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sierraraeck · 3 years

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The Jailbird and the Mouse

Spencer x Fem!OC (Aundreya)

Masterlist

Summary: When Aundreya shows up to consult on a case, Spencer seems less than pleased to see her, but his actions tell a different story. Bonus chapter!

Category: Smut. Hate fuck. Apparently I’m incapable of writing a single thing without some angst, so we’ve got a sprinkle of that in there at the end, too.

Warnings: Cussing. Choking. Nicknames. Degradation. Cuffs are used. Unprotected penetration, female masturbating, oral (male receiving), fingering. Semi-public at the beginning.

Word Count: 8.5k

A/N: Okay so this is supposed to take place during How to Lose Friends when they are both in their fresh, post-prison forms and are beyond pissed at each other, but you don't have to have read that chapter or the series to understand this. Also, shoutout to @writing-in-april for looking this piece over and helping me make some edits!

Things to Know: All you really have to know is that Aundreya was a criminal who’d already been to and broken out of prison, joined the BAU, Spencer and her had a previous relationship, Aundreya got Spencer sent to prison, broke him out, then took the fall for something Spencer was being accused of that she didn’t do, getting herself sent to prison again.

I’d been called back to help the BAU solve a case. Fascinating how when it was convenient for them, I held some value. But, after that I was just easy to throw in a jail cell to be forgotten about.

I didn’t want to be there, but unfortunately I didn’t have a choice. So, I closed my eyes, and took a long, deep breath before forcing the door open. I had barely entered the room, barely had made eye contact with Hotch standing opposite me, before both my shoulder blades were shoved against the wall behind me, with long fingers wrapping around my throat.

“What is she doing here?” the hiss in Reid’s voice sounded exactly how I’d imagined it in my head preparing for this encounter. He looked almost as bad as me. His curls were going in a million directions, and I could only imagine the amount of times he’d run his hands through them, probably due to stress. His eyes were blood-shot, slightly puffy, and the dark bags underneath seemed more defined. The only thing that contrasted all of that, and let me know his head was still in it, was the darkness he now held in his eyes. There was nothing lighthearted or soft about them anymore, at least, not for the moment and certainly not for me. Plus, there was a red-hot rage I could see boiling at the surface. It was like looking in a funhouse mirror, a warped version of myself being reflected back to me. I’d seen the same fury and darkness in my eyes every morning that was in his now, and the irritation that radiated off him matched my own. Really, the only difference between Spencer and I, was he still had his gun and badge and I didn’t.

“I was invited to help consult,” I snapped through my somewhat restricted breath. “So you better get the fuck off me.”

He gave my throat one last tight squeeze before stepping back, his intense gaze never leaving me. I met his gaze with a wicked smile while brushing my fingers over where the ghost of his hand used to be. I wanted him to see that he didn’t affect me. Angry or not, he held no power in our dynamic anymore.

“Chambers, good to see you,” Derek mocked, giving me a side eye laced with suspicion.

“Can’t say I feel the same,” I deadpanned, then turning on Hotch. “So, why am I here?”

“We have reason to believe that a rogue gang member is kidnapping and killing ex-military if they refuse to join,” Hotch explained with seemingly no emotion, as if he was unaffected by my presence.

“Cool,” I deadpanned again before asking, “So why do you need me?”

“We wanted to know if you know anything or have heard anything-” Derek started.

“Heard anything?” I cut him off with a scoff, “You mean besides the constant clanging of metal bars when I’m not left in complete silence by myself? No, I haven’t heard anything.”

“Can you find them?” Spencer asked as if it would be a difficult task for me.

“So you do want my help,” I clarified.

“I want your skills.”

I let out a disgusted chuckle in response to his quip. Venom dripped from my words as I voiced my thoughts from only moments before stepping into the room. “Oh, I get it. You only want me around when it's convenient for you. Otherwise you just wanna give up on me and let me rot in a cell.”

“What was I supposed to do!”

“What were you supposed to do?” I asked in disbelief, eyes wide. “What were you supposed to do?” I mumbled to myself again in a mocking tone, rolling my eyes. I put my hands on the back of the empty chair in front of me I assumed had held Spencer at one point, and leaned in toward him. He’d retreated behind the table since releasing me, and I quietly snarled towards him, “I don’t know, but sitting there on your tiny, plushy ass, wasn’t it. I’m leaving.”

Spencer was back over to me in a flash, slamming his hand on the door before I could even reach for the handle. Someone got better reflexes. I cocked an eyebrow at him.

“We have a suspect list that we want you to review.” Hotch caught me before I pushed Spencer out of my way.

“Fine. Make it quick.” I looked over the list Hotch gave me that contained about 30 men, none of which rang any bells. “This was a waste of time.”

“Hold on, guys,” Garcia trotted in, “I just found something.” She was in such a rush that she initially didn’t see me, bee-lining it straight for Hotch. Handing the iPad over to him, her eyes lifted to take in the rest of the room. That’s when she noticed me. Her eyes grew to the size of beach balls, and her perfectly done lips hung open. I tried not to feel too hurt, knowing that my presence would come as a shock to her, but it still stung seeing her at a loss for words, possibly even scared. She’d really been the only person who still had any hope left for me, and I was starting to wonder if that was true anymore.

My voice softened as I greeted, “Hey, Penelope.”

She struggled for words, a few ‘uhs’ and ‘ums’ headed my direction, ultimately being saved by Hotch. “Dave, you’re with me. Prentiss, Morgan, I want you to go to the ME, Garcia we’ll need you on call, and JJ, Lewis, I want you to go talk to this man.”

“What about me?” Spencer asked.

“You’re going to stay here and watch her,” Hotch commanded. I started laughing at Spencer’s visible discomfort. Spencer glared at me before opening his mouth to argue, but Hotch stopped him with a voice filled with authority, “I know you won’t be able to focus out there if you know she’s still here unattended. Let’s go.”

When everyone had left and the door shut behind them, I sang, “Well if it isn’t Doctor Reid drawing the short end of the stick, yet again.”

“Just sit down and shut up,” he tried to order with confidence as he took his own advice, sitting as far away from me as possible. Not once had he looked me in the eyes since I’d initially walked in and he had attacked me. Sure, his eyes were on me, but they never connected with mine.

“Is that a demand, doctor?” I challenged him.

“No, but it could be. I just don’t want to be the one responsible for letting you get away.” He shrugged in his chair, resting the ankle of his leg on the knee of the other.

“So you’re just gonna trust me to do what you ask?” I questioned. Throughout the entire time I’d known Spencer, he’d never gotten super riled up over something, but this was a whole different Spencer, one that I didn’t recognize or know . He was more on edge, confident, and clearly willing to wrap his hand around my throat with no hesitation. A type of Spencer I was more than happy to get to know. And let’s face it, I’d been in prison for 15 months. There wasn’t a ton of action going on in there that I wanted to get involved with. I just wanted to see how far I could push him before he snapped. “You don’t trust me, and you know you can’t. I put you in prison, just because I could,” I shrugged, contradicting what I’d insinuated earlier for my own entertainment, “and you think that I won’t just walk away from you when given the chance?”

“You’ve had the chance. For the past three minutes and forty-six seconds you could have left and you didn’t. What’s keeping you here?” he smugly fired back. Oh yeah, he’s definitely going to be fun to mess with.

“What’s keeping you here?” I copied, “Why’d Hotch bench you again? Because you can’t focus when I’m around?”

“No one can focus with you around!” he huffed hotly.

“Not well, but they certainly can do better than what you’re doing right now,” I patronized, “What is it about me that makes you all so nervous, huh? I’m just another criminal who happens to be a former co-worker. I thought you were used to working with those day in and day out.”

“Criminals or co-workers?”

“Either.”

“None of them are like you,” he bit.

“Oh I know,” I ran my tongue over my lips, “So I’ll ask again, what is it about me that makes me so different?”

He looked up at me. In contrast to the first time he locked eyes with me, his expression was stone cold. “You were a part of this team, and you betrayed us. You betrayed me. I don’t know how I could’ve been so stupid to believe you were actually helping us! I just want to know why you picked me. You were going to take one of us down, why’d you choose me?” I could see the gears spinning in his head, and was about to answer when he frustratedly added, “Was it because you thought I’m the weakest?”

That’s it. That’s what’s always made him tick. And he used the present tense. We were still an entire table length apart, so I started slowly sauntering toward him. I prodded, “Is that what you think? You believe you’re the weakest on the team? Or do you just think that’s what I thought?”

“We all have our roles,” he responded, but not nearly as confident as he had been before.

“That’s not an answer,” I pushed.

“You still haven’t answered me, either,” he growled, and I decided to let this one go. We didn’t need to fully delve into his insecurities, no matter how much I wanted to.

“It was similar to that. You were the most afraid of me, I could smell it in the air.” I closed my eyes and pretended to revel in the stench of fear. “But, I could’ve gotten any one of them if I wanted.”

Spencer scoffed at that, “I think you overestimate your abilities.”

“I don’t,” I quickly fired back, “I could’ve gotten any of them, and to be honest, I was going to go after Derek, or maybe Emily, but then you spoke up from the corner of the room and I knew it had to be you.”

“Why?”

“Why this, Aundreya, and why that, Aundreya? Is that the only question you can ask?”

“Is it the only question you can’t answer?”

I was about halfway to him now, and decided to give him a little false hope. “I picked you, not because of your intellect, or how the rest of the team coddles you, or how relationship starved you are. I picked you because I could see something in your eyes that was different, something dark. And once I heard your full back story, I realized just how similar the two of us are.”

“We are nothing alike,” he insisted.

“Really? Because had you made one different choice or one thing went just a little bit wrong, you could have ended up just like me, with no family and no one to give a shit about you or what you do, except for the cops who just wanted you locked up and controlled.” I was dangerously close to him now, his head tilted to look at me, but he didn’t cower away. He actually seemed to welcome it. Which reminded me of something, “After knowing all of that, my past and everything I was, you still agreed to let me on your team.”

“I was the last person to say yes to you joining,” he informed me. This was news to me, but I couldn’t even be sure if he was telling me the truth. “I didn’t think it was a good idea for you to be working with us, but I was outnumbered and outranked.”

“No, you caved to their wishes,” I twisted his words to suit my needs, “Like you caved to mine.” I slowly reached down to place a hand on his chest. He eyed it all the way until I made contact with him, and it was like flipping a switch. He grabbed my wrist and held it close as he pushed out of his chair, the wheels spinning it wildly back into the monitor. He reached for my other wrist, which I let him grab, and held me against the wall, arms pinned next to my head. I did everything I could to not smirk. And he’s still caving.

