hour, and the bastard has cheerfully emptied half of Marco’s decanter of fine whiskey already. “I mean, it’s not like we didn’t know Marco’s type was lively young men with attitude problems.”

Marco picked up the teaspoon and hurled it at Shanks like a dart. Shanks, tumbler in hand, of course couldn’t catch it, and suffered the splashing of whiskey onto his pants with a displeased whine when he had to dodge.

“Precisely,” Marco said through gritted teeth. “I just fall so easily for young men with attitude problems. We’re hosting that party, and we’re gonna invite him.”

“Marco.” That was Thatch’s gentle voice, and that was Thatch’s I-know-you’re-hurt-about-Ace-and-Pops-we-all-are-so-let-me-help-you-process-your-grief-healthily face. The tea towel was shredded something fierce in Marco’s vicious grip. “Look, no one’s expecting you to go through with the engagement stuff, it’s only been two months for god’s sake—”

“This isn’t,” Marco lied, “about Ace.”

Neither men in the room believed him. That was fine; Marco didn’t need them to. All he needed was that invitation sent out, and the man named Sabo in Pop’s mansion, at his party.

“Thatch, I love him,” Marco pleaded, finding no need to specify the pronoun, and knowing Thatch was weak when it came to direct requests from him. “Please invite him.”

“I—” When distressed, Thatch had a habit of hovering around his tea trolley. Despite being the main chef of the house, he still insisted on personally making the rounds of tea for his siblings. Marco’s caught him doing random tests for poison more than once. He drummed his fingers against the push handle now, and groaned. “Fine, fine. I’ll do it. Oh man, I can’t believe you’re making me drag some poor sucker into this mess and won’t even tell me why.”

“It’ll be fine,” Marco replied softly. “Really. I swear.”

“Sure.” Thatch sounded neither believing nor sarcastic, and with one last sigh, he headed for the door with his trolley. “I’ll let you two get on with business then.”

After Marco’s made sure the door was shut and locked behind Thatch, he turned around to Shanks, whiskey finished, standing way too close.

“Buy my silence,” Shanks said, smile big and toothy when Marco took an involuntary step back. “For a thousand belli a month.”

“That’s different from your usual rate,” Marco made himself reply. The way his voice went strained though, still gave away far too much. But at least this time he didn’t flinch when Shanks approached further, that sharp gaze and scarred eye on Marco’s neck. “And your usual choice of currency.”

“Just for my silence,” Shanks pointed out. “And call it a friends and family discount. I have a feeling you’re about to ask for something you’ll already be hard-pressed to pay for, with our current agreement.”

“Then you can set new prices.” Shanks’ eyebrows lifted in surprise, but Marco didn’t avert his gaze. “I mean it. I’ll give you anything you want to get this done.”

They both knew how fallacious a way to do business this was, but Marco didn’t care. It’s not like he’d be worried about paying up on his debts after this; he and Shanks hashed that out ages ago. So Marco kept staring him down, until Shanks finally assented with a nod.

“This is about Ace,” Shanks had to say. Uselessly.

“And Sabo,” Marco admitted. One hand behind his back, Marco made sure the door was absolutely locked once again. As per a past deal, Shanks would make sure the door was completely soundproof too, upon locking. “So I’m not in love with him.”

“Yeah.” A smirk and a slow blink that substituted an eye roll. “I figured.”

Marco took a deep breath.

“I want to kill him.”

Hi boo. I first read „let sanji fuck“ and I was like Hell yeah! I should really start to read better 😄 anyways. Could I have hcs on Sanji, Kid, Marco and Law about how they would react if some other guys would hit on their girlfriend really aggressively and the gf feels clearly uncomfortable? Good luck with the blog ❤️

Heck yeah, let Sanji fuck works too. And sure thing you can! Thanks a lot for the warm welcome, cute nonnie! Hope these are good~!

Warnings: sexual harassment and stalking mentions. Always stay safe folks.

Sanji

Being the clingy type, Sanji is going to be very aware of whenever someone approaches his lover. As much as he hates to admit it (because it’s barely gentlemanly), he’s overcome with jealousy if other males start to hog her attention, but also trusts his s/o and will let her handle the situation if the newcomer seems innocent about his intentions. It’s just small chat, isn’t it?

He’s going to stay around just in case. Generally, straying too far from his lover can make him sulk deeply, and knowing that she’s in the company of another man doesn’t ease his sorrow in the slightest. He doesn’t care he’s pacing and his arms are full with grocery bags, and neither does he pay mind to the weird looks he gets from the pedestrians, watching over his s/o is his absolute priority.

Sanji is incredibly observant. It can take so little as a slight twitch of her brow or a low, awkward hum, but he’s already noticed that this guy isn’t good news. In fact, he won’t even let it go further from the initial discomfort: the asshole was breaking into her comfort bubble and Sanji already felt the need to kick him underground.

When he steps into the conversation, it’s going to be with nothing more than a sweet smile directed at his s/o. He knows she’s feeling alarmed, so the last thing he needs is to startle her anymore with the glint of a murderer in his eyes. He gently pulls her closer and starts to ask about her day, question if she felt like having something special for dinner, tell her about the nice clerk lady who had offered a discount on the milk because he had helped her find her cat… Just anything to comfort his lover and remind her that he’s right there next to her, and that no one is going to mess with her.

Isn’t above stepping towards the guy, smile turning forced and tight, and “thanking” him for keeping his lover company, but dismissing him because he’s clearly not needed anymore, nor will he be in any point in time. If his s/o hadn’t tugged at his vest to silently ask him to get going, he could have rubbed the butt of his cigarette in one of the bastard’s lecherous eyes.

He might find the guy and make him pay for putting his sweetheart through such a bad time, but he honestly forgets and can’t care less about him if, on the way back to the ship, she snuggles close to him. Bonus points if she takes one of the grocery bags (although not without some complaints from him) to free his hand… momentarily, because her plan is to hold it tight with her free own. Bonus bonus points if she praises him and calls him “her prince charming”, this boy is very in cloud nine.

Eustass Kid

Oh boy. Oh boy, what a brave little shit. This guy clearly wasn’t present when Kid set foot on the island with his arm slung over his s/o’s shoulders because if he had, he would know by now that the girl is very much not open for a stranger’s compliments. The only other possible option is that this man doesn’t value his life anymore, because Kid’s anger can be felt from miles away when he finds out.

Kid is one of the most possessive guys to be found across the wide seas and, while he doesn’t mind his s/o wandering around on her own account, he definitely does not appreciate someone chasing her pretty little ass. It was his lucky self’s, and what kind of man would he be if someone stole what is his right under his nose?

He only saw three things: the dude’s mouth by her ear, a hand forcefully groping her bottom and the mighty slap his lover delivered as a desperate means of self-defence, and quite frankly? Her outburst turned him on, but work comes before pleasure and his absolute job as a pirate is disintigrating the asshole on the spot.

Once he’s done with the miserable soul and only if the beaten body hasn’t been reduced to dust, he’s probably going to nail the corpse to the most visible building in the town and make everyone know that he does not like having his property toyed with, and that he isn’t nice enough to share. Kid expects his kind announcement to be first page on the next morning’s newspaper. What better way to let everyone in the world know who his s/o belongs to?

No one has had the balls to approach his lover again, but Kid likes to take extra measures. That is why whenever the Kid Pirates arrive at a new island, his s/o is going to visit the town exhibiting a pretty collection of red and purple love bites and scratches on her neck and thighs and back, and always at a safe distance and under his watch.

Kid might also teach her how to beat and crucify people in an excruciatingly slow way just in case she comes to need the skill. There’s nothing that he takes more pride in than seeing his babe knocking a pervert out cold and making him suffer for daring to place a hand on her. It’s one weight off his chest and – a plus! – he finds it incredibly hot in its own twisted way.

Marco

Marco is really chill about his s/o. Not the overly protective kind of partner, and enjoys having having space to breathe himself, so it’s only natural he’ll leave his s/o to her own devices as well. However, he insists on having her carry a Baby Den Den Mushi wherever she goes on her own. He’s at her beck and call whenever she needs him.

Knowing that a call meant something bad was happening, Marco is still perfectly capable of staying calm and answers with a playful “yo”. No matter her situation, first and foremost he wants to reassure her that there is nothing to be worried about, and what better way than being his playful self? He’s honestly a little relieved when she answers lightheartedly. He wants his babe to be radiant at all times.