“I didn’t want you here. I resisted the idea of you being around us,” he spat.

“Like you’re resisting the idea of being around me right now?” I arched an eyebrow, scanning him from head to toe, and I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger on a few spots. He opened his mouth to say something, but he shut it again, locking his jaw. I could see his genius mind at work, trying to come up with some way out of the little mouse trap I’d set up for him. I watched his eyes trail down to my lips and neck, soaking it all in. When his eyes met mine again, I tried to reach for him, but he forcefully slammed my hands back, pinning me to the wall again. Though, I wanted him to touch me this time. He was taking too long to make a move for my liking, so I decided if I couldn’t use my arms, I might as well use my legs.

All of his weight was already leaning toward me, so it wasn’t difficult to wrap my right leg around his waist and bring him all the way to me. The moment that they were within inches of my face, I attacked his lips. I was almost disappointed by the fact that he didn’t seem surprised at all, as if he knew how impatient I was and knew that I would force the first move. But, I wasn’t disappointed for long.

Spencer’s whole body was pressed against mine as he quickly swiped his tongue across my bottom lip, looking for entrance. I granted it, but I wasn’t going to give him the complete dominance that he wanted over the kiss. Instead, our tongues slid over each other’s searching for more than the other was willing to give. It was hot and messy, and he released his grip on my wrists, moving them to apply the same amount of force to my jaw. With my hands free, I made quick work of the buttons on his dress shirt, ripping it open. I was expecting skin and sighed when I found yet another shirt. This man and his layers.

Spencer took advantage of me sighing, giving him more access to my mouth, which I wanted to be annoyed about, but couldn’t care to be. I decided to make better use of my hands, running them down the sides of his body as he wrapped his behind my back. He pulled away from me so abruptly when I tried to massage him through his slacks, he basically dropped me on the floor. It was like being left out in a cold winter storm, just barely out of arm's reach of warmth.

Spencer shook his head, eyes on the floor, as if that would clear his mind of what clouded it, which was me. But I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “There. You got what you wanted.”

I gaped at him before retorting, “We both know it wasn’t just me who got what I wanted. I’m sure you had a hard time pulling away.”

He glared at me as he rolled the chair back toward the desk and took a seat, “Not really. I have important work to do.”

I stood there staring at him trying to compose himself. His face was red and he tugged at his pants before crossing his leg over the other. I pressed my lips together, but still failed to contain the small laugh that escaped through my nose.

“Sure,” I mocked, “Especially since everyone else on the team is already doing that work for you.” He didn’t look up from whatever papers were on the table, trying in vain to ignore me, though I wasn’t ready to have his attention off me yet.

I shut the folder that he was in the middle of reading, not like he was actually reading it considering how long it was taking him to flip the page, and sat right on top of it. He was about to reach for it again, but retracted his hand at lightning speed when my legs got in the way. I flashed another mockingly sweet smile his way, but he looked out toward the window, right next to the wall I’d just come from. I swung my legs back and forth off the side of the table just a bit, careful not to completely kick Spencer in the shin, though I couldn’t help but let my toes accidentally tap him a few times. As with all of the other times I’d touched him, he moved out of the way, uncrossing his legs with a perfect foot-sized gap in between his knees. I rested my foot in that small gap on the chair, rolling his body closer to me. Then, for no other reason than wanting to feel him squirm underneath me, I plopped down on his lap, my legs straddling his. I pretty much had him locked in his seat.

“What are you doing?” he questioned, a look of complete indifference gracing his face, but I knew it was just a front.

“Just making sure you’re doing your job,” I replied, winking at him.

“And… how do you think this is helping me do my job?”

“I’m making sure you’re paying attention to me,” I whispered in his ear seductively, lacing my fingers together on the back of his neck, “Plus, I’m doing what you asked me to. How did you put it? Sit down and shut-”

Using his thumb and forefinger, he pinched my cheeks and brought my lips to his forcefully. The kiss was just as hungry as the last, teeth clashing and tongues furiously fighting. He moved his long fingers onto my hips with a bruising grip, which I had absentmindedly started grinding against his. He pulled away from me for a moment, and his harsh tone reminded me that this was nothing like the last time we’d been together, when we’d both been a bit more innocent. “You never did have any manners at work.”

I smirked, “I know. Imagine my manners at home.”

A low, almost inaudible groan came from Spencer’s throat at my suggestion, but he tried to cover it up by moving my hair out of the way and latching his lips onto the side of my neck. I gasped at the contact of his teeth pulling at my soft flesh, paired with the feeling of his growing bulge pressed against my core. His fingers gripped my hips harder and moved them faster, drawing a small whimper from my lips. I felt him smile as he trailed kisses down my neck to my collar bone, leaving a single bite mark there. I tried so hard to contain my high-pitched moan when he moved one of his hands from my waist to pinch one of my nipples through my shirt.

But I was supposed to be the clear-headed one, so I forced myself to not get too wrapped up in the feeling. If I wanted to get to my end goal, I was going to have to leave him wanting more, which unfortunately in turn meant leaving myself in the same condition.

My hips had gotten faster along with Spencer’s hands, but when I felt him start to buck his hips up against me, I knew that he was getting close and it had to end. Immediately, I stopped my movements and untangled myself from him, but not before dragging a finger up the column of his throat, sneering, “Too bad. I could’ve helped you, had you done anything to help me.”

I left that open for interpretation, either as a jab to his masculinity or to what started my rage in the first place: being left in prison. He didn’t ask for clarification either, clearly too bothered by being left on edge. He did, however, follow up with, “Help you? Why would I want to do that? You’re a terrible person.”

I grinned as if receiving a medal of honor, “That I am, Doctor.”

I moved the lay down on the couch while Spencer attempted to refocus on his work. I made a show of sighing a couple times and rolling around ‘to find a comfortable position’ on the couch, just to piss him off. I could tell it was working based on his clenched fists turning white, and the way his leg was jumping. He was resting his head in his hand, which almost perfectly shielded my face from his.

He still wasn’t turning the page, so I offered, “Can you flip the page by yourself, or do you need some help?”

He wasn’t given the opportunity to respond, because Hotch, followed by most of the team, came barreling through the door.

“Colby Ulton, 43 years old, has a long record and wasn’t home,” JJ announced, following Hotch. It’d been a while since I had to deal with their inhuman pace when it came to talking about unsubs and profiles, so most of the stuff they said next flew over my head.

I was way behind in the conversation, but none of that mattered when Hotch turned to me, “Colby Ulton. I want you on him.” He'd barely gotten the command out before I was reaching for the door handle.

“I don’t.” The words were hot and dry and coming from none other than Doctor Reid. I rolled my eyes. He moved to step in front of the door, blocking my passage out again, leaning casually with his back against it, arms crossed. Our faces were barely centimeters apart.

“Why not?” I asked in a mock-curious voice.

“I don’t trust you. Who’s to say you won’t just run off? Then we’d let a high-profile criminal walk free. Plus, we’re not even sure he’s the right man,” Spencer pointed out. I was going to point out how I had just made that same argument about me leaving, and he refuted it himself only to bring it back up now, but I didn’t get the chance.

“He’s the best we’ve got right now,” Derek countered. I could tell he sort of just wanted me out of the room, but Spencer’s motives appeared very different.

He never took his eyes off of mine as he recited, “We think it’s a rogue gang member who’s either left or been kicked out within the past year. Ulton’s been in prison, which could mean he’s gone rogue, or it could mean he’s joined a new gang, one that, as you probably know, wouldn’t allow this type of acting out. Either way, he hasn’t demonstrated gang affiliated behavior in almost three years. Not to mention he had his tattoo removed and is out of our age range. I don’t think putting her on, most likely, the wrong man’s trail is worth the risk of letting her walk free.”

The room was silent as we all waited for someone else to make the first move. I decided to be that person. “So what do you suggest they do with me, hm?” I questioned, walking my two fingers up his chest with each word. Then I leaned in and made it very clear, “Because I am not going back to prison.”

I bit his earlobe on the way back, and I saw the way his pupils dilated just slightly at the feeling, “I’ll watch her for the night.”

“What?” Derek and I said at the same time, but our facial expressions were very different.

“Yes,” he stated, more confidently now, “She has nothing to do right now, but we might need her later in the investigation, so sending her all the way back to prison doesn’t make sense.”

“And you'll make sure she doesn’t escape?” Derek questioned.

“She hasn’t so far, has she?” Spencer challenged. When he got unnerved looks from the rest of the team, he assured, shooting a small smirk my way, “Trust me, she won’t.” How cute. He thinks he can wrap his skinny little fingers around my neck and pull a moan from me once, and all the sudden he’s in control. He switched our position, pinning me up against the door, clasping the handcuffs back around my wrists in front of me. I was starting to think he had a thing for pushing people into walls. It was his turn to whisper in my ear, “And you won't want to.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

When we arrived back at his apartment, I took a moment to survey the room. It looked almost exactly as it had the last time I’d been there. Books piled up everywhere, papers strewn all over the desk, a little dark and dusty, maybe a bit more worn, but nothing too out of the ordinary. The only difference was that it no longer suited him as well anymore. He used to be this shy, studious, loner-type that didn’t really like people, and he had a certain innocence about him. There was nothing innocent about him anymore. He didn’t seem shy either, much more confident; still studious and a loner though. However, I bet he liked having at least one person over at all times, or not being home at all. It meant that he didn’t have to be alone with his own mind, and after being in solitude myself, and knowing that he’d been in there too, that feeling of complete silence, utter aloneness, was something we’d never want to experience again. We were honestly perfect for each other in that way.

The other thing I’d noticed, based on what I'd seen of him within the last few hours and what I knew prison could do to a person, I guessed he went off of instinct rather than intelligence more than he ever had in his life.

Spencer had to take the time to shrug off his satchel and kick off his shoes, neither of which I even had. All I had was myself and what I was wearing, which wasn’t much. At least I wasn’t in an orange jumpsuit anymore.

“Wow, you’ve really renovated the place,” I snickered. Spencer didn’t say anything, just rolled his eyes and brushed past me. I forced my wrists outward a couple times, making a clanking sound with the cuffs, asking, “You gonna take these off?”

He faced me with a smirk and shook his head slightly, “Don’t think so.” Pulling out a chair at the puny kitchen table, he sat down, and I felt like we were much in the same position we’d been in at the office. I was in his home turf, if I could even call it that, but I wasn’t just going to let him be in charge.

I decided to go straight for the jugular, “Why’d you bring me home, Spence?”

“This isn’t home, not for you,” he snapped.

I scoffed, “Doesn’t look like it is for you, either, but that doesn’t change the question.”

“I told you. I didn’t want to risk you running away.”