When he said that he was just one ring away, he wasn’t kidding. He answers the call nearly immediatelly, and is there by her side even faster. Literally will fly towards her and just casually hop next to her, waiting for an update on the situation while he pulls her close.

If the sight of a fire blue bird isn’t enough to convince any stalker or harasser to back off, Marco is more than happy to kindly explain to this very annoying dude that his company wasn’t and would never be a necessity. A slight pat on the shoulder, a hearty laugh even. It’s all about manners, really (but the warning in his eyes probably had something to do with the way the man scurried away).

Treats her to something sweet afterwards because he’s so proud of how she stood strong in such a stressful situation, but also because he wants her to release the tension from her shoulders. It was a small scare, sure, but this big bird is always there to protect her, no questions asked. If she continues feeling a little down about the recent happening, he’s going to stain her face with chocolate and cream until she goes back to being cheerful cutie, slapping his hand away and laughing.

Okay, he does enjoy having some room to breathe, but he’s never ever going to turn down his s/o if she wants to stay close to him out of insecurity or fear. Holding his hand and keeping up some idle chatter, anything to have her comfortable and happy (or following him around like a lost tiny duckling, duck mom here is going to protect).

Trafalgar Law

There’s something that has stuck to Law from his childhood, and that is being an overprotective older brother. Well, lover in this case. It’s difficult to try to hit on his s/o when she’s literally next to him at all times, and also not wise: the long sword and tattoos spelling “death” should serve as enough warning. However, holding her hand in public is kinda out of the question, which is where the brainless flirt comes to play.

Law is far from amused when some guy appears out of nowhere to return a handkerchief that obviously didn’t belong to his s/o, if the shake of her head and the polite denial were anything to go by, but the man was relentless. He obviously couldn’t feel the daggers Law was glaring at him, otherwise he would have fled when Law’s lover first told him that the trick wasn’t going to work with her.

Honestly, Law doesn’t show the man much mercy, and decides that the best option is to chop his forearm off when he tries to catch his s/o’s hand and she jerks away, alarmed. Thanks to his ability, there was no real threat in the dismemberment, but the asshole was scared as shit when he saw his arm not attached to his body anymore, and floating inside the blue curtain.

When he considers that the harasser has suffered enough (and that he had made an unnecessarily big scene), Law gives back his arm, placing it a little askew, but kept a couple of fingers as a reminder for the man to learn about the proper uses of a hand, which didn’t include trying to touch a woman who didn’t want anything to do with him.

After the first close call, which he hopes is actually the only one, he asks his lover to call him if she’s away from him and senses herself in a dangerous situation. Pinpointing her position, Law would be able to immediately bring her back to his side thanks to his power, but he would rather she didn’t go through such a scary experience again.

Law might actually start holding her hand from then on, in case some airheaded bastard decides it’s a good idea to mess with the girl of an infamous pirate. Lo and behold, though, he finds out that he really enjoys the contact and stops being so grumpy after the first few times walking across crowded streets with his lover’s hand tightly held in his.

20, 30, & 31!

20. Favorite character to write

Ruby. Fucking. Carver.

So @aproclivity​ and I have this urban fantasy AU, right? And I love it and it’s my favorite and I love her and she’s my favorite, which is neither here nor there but certainly very important to mention at every available opportunity. But anyway, we’ve got this AU that is currently sitting at like...over 160,000 words? Oops? And the plot is just kind of now showing up late with Starbucks?

and we accidentally ended up kind of shipping some very strange characters it’s fine it happens it’s fine

But like--I love writing for Ruby so much??? She presents such a no-fucks-given attitude but she clearly gives all the fucks, and pretty much anyone she meets would be down with her stepping on them, and she takes the wind out of Richie’s sails at every available opportunity, and I love her???

Like. Legit. This is probably my favorite bit with her I’ve written and I don’t really care if anyone else likes it because it makes me laugh every damn time:

“That being said…” He settles Alex onto her feet before standing up and making his way out of his chair and towards the office door. He offers a tilted grin as he reaches out for the door handle, intent on calling out for his assistant the minute he set foot outside his office. “I’d rather take a half day and take you home with me. I have plans, my darling, and they don’t involve gala paperwork.”

Before he can open it, the door opens anyway, and Ruby unceremoniously shoves a stack of manila folders into his arms. “They damn well should, boss,” his assistant snaps. “The gala’s fucking soon, and I still need you to look over the schedule and finalize signatures for the charity auction and the floor show, not to mention the wardwork you still haven’t finished. Plus Tannis Braun wants to meet with you tomorrow to do a check on the wards you already put up, but he was laughing too hard to tell me when, so I’m going to go with ‘he overheard you two nerds macking because you forgot to hang up the damn phone’ for $200, Alex.” She pauses, takes a breath, and puts on a frostily professional smile. “Trebek, not you, Reagan. You understand.”

Richard sighs. “Ruby--”

She holds up a finger warningly; it’s a pleasant surprise that it’s not the middle one. “Nope. Not done. I need you to listen very carefully. You may take a half day so you can go home and fuck your angst away if and only if you promise you’ll get these signed and back to me by 2 P.M. tomorrow so I can send them back out and make sure that our insurance has copies. You will also be meeting with Braun at the venue tomorrow morning at 9 A.M., and if you’re late because you’re in that weird post-coital haze you get, I will make your life a living hell for the next two weeks. You get me?”

He shifts the folders in his arms and reaches behind him for his coat on the stand just inside the door. “Do I have this charming attitude to look forward to until Nicodemus arrives in town again?”

Ruby’s expression doesn’t change, but the very tips of her ears go pink. “Don’t. Miss. The appointment.” She punctuates her words with sharp jabs into his chest with her finger. “I’m not cleaning up the mess if you do. Braun likes to talk, boss, and given what he overheard, I’m not sure we want to hear what he has to say.” She leans around him, smiles curtly at Alex, and leans back. “Get your freak on, but do it at home. Now scram.”

30. Hardest part of writing?

actually doing it

No, but seriously. I lose steam really easily--thanks, depression/anxiety/poor sleeping cycles/bad habits/tendency to get hyperfixated!--and once I fall out of the habit or hit something that doesn’t come easily to me, it’s really hard for me to get back in. I tend to feel like I Owe Somebody a certain output at a certain speed, and when I fall away from that, it’s really anxiety-inducing to try to get back into it.

As far as the craft itself goes? Action scenes and getting characters from point A to point B. I struggle with blocking and conveying action in a way that doesn’t feel clunky (I like dialogue and prose far more than quick actions, YIKES), and sometimes just getting characters to leave the damn room feels like pulling teeth.

(Any time I think about that, I remember my friend Wendy from the writing group I used to run back in Indiana. She had a draft she brought in for critique, and her smile filled with clenched teeth as she told us how fucking hard she was working to get the hero out of the damn parking lot resonated down to my bones.)

31. Easiest part of writing?

I like idea generation. I like peeling back layers of motivation and plot to find the emotional core of a person, of an event, even of a place. I feel like that’s one of my strengths, I think? Being able to parse an emotionally taut moment, I mean. It’s something that I enjoy doing, at least--it feels the most like poetry to me.

Did It Feel The Same?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Gender neutral!reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Steve Rogers was your everything, but he wasn’t yours. And now he’s gone. So now you’re left alone to deal with old memories and suffer alone by yourself.

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, lots of tears, one (1) curse word

A/N: So I’m finally rewriting the fic that got deleted! Honestly idk if it’ll be anything compared to what it was but hey, we’ll see what happens! Honestly I’m happy with where it’s come and it’s much longer and sadder so hahahaha, sorry everyone. Also sorry for two updates in 2 days, I just needed to write this ‘cause I’m going on hiatus for the next two days cuz of the holidays (which means no WCBB Pt. 3 until at least Thursday! Sorry folks!)

Key:

Y/N - Your Name

L/N - Last Name

Italics - Memories

“Steve?” said the shaky voice of Peggy Carter as she leaned closer to the mic. Static filled the air as her eyes closed, a small whimper escaping her throat. “Steve?”

Your mind muddled together as you slowly fell against the closest wall, sliding down to your knees. You couldn’t believe it. He was gone.

Captain America was gone.

You curled your knees up to your chest, holding your head in your hands. You heard the door close, and you assumed it was Colonel Phillips leaving the room. But you didn’t dare look up. Everything was shaking, your body, your hands, your head, everything.

How could he possibly be gone? You had seen him through this. The two of you had become very close friends through it all, even after a small fight. So how, how could he just go?

“The name’s Y/N,” you said, a smile tugging at your lips as you looked at the boy who stood in front of you. Your eyes trailed over his entire body, taking in the boy who stood no taller than 5′7″ and weighed no more than 100 pounds. “You must be Steve Rogers. Where’d Agent Carter go?”

He was clearly flustered, though you couldn’t place why. His blue eyes glanced everywhere but where you were. You couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he was acting. “I, um... she said she was grabbing the doctor, I think? Told me to uh... um... find someone... Agent L/N?”

“Well, kudos to you, Mr. Rogers. You found me.” You patted him no the shoulder before giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Come on, I’ll get you prepped for the serum injection. And, don’t worry, Mr. Rogers. You’re in safe hands.”

He practically choked as you calmly lead him through the compound hallways. You couldn’t help but find his awkwardness adorable. There was just something about him that made you want to be closer Steve.

You couldn’t help the sob that escaped your throat as you continued to hold tightly on your head. A pair of arms wrapped around you tightly, but you didn’t look up to see who it was. You couldn’t even think at the moment. All you knew was that this person was also crying, just not as loud as you.

They calmly rubbed your arm, trying to find comfort in the fact that you were both hurting beyond belief. It was hard to think of anything comforting in the lost of your best friend and love of your life.

You wanted to scream at the person, yell at them until your throat was raw. You hated being comforted when there was nothing that would change the pain that you felt. But you didn’t, you simply let them hold you as you sobbed uncontrollably.

“Hey, Y/N? You in here?” came the voice of Steve, walking through the munitions room. Curled up in the far corner, you let out a small whimper, trying to wipe away the tears that covered your face. You didn’t want to see him, especially like this.

Footsteps walked over to your current location until a hand touched your shoulder. You quickly shoved his hand away, standing up to your full height and glaring down at him. “Go away! I don’t want to see you! Just go away!”

He looked flabbergasted to see your anger written so clearly across your face. He couldn’t understand what was possibly possessing you to scream like you were. “Y/N, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“Just go away!” you screamed. You shoved against his chest, but he barely bulged an inch. As a last resort, you threw a slap across his face, finding your mark against his cheek.

His entire head moved with your slap. You quickly pulled your hand away and turned away from him, tears streaming down your face. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that you were sorry, nor why you slapped him. How could you possibly tell him that it was jealousy that fueled your tantrum? How could you tell him that you had seen him with Private Lorraine earlier, and that you had seen the way he looked at Peggy? How could you tell him that he was slowly killing you?

You listened as Steve started to walk away. However, the moment he believed he was out of earshot, you heard him mutter, “What the hell is their problem?”

Anger boiled through your veins as you grabbed a tray full of several small tools with varying degrees of sharpness and danger. You threw the whole thing in his direction. Although nothing actually hit him, you saw as he visibly flinched and turned to look at you with wide eyes.

“I hate you!”

After a few minutes, your sobs finally subsided and you managed to look up, meeting the sad eyes of Peggy Carter. She offered you a weak smile, although you both knew that neither one of you was capable of an actual smile at this moment. Everything hurt, and you were sure she was feeling similarly.

“Peggy,” you mumbled, trying not to burst into tears on the spot. “Peggy, how could he do this to us? Why did he have to play the hero like this? Why did he have to put in the water? Why? Why is he such an idiot?”

“I know... I know Y/N...” She brushed a shaking hand over your cheek, wiping away tears. “He is... was...” Her voice choked up, but she continued on. “He was too good for his own benefit. I... I’m going to miss him, too.”

You nodded your head along with what she said. The two of you continued on with your conversation, talking about some of your favorite memories with Steve, stopping every once in awhile to cry together.

“Steve?” you asked quietly, walking up to the soldier as he sat alone in the records room. “Steve... I’m... sorry,” you mumbled, kicking at the air in front of you. “I’m sorry I slapped you. And I’m sorry I threw the tray. And about saying I hate you. I don’t... I just...”

He quickly got to his feet. Once, what felt like a long time ago, he stood around your height. Now, he towered over you at an astounding 6′2″. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t... I should have listened when you said you wanted to be alone. I shouldn’t have pushed you when you clearly wanted to be alone.” He stood awkwardly in front of you, unsure of what to do. “You don’t have to tell me what happened until you’re ready, ya know?”

You smiled sadly up at him, nodding your head. “Yeah, I know. And... I want to tell you, Stevie, but I can’t. Not now. Maybe... maybe after this war stuff is over. We can talk about it over a pint or something... even though you can’t get drunk.”

The two of you laughed over that, neither one of you making eye contact still. Once your laughter ended, silenced dictated the space between the both of you. Neither wanted to be the first to speak, but, luckily, Steve decided he would talk. “Can we hug it out and promise to never fight like that again? Friends can’t be doing that to each other, after all. Plus I’m being shipped off tomorrow. Don’t want to leave this unresolved.”

A laugh escaped your mouth before you could stop it. You nodded to his request, falling into his open arms. “I promise, we’ll never fight again.”

Both yourself and Peggy eventually left the floor of the control room and joined the rest of the members of the SSR as they cleaned up the mess that remained of the last standing Hydra base.

You made a promise to Peggy that, if you two ever lived in the same city, you would make a promise to live together so that the two of you were never alone for along. You gave her your New York home address, and she gave you a phone number so that you could always reach her.

Colonel Phillips, who stood on the other side of the room, waved you over. You smiled sadly at Peggy and started to walk towards the Colonel before you heard a voice behind you that caused you stop in your tracks.

“Who were they to the Captain?” asked the voice of one the men who was working on cleanup. You wanted nothing more than to turn around and snap at them, but a voice started to talk.

“They were his best friend, especially after the lost of Sargent Barnes. Steve trusted and loved no one more.” Peggy sounded so thoughtful and sad with the sentence she had just uttered. “They were everything to the Steve. He thought the world of them.”

Colonel drove the car, his foot pressed onto the gas pedal. You held onto the back of his seat for dear life, praying that he wouldn’t crash you into the plane or drive you off the cliff. Steve sat up front, and Peggy to your right.

“Keep it steady!” Steve shouted, getting to his feet. He was about to jump when Peggy suddenly stood up.

“Wait!” she cried. He turned around, confused, until she pulled him down into a kiss. Your heart broke in your chest, unable to comprehend what was happening in front of you. “Go get him.”

Steve’s shocked eyes moved over you and the Colonel. You wanted so badly to tell him everything and beg him to stay, but your voice failed you. Instead, the Colonel spoke up.

“Ain’t neither one of us gonna kiss you.”

His eyes meet yours, and you could swear that you saw sadness in his eyes. But you couldn’t be certain, because he quickly turned around and jumped onto the landing gear of the plane. Colonel Phillips quickly slammed on the breaks, trying to steer the car so that it didn’t go over the cliff. But all you could focus on was the plane as it flew further and further away, carrying away the man you loved.

You couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach that that was the last time that you’d see him. Biting your bottom lip, you watched the plane grow smaller and smaller and your stomach practically did flips in your stomach.

Steve blinked groggily, sitting up in bed. He glanced around the beige room that he happened to be. In the background, a radio droned on, talking about some baseball game. Listening closer, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. It sounded like the Dodgers game of ‘41. How?

The door opened in walked a person who looked strikingly similar to you. “Y/N?” he asked, his voice choking up for a moment.

They looked at him like he was a complete stranger, their eyes filled with confusion. “Who?”

He shook his head, trying to shake off the confusion of the situation. “Where am I?”

A smile pulled at the corner of their mouth as the walked over to the bed, setting a glass on the bedside table. “You’re in a recovery room in New York City,” they replied calmly, taking a few steps back.

“Where am I really?” Standing up, he brushed off his pants, as if they could possibly have anything on them. “And don’t say New York. That’s the Dodger’s game from May of ‘41. I know ‘cause I was there.” He took a step towards the person, causing them to lean against the wall. “Where am I?”

“Captain Rogers,” they said, voice edged in a warning tone.

“Who are you?” he practically shouted. Suddenly, two men in all black suits came bursting into the room. He looked completely shocked at their intrusion before he went running at the closest wall, breaking free of the room.

He didn’t know where he was running, but he just ran until he somehow ended up on the streets of New York City. Only, it was far from the New York he remembered.

The city was filled with bright screens flashing with advertisements and neon lights that would have blinded him if it hadn’t of been for the bright sun overhead already doing so.