“You didn’t want to lose me?” I inquired. He could hear the way I was rephrasing it to change the narrative, not like I was wrong, but he successfully dodged it.

“I didn’t want to lose an asset over the wrong man, tipping the right one off, and potentially risking him going underground. I’m just trying to catch an unsub,” he shrugged.

“You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?” I shook my head in amusement.

“You don’t?” he cocked an eyebrow.

“Of course I do,” I quickly answered.

“Then answer this,” Spencer squared his shoulders, now completely facing me, “Why didn’t you run the moment you got the chance?”

“I had three FBI personnel in the car with me, then a team of BAU agents surrounding me, and then was left alone in the same room as an agent who can shoot 100 on his test. I am many things, but I am not stupid nor am I suicidal.”

“How’d you know I shot 100?” Spencer followed up.

I smiled, “I know things.”

“How about all the chances you got when you were in prison? You’ve broken out plenty of times before, why not do it again?” He was leaning forward, and he seemed genuinely curious.

It was a good question, one that I actually hadn’t pre-thought the answer to. Frankly, I wasn’t expecting to even make it this far. “I was biding my time.”

“For..?”

“Leverage.” It was a simple word, but one that seemed to make a great impact. Spencer leaned back in his chair and contemplated my answer. It wasn’t a complete lie either, I just didn’t want to give away too many details.

Spencer finally whispered, “Against?”

I flashed him a wicked smile. “You.” His face contorted into something I couldn’t fully recognize, eyes narrowing. “You, Spencer. I’ve been waiting for you to make an error, a mistake. That was the one flaw in my plan, that while I picked the easiest to emotionally manipulate, I picked the hardest to mentally manipulate. And you don’t make very many mental mistakes, do you Spencer?” I asked, approaching him. I’m really hoping you’d like to cash one in right now, though. I could practically see the internal argument being fought inside Spencer’s head; one side telling him to give in, it wasn’t that bad, the other telling him to resist, that somehow, this would corrupt him further. I needed the former to win. “You wouldn’t let yourself get caught up in the moment, would you? You wouldn’t crack, take what you want, what you need, what you deserve against your better judgement. Because you’re all brain, Spencer. All brain, and no heart.”

That’s what did it.

Spencer literally swept me off my feet, tossing me onto the couch like a rag doll. His hand returned to my throat as if it belonged there, and he pushed open my legs with his knees. My hands may have been cuffed, but they could still be useful. I moved them to start unbuttoning his shirt when he swatted them away. He spat, “I’m not heartless. Not like you.”

“No,” I agreed, “You’re worse. At least I can admit to what I am. You just hide behind a badge and gun.”

Spencer shoved two fingers in my mouth, probably trying to shut me up. I smirked, running my tongue up and down the long digits, making sure to give him a preview of what was to come if he’d let it. His other hand trailed down the side of my body until it reached the waistband of the pants I was wearing. Forcefully, he yanked them down, taking my panties with them. I knew I was already pooling, but of course he had to rub it in. Snarky, he mocked, “For someone who talks a big game, you’re already looking pretty weak.”

I silently cursed my body for finding him arousing, and was about to have to come up with a clever comment when I saw Spencer pause. He was charging straight into this, and then he just stopped. I tilted my head, “Worried you don’t have it in you?”

Spencer met my eyes, and cooly stated, “I’m not going to let you be my mistake.”

Dammit. When I felt him start to pull away, I knew I had to say something to get him to stay. I needed to turn this into an advantage in his eyes, not just mine. “Why? So you can let this rage build up inside of you, eat away at your every thought, until you snap? What then? You lash out during a case, which causes someone to die, either because of your incapabilities or at your hand? And what for? Because you’re still mad at me? I’m right here in front of you, Spencer! You’re never going to get a chance like this again, so just do something!” By the end, it was a plea, and one that was brutally answered.

Spencer pushed two of his fingers inside me, already moving at a quick pace. I let out a small yelp at the sensation which clearly pleased Spencer. I attempted to refocus on unbuttoning his shirt, which became increasingly difficult because of how he was curling his fingers to hit that spot just right. I barely finished, pushing his shirt away from his shoulders when he leaned away from me, taking both of his fingers with him. I was about to complain until I saw him dropping his shirt to the ground and unbuckling his belt, pushing his own pants and underwear out of the way in a similar fashion as he’d done to mine. He pumped his fist over his shaft a couple of times before lining himself up between my wide open legs. He teased my clit with the tip of his cock, and I could feel the precum beading there. I bit my lip as I looked up at him.

Spencer’s eyes were blown when he quietly demanded, “Say it.” He wants me to beg. I was okay with him thinking he was in charge for now, so I played into it by shaking my head. He slammed my cuffed wrists against the arm of the couch just above my head, bringing his face so close I could feel his lips brush mine as he repeated, “Say it.”

It was more forceful the second time, and something about his hot breath on my face and the feeling of his hips trying, and failing, to stay still against mine pulled a whimper all too genuine from my lips, “Punish me.”

At my words, he slammed his cock in my entrance, setting a merciless pace. With no time to adjust to his length, the heat burning between my legs got fiercer. The sounds of his hips hitting mine filled the room, both of us trying to control our moans, not wanting the other to know how much we were really enjoying it. My back arched off the couch, sending my fingers over the arm, brushing over thin objects on the small table there. A pen and paper clip.

I pressed my lips together to contain the grin that just about took over my face. Looking down at Spencer, who was way too busy biting marks into my skin, I could tell he hadn’t noticed the detrimental error I’d just realized he’d made. I made quick work of unclasping the cuffs from around my wrists, but left them on loosely just for show.

The coil in my stomach was getting tighter and tighter, and while I usually would have tried to control myself, I let the moans tear through my lungs. This caught Spencer’s attention, perring up at me with a twinkle in his eyes, one that told me he thought he had me. He mouthed into my neck, “This too much for you to handle, Jailbird?”

I scoffed at his pet name. Alright Doctor Reid, you’ve had your fun. Now let me show you how to really be in charge. “Not in the slightest, Mouse,” I quipped. Before he could think, I wrapped my legs around his waist, and put my hands on the back of his head. I flipped us off the side of the couch, landing on top of Spencer. With the wind knocked out of him, I quickly grabbed his wrist, clasping one of the cuffs around it, looping the chain behind the couch leg, then synching the other around his free wrist. I placed his head on the ground and leaned back, tracing patterns on his chest.

It took him a moment to realize what had just happened, but I saw the moment the light went off. “You filthy bitch.”

I chuckled, “It seems as though that genius memory of yours forgot that I’m a criminally sound escape artist.”

He was fuming, but contained himself long enough to ask, “What changed?” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Since last time? You had no problem letting me take control then.”

I simply stated with disgust, “I was soft then.”

“Who’s to say you aren’t still now?” Spencer challenged.

I laced my fingers with his as I pinned them to the ground, my turn to be the one looking down on him, faces only centimeters apart. We locked eyes as I explained, “You can see it too, I know you can. I wake up and see it in the mirror every day, and I see it in you too now. It’s in your eyes. That darkness. That feeling of destruction, of being broken, of being a monster. It’s there. I can see it like it’s my own.”

I expected him to snap at me. To argue with a clever quip. But he didn’t. Spencer leaned up as far as he could and kissed me. Not in the angry, predatory-like way that we had earlier, but really kissed me. I was so taken aback by the gesture that I practically jumped off him after a few seconds. I hated myself for letting it happen for even that long.

I stormed away from him, hissing, “Don’t try to get my sympathy now that you’re the one chained like a dirty animal. I’m not gonna fall for it.”

I saw something quick flash across his face before it hardened again. I could feel his eyes following my every move as I walked away, so I decided to make a show of it. I swished my hips back and forth, and even bent all the way over to pick up our clothes for no reason, just so he could have a perfect view between my legs. I heard the rattle of the cuffs against the couch and smirked to myself.

Tossing the clothes as far away as possible, I reached under my shirt to unclasp my bra, slipping it out one of the arm holes. I spun it around my index finger a couple of times before letting it fly off in the direction of the rest of our clothes. Toying with the hem of my shirt, I rhythmically moved it around my body so that he could only see some exposed skin at a time. I slowly pulled it higher and higher until I removed the garment completely. Standing completely bare in front of him, looking down on his naked body, I’d never felt more in control.

Spencer was drilling holes into me as I got down on my knees, crawling toward him. Again, his hands shot forward only to be stopped by the metal. I tutted, “Now, now, Mouse. That’s not how this works.”

I stroked a single finger up his length, and when it brushed over the tip, he squeezed his eyes shut. I wetted my lips as I wrapped a single hand around his cock, starting at an agonizingly slow pace, a stark contrast to the one he’d set earlier. I had barely started moving at a faster pace when Spencer started to buck his hips up into my hand. I slammed his hips back down with my other arm, giving him a cold look. His hips stilled and I knew he was getting desperate.

I flattened my palm against his lower belly, making sure he’d stay in place as I steadily picked up the pace. Spencer threw his head back when I swiped my tongue over his tip, and huffed when I retracted my hands, breaking contact all together.

I hummed, “Actually, this isn’t that interesting.” I scooted back on the floor, holding eye contact with his piercing irises as I spread my legs wide open for him to see. Neither one of us has had our release yet, so I might as well take mine and leave him high and dry.

I brushed my fingertips down my body, cupping my breasts on the way, until I reached my clit. I started to rub circles over the bundle of nerves, not realizing how close I already was. I let out exaggerated moans as I continued my ministrations, steadily pushing myself toward the edge.

“Stop.” It was barely a whisper, and I wasn’t sure if I even heard it, so I ignored it. Right as another moan ripped through my lungs, I heard Spencer say, louder and more demanding this time, “Stop.”

I was too close to stop. I barely had the mental capacity to smirk down at him before I felt my release crash over me like a tidal wave. For dramatic effect, I whined out Spencer’s name as my walls clenched around nothing, helping myself through my orgasm. Slowly coming down from my high, my head lulled back, release seeping into his rug.

Barely allowing myself to catch my breath, I leaned forward onto my knees, and looked at Spencer’s face, which was red with anger or desperation I couldn’t tell, but brought my lips down on his dick regardless. He grunted at the sensation, and I could feel the heat radiating off of him. I swirled my tongue around him until I couldn’t anymore, opting to just trace a protruding vein instead. I started to hollow out my cheeks when he bucked up into me, forcing me to take all of him in at once. He groaned when I started gagging around his length, and when I coughed after pulling off him, he had the audacity to laugh.

“Having trouble there, Jailbird?” Spencer smugly asked. I looked down at his length laying against his stomach and saw that it was a deep red, and had to have been painfully hard at that point. With that in mind, along with my recent release, I crawled over him.