“At ease soldier!” came the voice of a man as several black fancy looking cars circled around him. Men with guns came out, holding guns in his direction. Meanwhile, the speaker was a dark-skinned man with an eye patch over his left eye. He calmly walked over, holding his hands up defensively. “Look, I’m sorry about the show back there, but we thought it would be easier to break it to you slowly.”

Steve stared at the man like he was insane. “Break what?” His heart pounded in his chest as he looked around at these streets he once knew. What the hell happened?

“You’ve been asleep, Cap. For almost 70 years.” Shock wrote itself over Steve’s face as he looked at the man before going back to examining the city. “You gonna be okay?”

He forced a nod, his mind flying to Peggy. Was she alive? And what about Y/N? Did they manage to live? “Yeah. Yeah, I just... I had a date.”

The man patted him on the shoulder, nodding his head solemnly. “Come on inside with me, I’ll tell you everything you missed. I’m Director Nick Fury, by the way.” He lead the man back inside the building and into a room that sat a glass tabletop in the center with several chairs surrounding it.

He motioned for Steve to take a seat before taking the one right next to it. Steve reluctantly sat, giving a confused look to Director Fury. “Where am I? And what happened to my friends? Like... Agent Carter and Agent L/N.”

“This is S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Fury responded, turning his attention to the tabletop. “As for Agent’s Carter and L/N... well... let me show you. Files on Agent Carter, Peggy.”

“Captain Steven Rogers does not have permission to view files.” An electronic voice filled the room, causing Steve to look around in complete shock.

“Director override. Fury, Nicholas J.”

“Confirmed. File access: granted. Welcome Director Fury.” Suddenly, the table top showed pictures of Peggy and Steve’s heart stopped in his chest, staring at the woman whom he had a date with. His eyes softened considerably as several more pictures of her appeared, watching as she progressively aged the further along he went in the pictures.

Suddenly, a file with words written on it popped up, and Fury took over reading. “Agent Carter, Peggy. One of the main founders of S.H.I.E.L.D. alongside Howard Stark. After you disappeared, she worked in New York under the S.S.R. and solved missions until she was moved to Los Angeles to work under Daniel Sousa, who she would eventually go on to marry. She had three kids and is currently in a retirement home in D.C. where she has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.”

Steve took a sharp inhale of breath. Peggy was still alive, and he couldn’t be more happy. However, his happiness was quickly dulled when his mind drifted to you. “What about Agent Y/N L/N?”

Fury looked reluctant to do anything before he swiped away all the information on Peggy and sighed to himself. “Files on Agent L/N, Y/N.” Before the computer could speak about Steve not having access, he started speaking. “Director override. Fury, Nicholas J.”

“Confirmed,” said the female computer voice. “File access: granted. Welcome, Director Fury.”

Steve turned his attention to the table and looked at the black-and-white picture of you that sat on the table. You were smiling, but something was off with the picture, almost as if it had been forced. It was one of only two pics in the folder, the other being one of you and Peggy. You were situated in a chair while Peggy stood over you shoulder, a hand placed on your shoulder. Both of you looked serious.

A panic took over Steve’s entire being. Why were those the only pics of you? You did live, didn’t you?

“Are they-” Steve started, but a document suddenly popped up.

“Agent L/N, Y/N,” Fury read, his eyes filled with pain. “Returned to their New York apartment after the war was won. Lived with Peggy Carter until Peggy left for Los Angeles. When Agent Carter returned... she found a letter from that they had left for her. She found them in the bedroom and...” he trailed off, unwilling to continue on.

Steve’s heart broke into a million pieces. You had killed yourself? He didn’t realize it at first, but tears were starting to stream down his face. It wasn’t until the tears started to cloud his vision that he quickly wiped them away. “Can I be left alone?” he asked, trying to keep his steady. He wanted to be strong, but he was faltering to remain calm.

“Yeah, I’ll be on the other side of the door, Cap. We’ll take you to where you’ll be staying in New York once you’re ready to go.” He stood up to leave but paused, turning his attention back to Steve. “Take all the time you need. It’s a lot to take in.”

With that, he left Steve alone in the conference room. The moment the door closed, he lost his composure and broke down in tears. He held his head in his hands, unable to process your death. How could they just do this? How could they ever feel so unloved and alone that they felt like this was their only option? How could they be gone?

Y/N L/N was gone.

The realization punched him harder than he would like to admit. An ugly sob pulled itself from his throat as he clutched at his head tighter, unable to cope with his feelings.

“The name’s Y/N,” they said, smiling brightly at Steve. He was in complete shock at the person who stood before him, unable to comprehend how someone so amazing could just... exist. Yeah, Peggy was beautiful, but you? Everything about you was... perfect. As if you had been handcrafted by God himself. “You must be Steve Rogers.” Their voice pulled him from his state of shock, glancing up to meet their Y/E/C eyes before glancing back at his feet. “Where’d Agent Carter go?”

“I, um... she said she was grabbing the doctor, I think?” He tried desperately to get his thoughts to form compete sentences, but their laugh made it that much harder. “Told me to, uh... um... find someone... Agent L/N?” He prayed he had gotten the last name right.

Luckily, they smiled at him, nodding their head. “Well kudos to your, Mister Rogers. You found me.” They put a hand on his shoulder before giving it a tight squeeze. “Come on, I’ll get you prepped for the serum injection. And, don’t worry, Mr. Rogers.” Their eyes flashed him a wicked smile, a smirk sitting on their perfect lips. “You’re in safe hands.”

He couldn’t help the choke that escaped his lips at their remark. Once again, they laughed, making his brain go fuzzy. All that he could think about was how he wanted to be closer to this person, whoever they were. He wanted to know everything about them, learn all their secrets and what made them tick. He wanted them.

He wanted you so badly in this moment. He wanted to know so much. He wanted to know why you did it. He wanted to know why you chose to leave the world when you were so young and able. He couldn’t bare to think of a world where you weren’t around anymore.

Through his panic, one thought crept in his mind. You must of felt similarly when he had crashed the Valkyrie into the ice caps. You must of cried for him, like he cried for you now.

Did it feel the same?

Tags:

@thedaydreamingwriter @starksparker

The Detour

Characters: Rick Grimes, Michonne, Daryl Dixon. Judith, Carl, Glenn and Maggie mentioned.

Pairing: Richonne

Warnings: Bickering, Poor Daryl - might have scared him for life, Dumbass Rick, Implied smut.    

Word Count: 2000ish

A/N: I have tried avoiding this for sooo long. I started watching The Walking Dead with @mysupernaturalfics a while back. Not knowing much about it but JDM is big bad Negan which I haven’t caught up to yet. Ever since Michonne came on I shipped Richonne sooo hard and last when they finally kissed my trashy ass broke and I saw @waywardmoeyy Awkward Moment challenge the day after. So here goes. My first Richonne AND my first TWD fic! I am messing with time a little. I am thinking this is pre Hilltop, but Rick and Michonne are together. I know this trip wouldn’t be possible to squeeze in but it is fanfiction so deal with it. :P

Thanks to @mysupernaturalfics for getting me stuck in a richonne hole but also for betaing for me.

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

It had been a long few days out on the road, filled with nothing but bad luck at first. Rick, Michonne and Daryl had left to go scavenging for food, leaving Alexandria behind in Glenn and Maggie’s capable hands.

Daryl usually liked being out on the road and he had at first on this trip too. Nothing about this world was perfect but out here he felt as if he was making a difference. He was doing something that mattered. Daryl always felt a little claustrophobic being stuck in the town for too long. Being out on the road was a relief. Right up until Rick had started trying to impress Michonne, leading to one dumb accident after another. The latest being a ill advised shortcut which had gotten their van stuck for hours causing Michonne’s mood to turn sour fast.

In case you are wondering a woman’s mood really is contagious, at least when she spend those hours struggling to get the truck loose sassing her boyfriend, who bickered back just as frustrated with himself as she was with him.

Daryl was going crazy listening to them. He hadn’t bothered speaking much since his ill advised comment that he could leave them alone for an hour if they needed a lay. Daryl didn’t scare easy, but he had learned to shut up when Michonne gave him her sideways glare. He liked his head where it was, not on the ground, severed from his body by a sword and badass bitch.

Daryl grumbled under his breath when they finally managed to free the car, but not before Rick had covered both Michonne and Daryl in mud. Rick had floored the speeder, dragging the van from the pothole, while his girlfriend and best friend were still behind the car. Daryl had been less than pleased with the muddy shower but his mood was nothing compared to the fuming woman in the back of the van as the three of them headed back home.   