I looked at him as I hovered my pussy just above his cock. “I wouldn’t be worried about me. I’d be worried about how you’re gonna take care of yourself with your hands cuffed if I decided I’m done with you.”

That threat wiped the smug look right off his face. I was already wet again, and allowed him to only barely feel what was waiting for him if he behaved, lowering myself down so his length was just brushing my lips.

His face contorted and then he said the word of my victory, “Please.”

Taking hold of his cock in one hand, I lined myself up, and slowly sunk down. He filled me up completely, a bit thicker than I remembered, and I sat comfortably in his lap. This was clearly what Spencer wanted, but there was no way in hell it was going to be that easy. I just sat there looking at him, and based on the crazed look on his face, he was expecting me to start moving immediately.

We stared each other down for a moment before his whole body jerked forward, hands yanking on the cuffs. It was my turn to laugh at his pathetic struggles, but I still didn’t have quite what I wanted yet. Raising my hips up, I quickly slammed them down, pulling the loudest groan I’d heard from Spencer. When I didn’t move again, he started squirming underneath me, and I asked, “What is it you want me to do, Mouse?”

Then he broke, his strangled pleas music to my ears, “God, fuck me, please, just fuck me!”

I grinned as I captured his lips in a vicious kiss, pulling his bottom lip between my teeth. Steadying myself with my palm on his chest, I lifted my hips up, only to let them fall back into his lap. I started slower than either of us wanted, letting myself adjust to his full size before bouncing freely on his dick. The sounds of our heavy moans filled the air, sweat collecting on our bodies.

I was honestly surprised at how long Spencer had lasted when he let out one final shriek before coming undone below me. He’d given up, completely relaxed on the floor as I started chasing my second orgasm. Spencer peered up at me through hooded eyes, and soon enough starting letting out cries, and I knew I was pushing him. I didn’t want to completely overwhelm him but I was so close…

I wouldn’t get there, not yet anyway, because Spencer did something I was not expecting. The couch hit the floor with a loud thud, giving Spencer the freedom to move his arms. He wrapped the chain of the cuffs around the back of my neck and flipped me over in one swift motion, almost identical to how I’d just done it to him.

I was completely caught off guard, and let a surprised squeak leave my lips. I was almost impressed. Almost.

As if he could see straight into my mind, Spencer remarked, “I’m a quick study.” His entire body weight was over me, and there was very little wiggle room for an escape.

I followed Spencer’s eyes as he scanned around the room, glanced at his wrists, then sighed when he spotted his pants. Must’ve been where he put the key.

I raised my pitch and snidely sang like a schoolgirl, “Whatcha gonna do Mouse? You gonna fuck me like the inmate you are, or are you gonna free yourself, hm?”

Pressing his hands down on either side of my perfectly laid out ones above my head, the chain between the cuffs digging into my forearms, he chided, “I’m sure I can handle you just fine with them on. I’m not quite done with you yet, Jailbird.”

My walls fluttered around his cock at the gravelly sound of his voice and the threat that accompanied it. It’s as if he’s chained to me. I shuddered happily at the thought.

“Is that what this is about?” Spencer hissed, clearly catching my pleased look and the way my pussy pulled him in a little more at his harsh words, “You just enjoy seeing me as some twisted killer?”

“I enjoy seeing you for who you truly are.”

I wasn’t able to form another coherent thought after that one, the pace Spencer was pounding into me like one I’d never felt. He fucked his cum from only seconds ago back into me, the wet sound of our mixing fluids filling the room. I could barely focus on where his hands had moved to, teasing my nipples, because the fire between my legs was jumping higher and higher. As it finally burned through me in the sweetest way possible, I reached to grab onto anything, the first thing my fingers found being Spencer’s hair. He growled when I tugged, but his pace never let up.

As I came down from my high, Spencer didn’t stop. The feelings were becoming too strong, too overpowering, pleasure bordering on pain. I tried to pull my hips away from his, but there was nothing I could do. To stop my squirming, he sat back slightly and pressed his large palms down on my hip bones. Moving also changed the angle he was slamming into me, now bottoming out with each thrust. I needed some reprieve.

“Spencer,” I whined, but there was a nothingness in his eyes.

His hands snaked up to my throat, applying massive pressure to my windpipe. “Is this what you wanted?” Spencer yelled, “Is this what you think I truly am?”

I was having trouble getting the air into my lungs, let alone respond. I wanted to force him to face his reality of being an ex-con, knowing how shitty it was to be on the inside and just letting me sit in there. A consequence of my own actions, but considering I was doing it to save him, I was looking for a little bit more effort on the getting out process.

But he’d left me in there. He didn’t care. He didn’t care despite the fact that he knew what I was going through, that I could tell he was still dealing with his own PTSD and not well, and that everything had changed for him. People looked at him and treated him differently. He was a different person. Corrupt. And he’d only been in there for not even three months.

I’d been in there for five times as long.

I wanted him to realize just how much damage him and his useless team were doing to me by not helping me get out. I wanted him to realize how fucked up that was, and how terrible of a person that made him. I wanted him to realize he was just as big of a monster as I was.

I accomplished that. But I underestimated how much darkness he’d really been holding back.

My head started to feel light, and I could tell I was on the brink of my third release. The sound of skin slapping skin was sinful and I couldn’t focus on anything other than the feeling of his tip hitting my a-spot, the way my legs were shaking around his body, the way the muscles in his back felt against my nails as I clawed them down it. My release came quicker than Spencer’s, who wasn’t too far behind me. His thrusts became shallower, as he spilled into me for the second time. It was as if all the energy had been drained out of me in an instant, along with my anger and hatred. Spencer rolled off of me, and I saw his figure weakly collapse to the ground.

It was an eerie calm, the sound of absolute nothingness, the only disturbance being our labored breathing.

I didn’t know how long it’d been when Spencer’s voice, the softest I’d heard it since the day’s start, whispered, “Are you okay?”

I glanced at him with a confused look. He let out a small sigh at my non response, collecting himself before walking over to his long forgotten pants for the cuffs key. After freeing his wrists, he walked back over to me and helped me up, ushering me to the bathroom.

I could tell he was examining me, but it wasn’t until I stood in front of the mirror that I realized why. “Look at those bruises around your neck, Jailbird. They suit you.”

The bruises were deep and already turning a nice purple. I scanned the rest of me finding more bruises on my hips, thighs, shoulders, wrists, and not to mention the bite mark on my collar. I scanned Spencer next, his only bruises coming from his wrists and the red marks I left on his back. “I wasn’t expecting that from you.”

He met my eyes in the mirror, “What were you expecting?”

I shook my head, “I don’t know.” I truly didn’t. I went into it knowing I wanted to force him to see everything he had, everything he was, but I guess I didn’t really think about what that would force me to see. My exhaustion started to give way to a heap of emotions, and a single, involuntary tear escaped my eye. Spencer brushed his fingers over my neck, simultaneously pulling my hair behind my shoulder.

He kissed the tender, bruised skin, and I remembered the times before, the times when it felt like we’d really been in love. I felt his breath on me as he mumbled, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I turned on my heels to face him, “You didn’t.”

I didn’t know what compelled him to confess what I never thought he would, but he sounded deeply ashamed when admitting, “I wanted to.”

“What stopped you?” I was genuinely curious. We’d hurt each other in the most extreme ways before today, getting the other sent to a cage in hell, betraying each other.

“I’m broken, but I’m not beyond repair, and hurting you would make me someone that I don’t want to be.”

I gave him a tired smile, and all I could muster was, “Pretty convincing.”

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“Don’t be, you didn’t. You couldn’t,” I assured him. It was the truth.

“I should’ve,” he bit, looking down at his hands, which were so delicately holding my waist I couldn’t be sure he was even touching me.

“Why?” I questioned, the seriousness evident in my voice, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He shook his head, and a stray curl or two tickled my forehead. “I could’ve.”

“I trusted you not to.” I clasped my hands together and rested them on his back.

Spencer’s shaky voice matched his glistening eyes as they locked with mine, “I just wasn’t sure. All I know is that I scare myself sometimes.”

I pressed my forehead against his own, “Well, then I guess we’re two people who have nothing to fear other than ourselves.”

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missorgana · 3 years

Text

everything has changed

pairing: darcy lewis/monica rambeau

fandom: marvel cinematic universe

rating: general

word count: 2612

summary: Monica pines, Jimmy gives her Darcy's number, and they meet again. (post wv finale reunion)

(once again crossposting late but hello!! i’ve been wanting to write these dorky girlfriends for ages but alas life! distractions! this doesn’t have much of a plot as much as just... darmonica being soft and jimmy getting them together cus 💞 hope u still enjoy!)

read on ao3

“Debriefs are for the weak.”

Monica mulls over Darcy’s parting words for her with a repressed chuckle, realising just how many hours the task is going to take her. And paperwork has only just begun.

It’s no surprise, of course.

In a short time, she’s dealt with a wide range of emotions. Monica’s done her job the way she knows how to, but this was no ordinary job.

Confusion, frustration, anger, shock, revelation. A strange force sparkling inside her, a power Wanda gave her without even realising it, and one she has to adjust to, like she’s adjusted to so much else in her existence after the return of the population post-blip.

She’s got most of those feelings pinned down, but one. One she suspects got a whole lot to do with a certain Doctor Darcy Lewis.

That must be why the shorter woman’s immediate leave left a certain pull in her chest, but really, how could she convince her to stay? For what reason? Monica felt ridiculous just considering it, if she could go back in time, mere hours ago, and yet it would probably be no different.

Darcy got a lift out of Westview, to where, she has no idea, of course. And she’s left bent over a desk with her fellow S.W.O.R.D colleges swarming around her, as well as Jimmy’s FBI unit.

Speaking of Jimmy, he knocks her out of her head on the non-existent door (the whiteboard, that is) and holds up the tray of coffees with a grin. She returns it, despite the lack of sleep making her eyes burn.

“Mind if I interrupt?” he says, and she’s already reaching for the cup, so the question is merely out of politeness, anyway. But she doesn’t mind, obviously.

“Thank you,” Monica answers, scooting over to allow him to sit, and he protests against it because he’s just too damn nice, so she insists, “I could honestly use a break, don’t worry about it. Seriously.”

And so they sip their beverages, revelling in the relative silence there could be in a space full of government officials and sounds of wheels and choppers and constant phone calls. She’s used to it. It’s just a little too much right now. Can you blame her?

“Looks to be a long night, huh,” Jimmy starts again, a chuckle that sounds as tired as she’s feeling.

Monica smiles again and rubs a hand over her face, “Several of them, I fear.”

He nods, “You think Wanda’s gonna be okay?”

She takes a minute with it, and really, Monica knows all these Avengers… superheroes , deal with unspoken shit and the fate of the world on their shoulders. Doesn’t mean they’ll be able to handle it, though. In fact, it makes her wonder if she’d be okay, herself.

And she wonders if Carol’s okay. She hasn’t thought about her in a long time.

It’s not much of an answer, but she figures she ought to say something, “I hope so.”

The silence between them settles again, and Monica flips a page before taking another sip, Jimmy seeming somewhat satisfied with the answer. It’s a guess, at the most. But a qualified guess, perhaps? It’s something .

When he picks up the conversation for the third time, it surprises her, “Are you okay?”

“Sorry?”

“I was just-” he stops himself mid-sentence, chuckling at the thing awkwardly and fidgeting with the paper cup, “Forgive me, I talk too much for my own good, sometimes.”

Monica shakes her head, sighs, rests her chin on one hand, sort of in an attempt to stay awake, “It’s fine. Just thinking.”

When he nods and downs the last gulp of coffee, looking like he’s about to leave her to the tedious work once more, her brain surprises herself, this time, pronouncing the words before even registering what she’s saying, “You think Darcy’s gonna be fine? I mean, uh, on her own.”

Jimmy’s face showcases mild confusion. Nevertheless, he sits down again, and before answering her question, turns the page for her. She feels overwhelmingly grateful.

“She doesn’t take any bullshit, excuse the language,” and they both share a laugh, because it’s too true, “Definitely. You worried about her, though?”

Well. The tight knot in her gut signals a definite yes. Yet Monica feels like an idiot for it, because they’ve known each other for, what, two weeks? She tries to lie. Somehow, she senses that the man doesn’t believe it.

“Nah.”

Pause. “No?”

She pauses herself. Chews the inside of her cheek, “I mean, I am. But it’s stupid. Should I?”

Jimmy’s confusion seems to fade in an instant, which Monica finds rather peculiar. Maybe she’d comment on it, if she could figure out how.

Sleep deprivation hangs over her being like a dark cloud, while the image of the doctor rests permanently at the very front of her mind. Gosh, it’s so obvious.

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” he assures her, flipping the next page, and the next, a kind of routine being developed, “I’ve got her number, though, if you want.”

Monica feels her hands freeze up, then.

It’s almost like her new friend can read her mind, and it’s a little bit scary. She resumes the work, the faster they do, the faster they’ll get the fuck out of here. But the look in Jimmy’s eyes is like a hilarious know-it-all sort of thing, minus the smug demeanor, because he’s incapable of that, she thinks.

“You have?”

“Yes, I mean, we got the information of all the specialists, heh,” he says, because obviously they do, and nods again in a funny sort of way, “But thought you might want it.”

“Oh.”

“Just, uh, you asked.”

“I did! I did, I…” Monica doesn’t really know where she’s going, now. Her voice gets rather its own life, and she has to return to the top of the paragraph to understand what it’s saying, “Thank you. Not sure she’d wanna hear from me, though.”

Jimmy frowns. “What happened to the boss lady I met two weeks ago?”

“Oh, shut it.” she snorts. He scribbles down the number on a scrap of paper and hands it to her with a satisfied grin. If a warmth spreads to replace the knot in her stomach, then sue her.

“You doing anything Friday?”

This is the question that repeats itself in Monica’s head as she comes to stand in front of Darcy Lewis’ front door, contemplating whether to knock, ring the bell, or chicken out and leave what those feelings in her chest are doing unresolved.

Of course, she won’t step down, not when she’s come this far.

Despite playing it relatively cool when Jimmy handed her the contact information, she did a lot of overthinking before picking up the phone.

Considering and planning every word, then, when the woman’s sunny voice rings in her ears, considering every word she receives. Monica never thought talking to someone she liked - or, well, more than liked, could be quite so terrifying.

“What up, sucker,” the voice had said, Darcy never failing to make her laugh, even without knowing, it seems. “Darcy? It’s Monica.”

She convinced herself the minimal pause wasn’t just in her own head, “Monica! I- I’m glad to hear from you.”

“Sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting-”

“Never.”

If the phone call made Monica horribly flustered, she couldn’t imagine what being in the same room as the shorter woman again could entail. Honestly still unbelievable that the doctor invited her over. It’s like she read her mind. And somehow, she does it again when the door opens at the same second as Monica convinces herself to finally raise her hand to the bell, and there she stands. She’d shush the butterflies in her gut to quiet down, but it’s quite a difficult task when Darcy stands in front of her, wearing a red cable knit sweater two times too big on her frame, raven hair lacking the beanie and eyes lacking glasses.

Monica finds herself swallowing around a lump in her throat she wasn’t even aware of till now.

The doctor’s instant smile and deep dimples don’t exactly help. She’s got a somewhat mischievous glint in her eye, and is already pulling on her wrist for a hug before saying anything, “You came!”

Her smile transfers to Monica’s own lips with ease. She doesn’t really know what to do with her hands. Not very used to this hugging thing.

“You sound surprised,” she replies, attempting a chuckle, but feeling painfully awkward in the process.

And when Darcy draws back, she does one of those funny faces that isn’t a frown, but rather a sign that she’s thinking of a joke, tilting her head to the side and her tongue poking out in the corner of her mouth.

Monica also doesn’t know why it makes her feel even warmer. Like the sun’s breathing in and out right above her, but never so far to scorch a burn. Never.

But of course, deep down, she does know. That is why she’s here in the first place, isn’t it?

She doesn’t know if the doctor considers her a friend. She didn’t assume so, she’d hoped, and also not, because judging by how her cheeks are already heating up, Monica’s beyond friendly feelings for the other woman already.

Darcy must consider her a friend. People don’t invite people they’ve known for all but two weeks home, usually… do they?

“Just thought you’d have important things to do, you know,” the shorter woman explains, already stepping aside in a silent invitation for Monica to enter, “Too busy for silly little me.” The doctor has a tendency to screw up her voice, too, she’s noticed. Last time, it was to relieve a room filled with tension, now, it pokes at the multiple knots in her chest, unwinding just a tiny bit.

Breathing in, breathing out. Come on, Monica, what are you so stressed for?

“You hungry?” Darcy interrupts her clogged brain again, “I’m not much of a chef, but uh- I’ve got coffee, too! Please ignore the mess.”

The shorter woman’s fumbling with her hands, making herself busy cleaning up after what she assumes is her own dinner. It’s just way, way too adorable.

She almost worries Darcy will fall and break something with the way she’s nearly sprinting to the kitchen, and so assures her she’s fine, really. Monica feels too anxious to sit, so she remains standing, for now.

The doctor starts up the coffee machine regardless.

Stacks of papers and folders on the side of the dining table, oh, she’s been there plenty of times herself. Monica doesn’t even realise she’s fixating on it when Darcy grins sheepishly, and after what feels like an eternity, they both sit.

She folds her hands on the tabletop. Tries desperately fighting her subconscious to not pick at her nails, because it’s a stupidly bad habit that’s got to be left behind. Hasn’t felt this nervous in ages, she realises.

“Debrief went okay?” Darcy asks, gesturing for the milk, an offer Monica takes. This seems easy. Should be easy. She’s making up all the tension in her own head, surely. And to ignore it, she smiles fondly at the thought of their last moment back in Westview, “Yeah. Long. You definitely didn’t miss out.”

The doctor snorts, nods, perhaps just confirming her own theory on the subject.

Then a smirk surfaces on her features, “Hayward getting his ass kicked in jail, I hope?”

And Monica allows herself to laugh, ease taking over her little by little. Coffee was more needed than she realised. So was Darcy’s half-lit flat, muted television going in the background and several open folders scattering the living room rug.

Feels like the doctor’s own little bubble, of sorts. Their little bubble. Hm.

“A girl can dream.”

“Goddamn right.”

So much to her own surprise, the shorter woman pretty much takes all nerves about this reunion right out of her, as simple as popping a balloon.

They’re making small talk, not boring or superficial like any two people who barely know each other, because, somehow, it just feels like they know. Monica can’t understand why. It’s easy for them to be personal, when her thoughts shift to her mom. And she knew Darcy knew Thor, the woman insists she should meet Jane too, and it just makes the butterflies flutter faster and stubbornly.

In fact, Monica doesn’t realise how long they sit there, talking about everything and nothing, until she glances at the clock on the wall and it tells her it’s almost 11PM. Oh, shit.

There goes the nerves again. She doesn’t know what to do with herself with that information in mind, because, ugh, well.

A part of her really, really likes the thought of this as a date. But it’s not a date, that has to be explicit. You know, talked about. Then, what is it, then?

She catches herself itching her fingers, and when she pushes her chair out, something in Darcy’s face shifts. It’s like she instantly understands. But also, a hand lands on her thigh, and Monica can’t exactly process that.

“Ah, shit! I always do this, me and my big mouth…” she grumbles, which is also too adorable, like everything else about the doctor, until her wide eyes gleam in excitement all over again, “Wait, just a moment. Almost forgot.”

The shorter woman retreats to another room in a hurry, leaving Monica strangely lost without her hand and downing the last bit of coffee. She grimaces at the cold liquid. Only encourages the butterflies more.

And then, Darcy returns, but with a bouquet of blue roses looking comically giant in her grasp.

Not what she expected, that’s for sure. But those butterflies in her gut are now having a rave. The doctor scrunches her nose, Monica’s quick to stand up and take the flowers handed to her, and then she’s staring at the baby blue petals in her arms, feeling like she’s in a daydream.

Looking back at Darcy, she’s shifting her weight back and forth on each foot, clearly as nervous as she herself feels when her heart jumps in somersaults. Does this mean what she thinks it means?

“These… are these for me?” Monica finds herself asking.

The shorter woman tilts her head again, but grinning, “Duh.”

She has no idea what to say. All she can think about is the doctor and the flowers and the smile meant for her and how she surely, definitely must be blushing. It’s a little relieving that the woman in front of her is doing the same.

And then Monica feels like an idiot for making sure this reality really is happening, “Why?” and it strains her chest, then, fearing that Darcy might take this back. Instead, the doctor steps a little closer and touches some of the flower heads, straightening some, nodding, satisfied with the arrangement.

She stays in Monica’s space, “I wanted to give flowers to a pretty girl. I mean, uh, if this is… I can totally take it back if this is weird. Ugh, I’m such a bad romantic.”

Talking to herself, Darcy’s so adorable it almost hurts.

The flat also feels a lot warmer than when she arrived, but in an overwhelmingly good way. Their tiny bubble.