Rick felt horrible about everything that happened. He knew if he had just stayed on the planned track instead of having gone off road, they would never have had to detour around a herd of walkers. They wouldn’t have been stuck in a the hot van with a broken air conditioner for three days longer than planned and they certainly wouldn’t have gotten stuck.

The thing was he had wanted to make that detour because he remembered a location of a small out of sight candy store he had passed on vacation here years ago. He had hoped to surprise Michonne with it, but his plans hadn’t gone as he had hoped and instead of making her happy, she was now furious with him.

He could probably have calmed her, if his stubbornness would have allowed it. Actually he had tried a few times. He cracked jokes trying to make her smile, but instead he just kept getting insulted every time she snapped at him.

See the thing was, Michonne might have been annoyed by the weather and Rick’s dumbass decisions along with his inability to listen to reason at times. That however, didn’t change the fact the was in love with the schmuck. All the things about him that angered her in this very minute were things she admired in him. Just not in a million degree heat with the added humidity, running low on water, covered in mud, just because dumbass didn’t warn her and Daryl to move before flooring the gas.

She was drying herself off with an old rag she had found in the back of the van, trying to get the mud off herself before it got her even more uncomfortable than the unbearable Georgia heat was already making her, when Daryl’s outburst called her attention.

“What the hell?” Daryl pulled the van to a halt, before swearing loudly as him and Rick got out onto the road, quickly followed by Michonne. “Goddammit!”

The bridge in front of them had collapsed completely. There was no way to drive back over it or even to fix it on their own. They had no other choice but to find a way around it which Rick unnecessarily announced, making Michonne bite her tongue not to say something snarky.

“I can circle back for a bit, try and find a back road,” Rich suggested causing Michonne to snap at him this time.

“I really don’t trust your navigation skills. Remember last time? I’m still getting the sand out of my ears,” she sassed him, making Rick stop mid sentence to glare at her in annoyance. He wanted to tell her that detour had been for her and not himself, but with the way she was biting his head off every two seconds, he wasn’t sure he even wanted her to know.

“It’ll be faster to go through the woods,” Daryl drew their attention to him, breaking up their staring competition. Daryl flung his crossbow over his shoulder before looking back at the two lovebirds, he could honestly do without for a while.  “I’ll find away around. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Hold on, I’m coming with you,” Rick reached into the van to get his weapons, when Michonne objected.

“I’m not staying here alone. You got us into this mess. You guard the damn van,” Michonne hissed at Rick, who were just about to bite back at her when Daryl interrupted them.

“I’m not taking neither of ya. Better you be back here watching the van bitching at each other than one of you out there bitching at me about the other,” Daryl grumbled, ducking into the treeline, leaving a rather surprised Michonne and Rick behind.

The next 15 minutes or so was spent in silence, eating a bit of the food they had found for the town. Not much, just enough to keep their energy up. Both of them knew they were being ridiculous and both of them wanted to apologize for it. Their equal stubbornness, however, stopped them from doing so.

Instead, Rick got up quietly grabbing a few of the empty water bottles and stuffing them into a backpack, before heading towards the steep hill above the lake.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Michonne called after him, biting her tongue when she realized how condescending she had just sounded. The truth was she was more worried that anything right now. She didn’t like the three of them all being separated and she knew even if Rick stayed in her line of vision she couldn’t do much to help him from up here if someone or something should appear from the woods.  

“We need water and it’s right down there,” Rick answered without looking back at her. If he had he would have seen the worry in her eyes and stopped to comfort her. He didn’t so he continued on his mission, hoping that getting them all hydrated with relieve the tension between them a bit.

Rick managed to get down the hillside without breaking his neck, so that was a plus. The water also seemed to be clear and drinkable, which got him thinking his luck might have changed. That was right up until a hoard for around 20 walkers, appeared from the treeline. 6 bullets doesn’t do a whole lot against 20 walkers, especially not when you don’t want to fire off set bullets and draw more undead, hungry corpses your way.

Rick heard Michonne calling out for him as she made her way down the hill as fast as she could to help him. He didn’t have time to pay attention to her in that moment being too busy keeping the clabbering teeth off his flesh. He was doing pretty well for a while, until he lost his balance falling backwards into the lake and for a few seconds he thought that was it. He had hugged Carl goodbye before he left and he had kissed Judith. How things were with Michonne however haunted him. It was only for a split second but it felt like hours to him as their stupid fights replayed over and over in his head. Right up until her katana came into view, slicing through the skulls of the three walkers that were basically on top of him now. She tossed him his axe back, sending him a worried look and Rick gave her a quick nod letting her know he was okay. They were going to be okay.

Rick jumped up fighting side by side with her until all the walkers were properly dead. Before he knew it her arms were around his neck, knocking him off balance sending them both tumbling backwards into the lake. This time however Rick’s bad luck had them laughing and her smile only grew when he pulled back looking at her teasingly.

“You said you needed to get the sand out of your ears, didn’t you?” he grinned when she splashed him with water.

“And you needed a shower. You were starting to stink up the car,” Michonne sassed him back, making him laugh again as he tugged her closer.

“No. That would have been Daryl,” Rick grinned, kissing her before she could talk back at him. He smiled when she moaned into his kiss, before burying her face against his neck, letting him hug her.

“I remember a small candy store the town over. That’s why the detour,” Rick explained quietly as he held her close, enjoying the feel of her back in his arms. He had missed it more than his stubbornness had let him realize. “I was trying to surprise you,” Rick smiled when he saw how taken back with his words she appeared to be, but his smile quickly faded when she suddenly released herself from his embrace, starting to fill the water bottles.

“What are you doing?” he asked rather stupidly, making him wanna kick himself, but the feeling was short lasted since Michonne looked up at him from where she was kneeling with a grin on her face.

“I am finishing what you started and then we are going back to the van, so we can get out of these wet clothes,” she stated matter of factly, causing Rick to chuckle.

“You wanna get me out of my clothes huh?” he teased kneeling down next to her and she gave him a playful push, as she rolled her eyes.

“Shut up before I change my mind Rick,” she warned but there was no real threat behind her words. All her anger had long since left her and she needed a quiet moment with him as much as he did her.

***

When Daryl reached the van everything was quiet. Too quiet for his liking. There was no sight of Michonne or Rick anywhere, which only caused him to worry further. Daryl moved his crossbow from his back, holding it ready to fire at whatever might come his way as he slowly approached the van.

After a quick sweep around it, Daryl pulled the backdoors open in one swift movement. A movement he lived to regret seconds later as he was staring directly at Rick’s white ass and Michonne soft moaned filled his ears. Daryl closed his eyes as hard as he could, before kicking the door shut yelling at his two friend’s inside.

“Couldn’t you have left a sock on the door or something? Next time I am taking the bike,” he growled towards the door, trying desperately to forget the imagine of Rick’s ass but it seemed to be seared into his brain permanently.

Even with the horrifying, way to vivid memory playing in his mind, he couldn’t help but smile when he heard the two of them giggling inside the van. The two of them deserved a little happiness and brain strapping imagery aside Daryl was happy for them. It didn’t mean he still wasn’t taking the bike next time though.

Richonne Tag Team

@mysupernaturalfics @gracedolyn @grimesgirl26 @adriellej @blacktithe7

mdzs fandom discourse opinion who give a shit

putting this under a readmore cause im a full legal adult and im going to feel big silly about making a shipping discourse post otherwise

 i 100% see and understand people’s qualms with x*yao and if it squicks you out that’s completely valid. canonical x*yao would be a mess and a half. but, having seen arguments both on the ‘it’s inherently abusive and dysfunctional’ side and the ‘it’s not inherently abusive and dysfunctional’ side, here is my opinion:

i think, under au circumstances where jiggy doesn’t go down the path of becoming a monster, it’s probably fine. like, it would need to be au, and we can just go on ahead and eraser tool the ‘he burnt down the brothel he grew up in with everyone inside’ part of his backstory (because what the fuck, mxtx) but there is the potential for genuine love and care there in a non-canon storyline.

in a canon storyline, i think there is also support for there to be unconsummated (for lack of a better term) x*yao dynamic, at least going off of cql canon. i haven’t read the novel in its entirety because i just can’t deal with the exiled rebel translation or whatever that site is called - so idk if things are the same in that text - but like. the actors did homo it up a little bit, and that’s fine. it IS fucked up in canon, because jiggy is fucked up in canon, so if someone’s going around being totally uncritical of it then yeah That’s A Problem, but like. people writing fics and meta about it acknowledging that it’s an unhealthy dynamic and exploring that with a full understanding of the emotional and moral consequences is also, i think, fine. like don’t romanticize manipulation, lying, murder, etc. obviously but. there’s room to write about tragedy and bad shit as long as the fact that it’s bad shit is acknowledged and realistically depicted.