Monica tightens her hold on the flowers even more and shakes her head to the flustered doctor, pushing a coil of hair behind her ear. Her reminder to herself, thank Jimmy next time they see each other. How did he read them so easily?

“I like getting flowers from pretty girls, so…”

Darcy’s eyes turn hopeful again, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

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lovlettres-moved · 3 years

Text

tagged by @wh0rism to answer 30 questions and tag some people :D

1. name/nickname: neptune... fake name but it's a name, and tune's the nickname

2. gender: idek at this point ❤️

3. star sign: gemini

4. height: 152cm sounds better than 5'0 but yes im short

5. time: 4:00 am

6. birthday: may twenty nine... im almost 21

7. favorite bands/groups: galileo galilei currently

8. favorite solo artist: mitski currently

9. song stuck in my head: lullaby by iu

10. last movie: mad max.. it was for class i don't watch action

11. last show: sweet home… i just finished it yesterday i am devastated. eunyoo screaming oppa at the end…. im crying

12: when did i create this blog: remade in 2016

13. what do i post: literally EVERYTHING anime.... fashion stuff... poems... literature.... stuff ive read in class and saw on here.... bullshit... lots of pretty pictures

14. last thing googled: libgen (was downloading an ebook)

15. other blogs: @gulabistan (for posting my writing lol)

16. do i get asks: occasionally, i have loads sitting in my inbox rn but i haven't found the right words to answer them with yet

17. why did i choose this url: someone should send me a love letter

18. following: four digit

19. followers: four digit

20. average hours of sleep: when unis open its around 5 to 6 but nowadays i sleep around 9-12 hours and give myself awful headaches

21. lucky number: don't rlly care about those tbh...

22. instruments: im musically incapable

23. what am i wearing: black leggings, black kurti with loads of red n green floral designs on it + pink sweater

24: dream job: opening a small cafe (which is also a library) run alone by me, and also inviting people to have conversations with me about anything in the world in said cafe, i also write cheesy poems and recite them once in a while for the hell of it

25: dream trip: i don't really have one tbh... i will go anywhere with people i care about

26. favorite food: i am in love with food.. i can't choose one but i love rice with anything

27. nationality: personal information ❤️

28. favorite song: i don't have any favs but these days ive been rlly liking washing machine heart by mitski

29. last book read: book of my nights - li young lee (don't recommend it though)

30. three fictional universes you’d like to live in: literally none of them all the fictional universes i know are chaotic and on the verge of collapsing.. none better than our universe

tagging: if ive talked to you.. you can do this 🤩

#who knew I did tag games so fast me neither

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your-turn-to-role · 4 years

Note

Top 5 favorite Vax moments?

i love you people, really i do

(and also my rogue boy)

(and also answering asks when i should be doing theatre homework but fuck it analysing critical role is way more interesting than analysing romeo and juliet in a language i don’t speak)

okay first off know picking just five is impossible and honestly if i were to list every scene i loved about vax we’d have like a hundred, but here’s what’s on my mind at the moment

5. “I have been here before, and I will be here again!”

i love the twins, i love their history, i love their dumb sibling fights, and i love that they have a bear they’ve grown up with that sometimes vex will set loose on her brother during said sibling fights

(but also said bear is not immune to vax)

(really the entire beach prank scene is fantastic, if you wanted to watch, part 1, part 2)

4. Defeating Thordak

first of all - what is with vax and climbing dragons. he has ranged attacks, he doesn’t have to, but like... brimscythe he killed with his usual “run up the dragon’s tail to the head and stab until they stop moving” thing. umbrasyl, he also did that (though didn’t get the killing blow). vorugal he could fly but spend most of the time hovering uncomfortably close to the dragon until he got knocked out of the sky. thordak, again, clung to his head, stabbed until the dragon stopped moving. raishan, hovered uncomfortably close to until he got knocked out of the sky.

but on a serious note about this scene, those super dramatic moments are always fun, and vax clinging to the head of the dragon that killed his mother, the entire reason he became specifically an oath of vengeance paladin, as thordak flies the two of them down into that dark hole and vex goes “vax, be careful!” over the earring, it’s just, real fuckin good

and then we have the actual scene itself and honestly it’s rare to find vax moments that are purely vax moments because he’s so defined by his relationships with other people? almost every moment i could think to list in this post specifically revolves around another person, people say he’s the brooding emo stereotype but like, he’s really not, because that archetype is so characterised by being a loner and vax’ildan “what the fuck do we have in this world except moments with each other” vessar is the complete opposite.

but this is one of those rare few. and like... thordak shaking vax off but vax catching up to him because he’s a hasted flying rogue and can move 240ft and still have two actions left, actually getting justice for his mother, whatever the fuck whisper did where it just turned into a sword for a bit, it was real good

(and then also vex catching up right after and this hug and vex’s quiet “you did it” and just aaahhhh i love)

3. Again, the beard prank

already linked this in the other ask for funniest moments, but like, this scene, it’s so short but so good, it makes me laugh as much now as it did the first time i watched it and i love him so much

2. Charmed by the Briarwoods, the second time

for two reasons here. well, maybe three. first, i just love this disaster bi and The Way He Is When He Gets Charmed, like... vex asks where he is, and his response is “uh..... i’m on top of a thing... i can see very far... everybody is very attractive up here” i adore him

but i also just love how liam played vax being charmed, and like... the very subtle shifting of loyalties? like, matt tells him he can respond, just he considers the briarwoods his closest allies, over vox machina, and he plays that very well, you can see even in everyone else’s reactions to the “where are you?”, like... vax knows they probably got out of there, the briarwoods expected them to die but vax has too much confidence in his friends for that, so he’s anticipating what would be the next best thing for the briarwoods, which is not having any loose members of vox machina wandering around

but at the same time he’s also just asking because there’s some part of his brain that registers he shouldn’t be alone, his friends should be with him, why aren’t they with him? (and like, you can see he gets really confused when vex attacks)

BUT THEN ALSO delilah asks him a direct question and he lies to her?? because telling the truth would put vex in danger?? like matt makes him roll a wis check to see if he’s even capable of it, he’s still charmed, and like, outwardly he doesn’t even really understand that vex and delilah are enemies right now, he’s just like “yes we’re all friends we should all be together”, but some part of him knows that if delilah knew vex was alive, vex would get hurt, and he’s physically incapable of betraying his twin

(and also, though it didn’t work out because of the raven queen deal, i did love the brief thing we got with vax wanting to follow sarenrae and the fact that he uses her to protect them there and just aaaaaaaaaaahhhh)

1. ....am I allowed to count the entirety of episode 57? fuck it, i’m doing it

seriously i can’t pick a favourite moment here. this episode has everything.

it’s his first visit to the raven queen, which is super interesting, it’s the first time that like... vax’s genuine long standing belief in fate is acknowledged, because he barely knew before this that the raven queen held dominion over fate as well as death, keyleth didn’t really know vax was a big believer in fate and got really worried that the raven queen was filling his head with lies, but like... he brought it up first. “this was always supposed to happen, wasn’t it?”

and it’s not the first time the raven queen’s talked to him (or even him to her) but it’s the first time after he really accepts it and, it’s an interesting scene to watch

(it also parallels really interestingly with the percy scene too but that’s a post for another time)

it’s got cute twin stuff after when vax is still pretty out of it from all that (and also him falling asleep on trinket which is also very cute)

even more cute twin stuff after dinner, when he wants to talk to her about percy and they’re both just ridiculous

it’s got further grog and vax pranks (grog spilling the oil very obviously outside his door, vax rolling a 31 to notice it and just looking at it for several seconds, and then picking up as much as he can hold and using it to write immature bullshit all over grog’s door)

laura: i walk by as he’s doing this and say-

vax: d’you wanna help?

vex: you know he can’t read, right?

vax: i picked specifically small words!

percy: preschoolers run amok in my gentle abode.

vax: get busy living or get busy dying

and then, you know, if you’re in an angst mood, you get what you think is a gilmore scene (and i do also love the fact that even though they’re not together and vax would never think of cheating on keyleth, he still takes a second in front of the mirror to make sure he looks good, which is something he has never done for anyone else ever), followed by, the most shocking and effective betrayal in this entire goddamn show!

(which is another real fun scene)

#xombigirl #ask #cr1 #vax'ildan #cr thoughts #text #meta

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reylo-trash-4ever · 4 years

Text

The Game Part 4

LOLOLOL so it’s been years and I bet everyone thinks I’ve fallen off the face of the earth but no bitch, I still live. Quarantine has given me time to write so whoo hoo!! Also, I will for sure be trying to set up an Ao3 account in the near future and that will most likely be my new main source to post this story, so look out for that!

In the mean time, please enjoy the newest installment, and sorry it’s so short. As always, shout outs go to my lovely and wonderful queen beans @scav-eng-er and @mojona1999. Y’all are the GREATEST! Happy Star Wars Day everyone and May the 4th be with you!

The Game: Chapter 4 Rating: PG

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to get my stolen laptop back.” Rey spoke matter-of-factly, her arms crossed over her chest and a defiant look in her eyes as she stared unblinkingly, and unwaveringly, up at Ben.

“I told you, you’d get it back tomorrow,” Ben responded, leaning on the left side of the doorway and blocking any possible entry.

“Yeah, that’s what you wanted, but I decided on something different, so… here I am.”

Rey started out strong, her voice fierce and determined, but she began to doubt herself and feel the weight of his amused gaze getting under her skin once again. She felt awkward standing there without moving, his tall frame towering over her in that intimidating way that she hated.

“And what exactly did you decide?” Ben challenged, raising an eyebrow incredulously at her.

“Let me in and I’ll tell you.” Rey knew it was a long shot, but she was banking on his curiosity to take over common sense and meet her demands. Or maybe she was playing towards the pride he obviously had too much of, either way, she knew she was taking a risk.

Ben’s amused smirk slowly fell from his lips and he didn’t try to hide the annoyed and inconvenienced look that followed. Rey held her breath, waiting for him to slam the door in her face or to yell at her for being so insubordinate, but instead, he let out the smallest of huffs and stepped aside. She took that as her cue to go in and nodded her thanks as she walked past him.

Rey didn’t know what she expected his place to look like, but it certainly wasn’t this. She probably had some idea of a classic ‘rich boy penthouse’ apartment filled with luxuries that no one really needed, like game tables, a hot tub, racks on racks of expensive liquors, but she was wrong. A few steps down the small entryway hall led into a spacious living area with floor to ceiling, tinted glass windows that lined one side of the wall. Further to her left, Rey spotted an open kitchen with a small island in the middle. To her right was another hallway that most likely led to a master bedroom and bathroom. Another ajar door revealed what looked like a study, or some kind of office space. The decor was minimalistic, but definitely nice. Black leather sofas, a massive flat screen television, and marble countertops were just the most noticeable displays of wealth, although she could only assume there were plenty more not as easily seen.

Truth be told, the place had a bit of charm to it. If you could call that uneasy ‘bring one spec of dirt into my home and you’ll be punished’ feeling “charm”. It was more like a picture perfect apartment, something you might see in a magazine.

“So, are you ever going to stop ogling or are you finally going to tell me what you’re really doing here?”

Rey turned over her shoulder and looked back at Ben, who was pushing the door closed behind him. It shut with a click and Rey felt her breath hitching in her throat again. Her plan was shaky, and being alone with a stranger in his apartment was only the beginning of how dangerous this could get. She couldn’t believe she was putting her job, and the possible promotion, at such a risk as this, but there was something about the opportunity that she couldn’t resist.

“Well, Ben,” Rey began as she walked further into the room, pretending to keep her attention anywhere but on him and knowing that if she didn’t, he might see right through her ruse, “you obviously think I’m an idiot and incapable of keeping up with your ‘oh so wonderful’ self.”

Rey paused to wait for his reaction, but he only raised an eyebrow and cocked his head slightly to the right in defense. She took his silence as a cue to continue.

“Why else would you have given me your laptop after already taking mine? you could have easily just walked off with both and left me on my own, so what would you gain by giving me a key piece in learning more about you? Well, that’s when I realized that the answer was probably nothing, and I highly doubt you’re the kind of man who does anything if there isn’t something in it for him. So, then I thought that the laptop switch might be one big show to try and keep me off the trail of what you’re really planning.

“But then I came over here, and from the look of things,” Rey scanned around the room again, letting her watchful eyes linger in the direction of the bedroom and then the front door, “you were a little ‘preoccupied’ to be doing any real work at this point.”

“So, you two met after all?” Ben asked, taking the opportunity while she was in between thoughts to make his way closer to where she now stood. He moved past her and bent down, opening a drawer and pulling out the bottle of wine he intended on having by himself.

“We didn’t, and it’s really none of my business,” Rey said quickly, dismissing her interest and his curiosity on how she might have reacted to his personal life, “I just thought you’d be going through my laptop to get more information on me, since you went through all the trouble of taking it. Except, I can see that my bag lays untouched over on your end table, which means you haven’t even opened it. Why is that?”

While she spoke, Ben walked to some cabinets with see through glass doors above his sink and took a long stemmed glass from them. He returned to the counter and popped the bottle, pouring himself a healthy amount of the dark liquid. Finally, when Rey finished with her question, he returned his attention back to her and gave her a smirk.

“Because I already know everything there is to know about you, sweetheart,” Ben replied, tipping his glass towards her in a mocking salute before taking a sip.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Rey snapped, not missing a beat, “and there’s no way that could be true. You can’t learn every aspect about a person through just the internet and newspapers, that’s just ridiculous. Especially in our profession, genuine human interaction and connection makes all the difference in how a person will act or behave. And you, of all people, should know that as a lawyer, it’s our responsibility to find that out for ourselves. It’s why we have to have such personal relationships with our clients.”

“But I’m not your client, Rey, I’m your superior,” Ben said slowly. His voice dropped to an almost threatening level as he leaned both elbows on the counter across from her, making them finally at eye level. She stared defiantly back, refusing to be scared off.

“Except that you’re also supposed to be my partner,” Rey said, tilting her head and giving him a sickly sweet smile, “Partners don’t have anything to hide and don’t go behind each other’s backs. They put the client first and they get what they want by working together.”

Ben squinted at her reproachfully, and took another sip of his wine that he still refused to politely offer to his guest.

“What are you suggesting?”

“Total honestly. At least, while I’m here, you can ask me anything you want and I promise to answer it with the truth. But you have to do the same with me. It eliminates any reason to doubt each other or to think that one of us is working against the other. We’ll both get what we need to know, and we don’t have to go snooping around each other’s personal items to get there. It’s a win-win situation, and this way we save the most time and energy so we can get to working on the real case as soon as possible.”

Rey watched Ben listen to her, and she could tell that there were many points where he wanted to argue, but she must have kept his interest long enough, because he let her finish.

“And how will I know you’re telling me the actual truth?” Ben questioned, standing up to his full height and looking down on her once again.

“Because I’m a terrible liar, and you’ll see right through me if I do.” Rey shrugged her shoulders and looked away, trying to sell the ‘innocent’ look as best as she could. She really was telling the truth though, she may be as sneaky and stealthy as a Black Cat, but she wasn’t as clever as one.

“How can you be bad at lying if you want to be a lawyer?” Ben scoffed with a smirk.

“Because I win my cases by being right.”

It was Rey’s turn to lean in and she looked up at Ben through her long, dark lashes. He wanted to speak, to make some retort about how ridiculously childish her and her ideals sounded, but something about those intensely dark eyes made him want to play along. He couldn't explain it, but she intrigued him. He had to give her that.

“Fine, I’ll play your little game,” Ben said, and Rey let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding on to, “Except, if I’m going to do something so asinine, we’re going to need to make it a little more enjoyable.”

By the glint in his eye, Rey was hesitant to let anything be on his terms, but she knew that if her plan was to work, she’d have to keep playing into his arrogance a little. It wasn’t very hard seeing as he had a lot of it.

“How do you suppose we do that?” Rey asked.

“Alcohol,” Ben said simply. He turned his back to Rey and bent to retrieve another bottle from the cabinet.

“Too bad I’m not a big wine fan,” Rey muttered, mostly to herself, but Ben must have heard because he swung back around and placed the bottle rather loudly on the counter.

“Oh, it’s not wine,” he chuckled, “this is a particular brand of bourbon that happens to be my favorite. Care to join me for a drink?”

Rey could hear the sarcasm in his voice, and the joke of the situation wasn’t lost on her seeing as she was already in his home and already agreeing to have the drink. She simply widened her eyes, took a deep breath, and shrugged an ‘okay’ with the shake of her head. Ben nodded once and grabbed more glasses from the kitchen. When he came back he directed them towards the living area taking a seat on the longer of the two couches. Rey sat across from him on the very edge of a large arm chair, ready to bounce up and make a break for it if she had to.

Ben, on the other hand, leaned back comfortably. One of his impossibly long legs reached over the other, his calf resting on the opposite knee. Even sitting down, he couldn’t hide his body's sheer length. Rey noticed the bottle and glasses on the table between them and took his lounging as an indicator that she was supposed to pour the drinks.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. She wasn’t his maid and he was perfectly capable of getting his own, but she did as she was expected anyway. Let him think she was just another woman willing to do his bidding. Any and all “sucking up” she could fake in this moment would give her the upper hand.

“So, what are the ‘rules’ to this game, exactly?” Ben asked, as she passed him a glass with one shot full of the slight smokey smelling liquid. He took it, his hands wrapping around hers for an instant, and Rey felt a weird spark of energy pass between them. She recoiled, but not before seeing him tense up.

The moment was over in an instant and Ben acted like nothing had happened. He looked to the glass now in his hands and swirled the liquid, waiting for her to respond to his earlier question.

“Okay, it’s a simple drinking game mechanic, really,” Rey said, pouring herself the exact same amount, “you ask me a question, and I have to answer. If you think I’m lying, you can challenge it. If I am, I have to drink.”

“Ah, so you do lie.”

“I said if I lie, then I drink. If you’re wrong about the challenge, then you have to take the shot.”

Ben shifted in his seat and squinted at her again in the way she was beginning to recognize as trying to figure her out. She found herself loving the idea that he didn’t know as much about her as he thought, and her chest puffed out in pride. Ben huffed a short laugh and leaned further back.

“Well then, one for good measure?” He lifted his glass.

“And for poor judgement?” Rey teased, a smile on her own lips despite herself.

“Exactly,” Ben said, tilting his drink slightly towards her, “cheers.”

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kevinmax44 · 4 years

Text

I am now a believer of a thought I just had a few months back. It said

“Excess of everything is dangerous. And the boundaries you decide to not reach that excess is called discipline”

At almost every phase of your life, fate introduces you to certain people, certain things, certain powers, certain luxuries which we get used to. Everyone in this world has a right to enjoy all of these. The problem begins when after a considerable period of time, we become incapable of realizing that these people, these things, these luxuries, aren’t going to be with us for very long. Let me take you through some of these that we often experience or observe, but fail to realize.

Too much of luxuries

In a classroom discussion I had with my professor and friends, we came up with a quote. It was

“As time passes, every luxury becomes a necessity”

The above line beautifully shows that humans grow used to every luxury they have had in life for way too long. I would share the example of someone who realized the same on his own.

Just a few months back, before the lockdowns were put into place, me and my friends had visited Ahmedabad to participate in an event conducted by a reputed college. It was to be a 2-day event so we were given accommodations in the college hostel itself. It was a huge campus and we were in awe of it. We were busy admiring those big gardens, department buildings, libraries and the canteen. This is when I became a victim of something called the Halo-effect. We assumed, since the campus was so good, the hostels would be the same. After the inaugural ceremonies, we were taken to the hostel to freshen up and get ready after a 4-hour journey from Rajkot to Ahmedabad. We reached the hostel and the first thought was, “Okay. Not exactly what we expected, but this is alright”. This thought was very short lived once we entered the hostel. The room given to us was a total mess. It was to be shared with 3 other people. This was however the better part. As everybody else would normally do, the next thing we went to check were the washrooms. It won’t be an exaggeration to say anyone would faint at the first glimpse of the washrooms. Me and my friend looked at each other and without saying a word we communicated to each other “We have to run from here”. Call it good luck or anything, he told me his sister was in the same town just a little away and she would be happy to let us stay at her place. A breathed a sigh of relief, but was hesitant to stay at his sister’s. I knew her personally and called her ‘chechi’, which is Malayalam for ‘elder sister’. She was really kind enough for letting us stay at her home.