my feelings on n*eyao are sorta similar, except i’m less comfortable with the power dynamic there even in an au - and frankly, i can’t see jiggy/meng yao being happy in the long run in a romantic relationship with someone whose command he is under, so i do think it’s a bit out of character. i feel like that would ring his ‘tender about being stigmatized as the son of a sex worker/accused of sleeping his way to the top’ alarm bells. the difference with xichen being that even though they aren’t technically social equals, xichen goes out of his way to TREAT him as one. plus a lot of the n*eyao content i’ve seen kinda....woobifies meng yao? or at least defangs him? because even pre-jiggy era, he’s clearly very capable of being underhanded and manipulating situations when he needs to. which, before he starts committing war crimes and murdering people, i have a certain degree of sympathy for, bc i know from firsthand experience that sometimes when the people around you have bad intentions and you don’t have a lot of power, it CAN be necessary for you to be underhanded and manipulative in order to keep the peace and protect yourself. (i’m not a canon jiggy apologist though. canon jiggy is a great tragic antagonist, but he falls under the ‘cool motive still murder’ category and he’s fully irredeemable by the time he marries qin su, if not earlier)

3z*n is like, meh. in canon? hell no, not in a million years, that’s neither plausible nor healthy. in an au? you need to justify it for me to find it believable, and i think the most reasonable option is for it to be a sandwich with xichen in the middle. but, again, as long as it’s handled properly, i don’t think it’s that huge of a deal.

if you want to add onto this post or disagree with me in a reply that’s totally fine, i welcome other interpretations and discussions of the text, but if you’re going to just call me an abuse apologist please don’t lmao. your feelings are valid, but i’m not uncritically supporting these things. and this is probably the only time i’m going to have mentions of x*yao/n*eyao/3z*n on this blog

tonight on spontaneous media thoughts with a-flyleaf, some rambles on Paranoia Agent because yours truly just went and binged another old anime maybe two people and a paperclip have ever heard of!

so a few weeks ago I somehow got into the mini habit of watching videos on the side while drawing, splitting my desktop between art on one half and youtube on the other. somehow the videos of choice ended up being anime reviews, because I... I don’t know, really. :V I’ve watched like 5 anime now, this one included, and wasn’t particularly planning on adding any more to that little lineup. (keep meaning to check out cowboy beepboop but EH.) the lack of investment helps with the “wait did I just miss something” multitasking mood I guess...?

anyway it was a short-lived habit if only because I ran out of stuff that needed drawing aka Image Comic Process but I digress. Paranoia Agent first came to my attention indirectly through... something completely different! \o/

in entirely unrelated circumstances, stumbled upon this article a few days ago and the “realistic portrayal” example caught my attention. a brief comment dig later and the name was identified, and it... features a weird cartoon dog? the wikipedia premise intrigued me but it ended up on my hypothetical neverending list of stuff to check out.

I mention the review thing because, while procrastinating on everything earlier today, I found this video and it immediately caught my attention. and hey, looks like the whole dub is up on youtube, only 13 episodes so might as well!

...not that I’d. necessarily recommend the youtube dub upload. it lacks subtitles for the writing which is actually pretty damn essential.

go watch that review if you haven’t already, because it sums up the show better than I ever could and talks about what hooked me: a basis in psychology and experimental art.

AND NOW FOR MY ACTUAL THOUGHTS ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ (to be formatted in bullet points later probably, again tfw mobile) edit 11/21: done, plus some additional thoughts after reading a few reviews/analyses around the web

it practically starts with a bang via baseball bat, and imo the first four episodes are the strongest of the series. in addition to the clever toying with art style as the video describes, we’re introduced to an ensemble cast of not necessarily likable but no less complex characters, and I always appreciate it when media doesn’t seem to be hitting you over the head (harhar) with LIKE THIS PERSON DAMMIT.

while I don’t have dissociative identity disorder and thus can’t speak to accuracy in its portrayal or weirdness in the subplot’s resolution, episode four three* also had one of the first examples I’ve seen of a character with “multiple personalities” that didn’t lean on the tired but one of them... is a MURDERER schtick.

*I initially got the numbering messed up here; the episode with the character who has DID is third, not fourth.

the entire series explores the idea of fiction and reality - no, this is neither the time nor place for the Shipping Debacle(TM), moreso in how fiction is a form of escapism both destructive yet necessary in just about everyone’s lives. the experimental elements play with this well, forcing the viewer to think about why the art is changing the way it does.

until around the end of episode 4*, it’s relatively clear when we’re getting a glimpse into a character’s psyche vs seeing what’s actually going on. and then the next installment hits, and it honestly wouldn’t surprise me if a lot of people bail at this point. it’s not bad necessarily, but the line between fantasy and reality isn’t just blurred - save for a few quick cuts, said line is utterly trampled. symbolism runs rampant and it can be tricky to figure out exactly what’s Actually going on, if anything at all - more on this later.

*e: this time I actually do mean the fourth episode.

on the topic of symbolism, there’s definitely something symbolic going on with the crows/ravens (death?) and to some extent color (namely gold/yellow, green, and red) but I haven’t quite put my finger on it.

you know that thing the video says about Lil Slugger being a manifestation of mass hysteria and destructive escapism? (if you don’t, what are you waiting for >:V it’s about 10 minutes long if you skip the spoilery part.) turns out, he really truly is, and it’s not just metaphors.

spoilers ahead; I’d recommend going in blind but use your best judgment, I know I might not have been so intrigued if not for reading the entire wikipedia plot synopsis in advance. why do I keep getting into media by knowing the Big Reveals first.

on one hand, I really like Lil Slugger being both symbolic and a literal supernatural threat. what I’m much less sold on, however, is how the less explained aspects are incorporated, namely towards the end. (big spoiler warning again, last chance!)

so what exactly DID happen to Harumi with the weird clownish smile makeup? what’s all this prophetic babbling from an old dude who really likes chalk (and whose ramblings admittedly might’ve made more sense if I could actually read his stuff), and how does he know it? what’s the deal with the otaku dude and his magical talking figurines? who knows! who cares, I guess. it’s all in the name of thematic significance - or to put it ironically, ~it’s media~

I can respect that as an artistic direction but it can feel a bit stranger than necessary, and I wasn’t a huge fan of the ending. so, what, suddenly chief’s 2d dream world is an actual real place he goes to? the “darkness closing in” is an actual black blob? holy shit, I really must emphasize the otaku dude’s weird voodoo sculptures and bascially everything else about him. th... the ex-“good cop” is now a wannabe superhero?? you do have to read between the lines to an extent to really Get the characters at times, which I actually like, but imo this was pushing it.

actually even before the climactic sequence I was... less than thrilled with the wife’s monologue. for the most part the show is good about not talking down to the viewer, obligatory exposition sprinkles aside, but just in case you weren’t sure what the themes were yet, here they are ft. odd visual echoing that doesn’t seem particularly relevant to the speaker’s state of mind!

there’s a bit more thematic narm towards the finale, especially from local sidekick-turned-video game hero, but at that point I was too busy wondering what the hell was going on to be too bothered.

e: several analyses and a rewatch later, the end of Harumi’s episode seems less nonsensical. it still doesn’t quite explain when she found the time to throw on all that makeup, but as with many other aspects of the series I was left baffled by at first (up to and including weird old math man), it makes much more sense thematically. Paranoia Agent is not a show meant to be taken at face value and trying to understand it all literally is an exercise in futility - not for everyone, but if you are willing to reconsider how you’re parsing it, it’s worthwhile. ...I’m still confused by otaku dude’s figurines, though >:V

/endspoilers (for now)

DESPITE the spoiler-loaded nitpicking above, overall I found it a solid watch - and the irony of bingeing it to procrastinate on school isn’t lost on me, especially after an all-too-relatable vignette featuring a student in the throes of quadratic equations.

while it definitely includes some darker themes, up to and including an episode about three internet friends meeting up to carry out a sort of suicide pact (which again probably would’ve been clearer if the version I watched had subtitles for text), the tone never feels particularly hopeless. it deals with the self-detrimental effects of overindulging in escapism, sure, but isn’t exactly MEDIA IS BAD TECHNOLOGY IS SCARY THE NEW GENERATION SUCKS. (one character has a similar attitude but it’s based more in nostalgia than hatred of the modern.)

reality sucks but you gotta face it and own up to your fuckups, pal, sorry! but rest and respite are important, too, lest you end up like the animation monkey whose very animation becomes rougher as the sleep deprivation really kicks in.

yes, monkey. not literally but definitely in design (no sameface \o/) and arguably behavior. there were a few comedic moments throughout the show, albeit often dark and/or satirically based so YMMV on how much they actually lighten the mood. for what it’s worth, the episode with the aforementioned suicide pact was probably the overall funniest.

overall I would recommend it as a good thought-provoking series, although if you’re having trouble at the fifth episode I won’t blame you for not sticking it to the end. personally, I kept watching because A) I wanted to see just how the murderous baseball kid mystery turned out & B) the art and symbolism shenanigans up to that point, definitely including the intro, had already given me a few Ideas(TM) and I wanted to see what else was in store. worth it? sure, but don’t expect too many explanations on the supernatural parts.

okay one more spoilery detour - and it’s a VERY BIG spoiler that I am actually going to encourage you not to read if you plan on watching. seriously. (e: format isn’t a mistake, I think it works better connected in paragraphs.)

sooo after skimming the plot synopsis and watching that entire review video, I already knew the thing about Maromi being based on a dead dog and Lil Slugger being the mystery assailant. what I did not expect was even that being a lie, in a way that I won’t specify because I’ve said too much already. and while I question the use of what I’m guessing was pms of all things, I actually really liked that twist.

HOWEVER. given that it all comes back to Tsukiko, she was fucking robbed in the character arc department. I get that she’s quiet and secretive so we don’t get any real details on her past until last second, which imo was a really forced reveal (seriously what is WITH those anime girls and their magic prophetic video game), and again I do like how she pretty much has a victim complex and that basically causes everything.

what I don’t like is that we needed cop superhero dude to lay it all out for her in terms of Big Realization Moments. everything only really gets “resolved” because she finally comes to terms with & takes responsibility for her mistake, but what leads her to this action? guys yell at her for fucking up and everyone gets consumed by inexplicable black ooze? EHHHHHHH I don’t buy it.

the chief’s mini-arc with his wife, which unfortunately was more told than shown (sensibly, so we could get Slugger’s reactions to the story, but it doesn’t mean I’m happy with it), was predictable but IMO believable. I definitely don’t think every story has to have clearly-defined protagonist/antagonist characters, especially with the “antagonist” here being a man vs society type of setup, but the end sequence seemed confused on who the real “hero” was supposed to be.

Ikari got the Big Moments of realizing he couldn’t live a lie forever, of smashing his dream world. Tsukiko... gets to go back in time and hug her dog, I guess? where was her moment, however subtle, of realizing she actually doesn’t NEED this little pink dog to save and protect her from reality. if that was supposed to be conveyed when her younger self started making stuff up it... lost me, unfortunately. as far as I registered it went straight for the dog and apology.

e: and you know, after all the aforementioned reading, I’m still inclined to agree with my initial thoughts - HOWEVER. this is a show that lives, breathes, thrives on thematic significance. character development and miniature arcs happen, absolutely, but they’re not the focal point. I can appreciate the ending’s direction much more if I kick conventional thoughts on character progression to the curb.

oh, and the intro? with everyone laughing with chaotic and/or destructive backgrounds while the random mysterious old people get a fancy restaurant and the goddamn moon? guessing the latter is because ~universal themes~ or something but the formal setting after a series of Heck is a moment of fridge logic - the woman’s homeless. she’s probably no stranger to more ravaged settings.

e: oh yeah, and something else I noticed about the intro - everyone is laughing, yes, but Tsukiko’s doesn’t seem... real. everyone else (minus Lil Slugger I guess but his eyes aren’t shown) has the characteristic squint of a genuine smile, but she’s wide-eyed as ever. maybe foreshadowing how she’s the one behind all this...? hrmm.

alrighty no more spoilers For Real This Time, just some miscellaneous notes that didn’t really fit elsewhere

one side character has the same voice as my favorite character from Urasawa’s Monster so that was neat. turns out detective #2 also shares actors with Monster’s protagonist, which took me longer to catch onto but was VERY amusing once noticed.

there’s no overt fanservice, minus like one or two questionable angles that aren’t even in the spotlight. a couple episodes have some Unfortunate Closeups but they’re entirely in service of the story; you’re definitely not supposed to be comfortable with it.

WHERE ARE THE OFF CROSSOVERS.

e: actually, for various spoilery reasons, I would not be the least bit surprised if this influenced OFF to some extent. but that’s another ramble for another time.

AU where Bobbi and Skye are foster sisters and Skye is not pleased to walk in on her big sister making out (or more) with her. Eat friend Jemma.

AN ~ sorry for taking so long, I hope you like it!

High School AU. brotp Skimmons, ship Simmorse. Rated T

Read on AO3

-

It was like a dream. It was like a movie. It felt like she’d stepped into Grease or something, and she was sweet innocent Sandra Dee, and Bobbi was the aloof but attractive Danny in this equation. Well… they had met at a beach in summer, but Bobbi was hardly a greaser. She certainly didn’t smoke. But she was a cheerleader. An incredibly smart, kind, and popular cheerleader. Basically Jemma’s life goals.

Or wife goals, as it turned out.

And the movies, and the stories, and even the dreams didn’t usually mention that another girl could make one feel like this, but Jemma could work with it. The thrill, the delight, the confusing wash of hormones. The kiss. It was such a mess of lips, but she was doing alright, if she did say so herself. She hadn’t even had time to be nervous about Bobbi’s experience in the area. Bobbi had kissed her too fast for that.

Bobbi tried not to smile too much into the kiss. Jemma was holding her own, to be fair, but she wasn’t very good at it yet. She was trying, though, and Bobbi wasn’t about to make it any more difficult for her – it was just so darn adorable. Either that, or it was a distraction tactic, as Jemma’s hand crept up toward second base. At that, Bobbi did smile, and used her tongue to guide Jemma’s as she reached for Jemma’s hand, and pressed it into the material of her shirt, over the shape of her breast.

Blushing, Jemma let herself be guided –

Only to jump back all of a sudden, almost biting Bobbi’s lip, when something made a loud thud in the doorway.

“What. The Hell?” Daisy demanded. Her face was torn with rage, her eyes already filling with tears. “What are you doing?! Bobbi! With Jemma! Jemma?!”

Bobbi pouted apologetically. Jemma was tempted to smooth out the wrinkle in Bobbi’s shirt at the place she’d touched, but thought the better of it, as even though Daisy’s anger was directed at Bobbi, she still felt her cheeks burn with shame.

“I’m sorry –“

“Daisy, I-“

“We meant to tell you –“

“- thought you’d be at Coding Club.”

“Coding Club’s cancelled today,” Daisy replied petulantly, and picked up her bag and stomped away, muttering something about the teacher’s dog as she stormed out of the room. Bobbi and Jemma looked at each other.

“It’s my fault,” Bobbi started.

“No, I was the one who didn’t tell her.”

“About what? That we had milkshakes once?”

“I…” Jemma trailed off, unsure how to phrase it. Unsure where they stood, let alone how to explain it to a heartbroken Daisy. She hadn’t expected it would hit this hard. Why should it? “I mean, she’ll get over it, right? Her sister and her best friend. She loves us. She wants us to be happy. Right?”

“Mm.” Bobbi didn’t sound so sure. “You came over to see her. This – this was…”

“Don’t say it was a mistake.”

“No,” Bobbi agreed. “I just mean we shouldn’t have gone about it this way.”

“No shit.”

If Bobbi was surprised at Jemma’s choice of words, she didn’t show it. Instead, they spent a moment in long, bitter silence – while in the other room, Daisy flung her belongings about, huffing and shrieking wordlessly to herself in frustration. When that died down, they waited a moment longer, and then Bobbi lifted her head.

“I should talk to her.”

“No, I think I should. Then I can leave you to it. I can’t just go.”

Reluctantly, Bobbi conceded, nodding toward the door. Jemma took a deep breath and let herself out into the hallway. Her chest felt tight, still shocked at the whirlwind of emotions she was feeling. Was this guilt? If so, why? She knew, rationally, that she had not done anything wrong. It’s not like they were cheating, or lying, or anything. But Daisy was hurt, and that hurt.

Gathering her strength, Jemma knocked on Daisy’s door.

“Go away,” Daisy demanded, in a muffled voice that made it sound like she’d buried her face in her pillow or her arms or bedcovers. Maybe she was crying. Still, Jemma felt compelled not to leave. Taking a risk – in for a penny, in for a pound after all – she pushed the door open a crack.

Daisy looked up from the bed, and wiped her eyes.

“What do you want?” she muttered, but sat up, and didn’t object to coming in.

“To… apologise, I guess?” Jemma offered. Daisy snorted.

“Convincing.”

“I just… if I’m honest, I don’t understand what I did wrong. I didn’t mean for that to happen, Daisy. We weren’t trying to get under your skin. And we’ve barely even hung out before, I promise. I would have told you if we were a thing. Maybe I would’ve even asked. It just, it all happened so fast- ”

“It happened so fast?” Daisy retorted. “Do you hear yourself? Jemma, you don’t – you can’t – you can’t just do that with someone –“

She was tearing a tissue apart in her hands, and the bitterness in her face and her voice reminded Jemma of something. There was something about those feelings. Some sense of betrayal that neither she nor Bobbi had foreseen. Then again, Daisy was an orphan, with a fucked up backstory and a half, and when it came to attachments and relationships, her heart and mind didn’t always respond rationally. Neither did anyone’s, Jemma supposed, but at least she had an idea.

“Daisy,” she began again, more gently. “Neither of us are cheating on you. We’re not leaving you. We love you.”

“I- I know that,” Daisy choked.

“That’s good,” Jemma agreed. “Can I sit down?”

Daisy gestured to a place beside her on the bed. She hung her head, ashamed by her own overreaction, but unable to stop feeling it entirely.

“She’s my sister,” she muttered, because that explained it to her. But not to the rest of the world. Little by little, she found the feeling, and eventually elaborated. “She’s my sister, and you’re my best friend. I guess maybe I – I haven’t had much to myself, I always had to share before I came here and I don’t want to share you. Maybe. Does that make me selfish?”

“Maybe,” Jemma answered, as truthfully as she could. “You know I’m a person right? I’m not just your friend.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know. And I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was taking Bobbi away from you, or choosing her over you. In fact, I actually came over to see you. Bobbi reminded me you were at Coding, but invited me to stay anyway. We got to talking – and, well, other things, as you saw.”

“Were you going to have sex?”

“What?” Jemma frowned. “No! Ew. And I definitely would have told you before that, don’t you worry.”

“What?!” Daisy yelped. “I don’t wanna know about that!”

She pulled her pillow around her head as if to drown out the thought, but she was smiling, and laughing a little, and so Jemma did too.

“Seriously though,” Jemma continued. “Are you okay with this? Because I know it can be weird. Even normal people find it weird sometimes.”

“It is a little weird,” Daisy agreed. “But… I guess I’m okay. You guys could be cute I guess. And you’re both huge nerds, so, props. I might need you to pull my head in a bit sometimes though, okay? I know I get irrational but I don’t always know when I’m doing it.”

“We’ll keep an eye out,” Jemma agreed. “And I promise, we’ll spend plenty of time alone with you too. That’s not going to change just because we’re hanging out with each other too. Speaking of which, since the mall will be closed by now, how about we get dinner? Chinese?”

Daisy narrowed her eyes. “Promise not to tell me any sex stuff? Like, ever?”

“Cross my heart,” Jemma swore.

“Okay then, we have a deal.”“Oh, just a sec. Talk to Bobbi first, okay?”

“Oh, yeah. That could be a while. Plus I’m still coming down. Maybe we should do tomorrow after school instead?”

“Okay.”

They nodded solemnly… and then Daisy cracked a smile.

“Sure you don’t want Bobbi to drop you home?”

Jemma snatched her pillow and shoved it back at her, and they both laughed.

Bill Cipher x Male! Reader part 9

Bill x Male! Reader

A PIrates Life

Warning: Violence

You slowly woke up, eyes opening slightly to stare at the dim ceiling. Almost as quickly as you opened your eyes however you shut them, the pain and your head and dizziness starting to take over, however the pain was the larger problem. You rolled over, attempting to hide your eyes from the small amount of light that was in the room. Within a few minutes however you sat up, looking around the room to find you were still in the captain's quarters. On the far side of the room was Bill asleep in the chair behind his desk. You frowned slightly and looked down to find you were in his bed, shackles removed. You picked up a pillow and threw it as hard as you could across the room, hitting the blonde directly in the face. It seemed to take a moment but Bill opened his one visible eye and picked the pillow up. "So I see you're awake," He said, standing up and picking the pillow up. "Yes," You started to get out of the bed however just as you stood up Bill had walked over to you and shoved you back onto the bed. "What the hell?" You snapped and he crossed his arms over you. "The doctor said you need to rest so that's what you're going to do. I can't have you passing out on me every few minutes." He responded, going to sit on the edge of the bed. You glared at him as he sat at the edge of the bed, frowning quite obviously. "It's bad enough I'm stuck on the ship now I'm stuck in your bed. Not to mention considering how many times you've tried to make a move on me now I don't trust you with this situation," You hissed, kicking him quite harshly. Bill didn't seem to have a lot of reaction to the kick and shrugged at your words. "I'm more of a gentleman than to try to jump you while you're bedridden. Have more faith." "You're far from a gentleman, and I'm not bedridden. I can stand just fine. You just won't let me," You corrected him, deciding to just lay down. Doll would be here soon enough with your crew. You just needed to deal with this until then. You shut your eyes, focusing on your breathing. You didn't like being alone on the foreign ship. You didn't trust Bill in the slightest and you still remembered the anger he showed from earlier. You needed to go back to your ship and recuperate. You ground your teeth as you thought of your previous battle with Bill. You wish you had just shot him in the head. Not the most ideal way to kill the blonde however it would have gotten the job done and you wouldn't be in this mess. As you were thinking you didn't realize how tired you felt, quickly finding yourself asleep once again. When you awoke again the room was empty. You frowned slightly, looking around for the blonde. You weren't sure how long he had been asleep and he didn't like not knowing. He took the opportunity of being alone to stand up. He stretched , grabbing his jacket which had been removed from him. He slipped it over his shoulders and walked over to the door. You hesitated a moment as you looked at it. You could try to make a run for it. If you could reach the dock you'd have a fighting chance, especially since your ship wasn't that much farther. Plus neither you or Bill would want to create a scene that would cause them both to get arrested, they'd both be killed if that happened. Of course that was assuming he'd make it to the dock. You slowly opened the door, looking around to see if anyone was walking around. The coast seemed clear so you slipped out, shutting the door quietly behind you. You immediately took off to the upper deck, trying to be as quiet but quick as you could. You stopped at the stairs, glancing out to the deck to assess your surroundings. That's when you saw it. For a moment you couldn't believe it yourself so you ran out so you could see more. Of course as you came into view of the entire deck of the boat most eyes turned towards you but you were more shocked that you saw no dock. You only saw water. Doll wasn't fast enough. You were stuck in the middle of the ocean with your sociopath of an enemy. You were so screwed. You tried to calm yourself down, only focusing on the water surrounding you. "Didn't I tell you to rest?," A familiar voice came from behind you on the upper deck. You turned around to see the blonde captain and immediately ran up the steps and lunged at him. "I can't believe you actually took me away from the dock. Because you haven't ruined my life enough as it is. Just die already, would you?!" You screamed at him as you grabbed the collar of his shirt. Several of his crewmates seemed to draw closer but he just waved them off. You were too mad to notice that however and were too focused on being mad at the man in front of you. Still angry, and finding lunging at him not enough to express this, you raised a hand and slapped Bill. You had figured he'd throw you off after that, or you'd be pulled off by the others on the ship but instead he just started laughing. You were startled by the response and let go of his shirt. "Seriously, What the hell's wrong with you," You hissed, sliding off him and just sitting on the wooden floor. You looked down at it, still accepting your situation. Doll would still try to find you. You knew that much. However unless they followed the ship it could be a good while before they ever found you. You looked back out at the sea only to find no ship in the distance. Of course. Bill wouldn't let himself be followed so easy. Focusing on your dilemma you hadn't even notice the blonde stand back up. Nor did you notice him reach down to pick you up so you were plenty surprised when you were suddenly thrown over his shoulder. You immediately began to kick and struggle against Bill. "Put me down! What do you think you're doing?!" You asked, hitting him in the head in an attempt to get him to drop you. "Stop that. Doctor said no physical exertion. You're only going to make yourself worse," The blonde said, walking back down to the captain's quarters.