This is when I realized, that I had grown used to clean rooms, clean washrooms and good food. A lot of people don’t get these luxuries in their lives ever. The students in those hostels have been surviving in these conditions for almost 2 years now. The lesson learnt from this incident was:

“Too much of luxuries always brings down your ability to adapt to difficult living conditions”

Too much of curiosity

This is an example for the movie buffs. The 1999 Hollywood fiction movie called The Mummy is the best example of curiosity not just killing the cat, but also the people around it. The story was about a British girl, aspiring to be an Egyptologist, who lived with her brother. The brother stole a certain artifact from a traveler and sister identified the artifact from the ancient Egyptian era of mummies. The artifact also contained a map which led to an ancient city which was believed to be lost and also kind of cursed. The sister then talks to the traveler and he agrees to take them to the city. They reach the city after a lot of travelling through seas and deserts. During their excavation, the find a sarcophagus (coffin) that had the body of a priest who was mummified alive for having tried his luck on the pharaoh’s (Egyptian king) to be wife and for murdering the pharaoh. The girl steals a book from another Egyptologist while he was asleep. She figured out that the book could be opened with the artifact that her brother had got his hands on earlier, it was a key. The girl had always been curious of these stories about ancient Egypt and its kings. She opens the book and reads a portion of it and just when she finished reading it, the other Egyptologist tells her she shouldn’t read from that book. But it was too late, the reading from the book had brought back to life the priest who lay dead in the sarcophagus they discovered earlier. The girl’s curiosity about ancient curses led to the death of several other people in the movie, including that of the Egyptologist because the mummy was on a path to kill the people who had dug him up and stole some jars that probably contained his body parts.

A real life example of this curiosity would be the creation of Africanized honey bees. Sometime around the 1950s, the government of Brazil authorized a researcher to create a hybrid variety of honey bees to increase the production of honey. Some European species of honey bee was carefully bred with another species and a new variety of bees came into existence. These new ones were found to be much more defensive than their parent breeds. They were so occupied with studying and observing these new bees that they failed to ensure they don’t escape. Unfortunately, one day these bees escaped the quarantine and spread out across the country and in some years, they were able to reach the shores of USA. These bees have been responsible of around 1000 deaths since then.

The lesson learnt from this was:

“Too much of curiosity doesn’t kill the cat alone. A lot of others have to pay the price of meddling with something they are not prepared to handle”

Too much of power

John Dalberg-Acton rightly said that “Absolute power corrupts absolutely”. When someone is given the absolute power, they have nothing to fear, no repercussions to face and absolutely nobody to answer to. Absolute powers were what created the likes of Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini. Absolute power is the difference between leaders and dictators. Absolute power makes an individual the judge, jury and executioner with unlimited powers.

That is the reason why modern democracies around the world have made arrangements from ever giving rise to a Hitler or a Mussolini in their country. Taking the example of our own country, the Indian system has 3 different pillars, named the Legislature, the executive and the Judiciary. This is popularly known as the separation of powers. This system ensures that nobody in the system is left unchecked of his powers, authorities and jurisdictions. It ensures that nobody is ever in a position to singlehandedly seize power and inflict his/her will on the people.

The lesson learnt from all the past of having absolute powers is:

“Too much of power is just another wildfire left unchecked”

Too much of importance

The people who we consider important in our lives are usually the ones who we look up to or go to in the hour of need. They hold a very special place in our hearts and in our lives.

The instance I am going to narrate for this part is an experience/learning of my own. I had a very close friend. In my entire life, starting from the days of schooling, to my graduation and now the post-graduation, this was one friendship, I consider to be the best till date. This was one person with whom I shared lame jokes, my joys, sorrows, heartbreaks and what not. I had kept absolutely no secrets from this person and neither there were any secrets from this person’s side (not at least that I know of). I had to make zero efforts to have a conversation or to share a secret or something embarrassing with them. There came a time where we used to talk almost the entire day. I was having a great time. I had somebody to irritate and someone who would irritate me. People don’t accept it, but they like to be teased or annoyed by the people they like. This was that one person for me. For almost a period of 6 months, we were the best of friends. I may also have ignored some of my old friends once this person became friends with me. I never believed I could be this open to anyone who I had just known for months.

Things however started to change. There was one week where I hardly received any message from this person. I was a little sad but didn’t want to share this with the person; I didn’t want to look like someone who was desperate to be friends with them. I thought maybe it was just a few days and everything would spring back to normal in the future. The future however didn’t show up for the next 4 months. For reasons I don’t wish to share, the distance kept growing and today we’re just like any other friends that we have. I was sad because I lost my best friend to something very stupid, which till date I don’t understand. I don’t hold any grudges, neither I have any sort of hatred for the person. It has always been a little difficult for me to deal with people distancing themselves. I learnt the real meaning of “Never put all your eggs in one basket”. I made this person into my buddy, my confidant and best friend. I don’t regret being friends with this person at all; I had the best friendship of my life and in the end, I learnt a big lesson, which is not to be forgotten. Mathematics defines circle as a collection of infinite points which lie at an equal distance from the centre. Why should our friends ‘circle’ then consist of just one person? I made a serious error and I hope that I can help everyone save themselves from any sort of hurt in the future.

The lesson learnt here was:

“Too much of importance given to someone, is just an expectation or hope that is about to turn into disappointment”

The entire thing that I just finished writing can be summarized in a single line and that is:

“Too much of anything will hurt too much”

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xerxia31 · 5 years

Text

Author Self-Interview

It’s author self-interview day :) And while it’s really challenging to speak about myself, regardless of how passionate I am about Everlark, the always incredible @hutchhitched convinced me to give it a whirl.

Several authors who are far more creative than I have posted some excellent questions, I hope they will forgive me for stealing some of them.

Do I outline or just start writing?

I seldom outline, but I always have a fairly good idea where the story is going before I start writing it. I see my stories as scenes in my head before I begin writing them, which means even before I put pen to paper, I have a solid idea of plot and scene, and often snippets of dialogue too. I think that’s why I’m best at short stories and ficlets, clear scenes as opposed to longer, more involved sequences of scenes (though I write those too).

Do I use a beta?

Seldom. For my long stories, I have both a grammar/language beta, and a content beta, but for shorter stories, drabbles, etc, I self-edit.

Where do I write?

Everywhere….. I do an extraordinary amount of writing on my phone (in google docs), which means my stories are always in my hand. I write when I’m a passenger in the car. I write when I’m waiting for the kids at choir or karate, I write in bed at night before falling asleep. I sometimes wake up in the night and tap out fic ideas or bits of dialogue into my phone.

Listen to music? Make a playlist?

Never. If there’s music playing, I’ll want to sing along, and that’s super distracting for me.

Do I post right away or wait until several chapters are done?

Little of column A, little of column B. Sometimes I wait. More often I do not. Depends on what I’m feeling in that moment.

Which voice do I use most often?

I’m predominantly a first person present writer. That’s the voice in which our sourse material is written, so it’s the voice that makes sense to me. That said, I do deviate from time to time, partly as a challenge, partly because specific stories feel like they need to be told in third. I keep stats on everything, so I can tell you that I’ve written:

First person present: 93 stories

First person past: 1 story (that’s It Started With a Contest)

Third person present: 27 stories

Third person past: 21 stories

I also wrote a little drabble in second person present, partly because, again, the source material is written in second person present, and partly, I think, because I’d just finished reading You by Caroline Kepnes (which is in second person present and hooboy it’s creepy, like having the narrator wandering in your head. Tough to shake off)

Which character is easiest for me to write?

Peeta, always. His slightly snarky brand of optimism aligns fairly closely to my own attitude. Though I definitely relate to canon Katniss’s stoicism too.

Let’s talk about specific stores now.

Not Real - I dreamed this story, almost in its entirety, though the dialogue was far better in my dream :) It was so intense and vivid that I had to wait a couple of days before writing it down because I knew I couldn’t have done justice to it while it was so fresh. I love the plot, and the moment when she ends the simulation. It’s one of those stories that shows I am incapable of judging my audience, because I really like that story, but it barely got any attention.

This Used to be my Playground - People got upset with me for rating this story M when there isn’t any smut in it. I kid you not. I love this story, especially the line “Why?” I ask, the word crystallizing on the window. If I was going to change anything in that story, though, I’d tighten up the ending. To me, it feels rambling. But the banner than Fran made for it is one of the most gorgeous things I’ve ever seen.

Destiny was written as a birthday gift for @madamemarquise, who is an incredible everlarker, and the pressure I put on myself to make it worthy of her was huge. It’s not a masterpiece, but I’m pretty proud of how it turned out. Stylistically, it’s a different tone than I typically use, and when I re-read it, it feels more like prose.

And one I’m currently writing - Cassie 7, the seventh vignette in The Cassie Chronicles (each chapter is a standalone, though they are all chronological). I only add to this series when I think about specific situations I want them to tackle, so it’s a meandering thing. But I really wanted to explore Katniss meeting Cassie’s biological mother. That’s what #7 will be about, and I’m pretty excited about it so far.

So that’s a little bit about my writing process, thoughts, etc. I’m happy to answer more specific questions. If anyone is interested in asking any, hit up my ask box :) And I especially love talking about fics I’ve already written, so if you’ve always wondered why I made some specific choice in one of my stories, please ask!

#everlarkselfinterview #about me #xerxia writes

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starsmuserainbow · 4 years

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(I've never done this before but...) All symbols for that Munday meme? XD

Monday Malarkey

[[Thanks for sending! And wow guess that means this post will be quite a size xD!]]

☯ : Do you prefer to wing it or to plot things out first when it comes to longer threads?

I think that always depends - but in general, I assume it tends to be good to at the very least have a starting point, so I guess that means plotting (to a degree, and not completely counting when stuff comes from memes because usually that takes care of a rough starting-point)? But when we do have a general ‘what we want to happen’, I think it’s nice to just let things happen as they do?

So, I guess a mix of both!

✎ : What is your favorite genre to write for in roleplay?

I don’t know, actually! I’m absolutely incapable of putting stuff into genres, so I don’t know! I like when, somewhere in threads, people actually open up to one another, like, talk about past happenings or the likes. And I think a lot of my threads would go into the ‘casual’ or ‘fluff’ category so maybe that? But I have a lot of other threads I like or liked a lot too, so I don’t think I really have a favourite genre.

✉ : What’s your favorite genre to read in roleplay?

I don’t really read that much specifically because of it being in a genre - if at all, I read RPs because they appear on my dash by being done by one of my mutuals with someone else!

✘ : Are there any genres you refuse to write for?

Smut would be the first thing I can name here, since I simply don’t write that stuff. Outside of that, uh, I can’t think of anything immediately!

✪ : Do you use roleplay as a method to better your writing in some way? If so, what are you trying to improve on?

I don’t actively think that I’m using it to better my writing, but I think upon repeating something again and again - which basically any RPer existing longer than a week does - it’s pretty much automatic that it also helps one to get better at it, so I sure hope that RPing does better my writing!

I can’t name anything in particular that I’m currently working on improving - I can say that I’m definitely interested in dash talk and all that stuff (you know, these fast-paced things that usually go back and forth quickly and die after a few hours or so) though I can’t quite see me actually trying to participate in it.

🎭 : Is roleplaying/writing a way to cope when things get rough irl?

I like to live in the world of my RPs, of my characters, so yes in a way - but I don’t really think I’m coping with stuff. It’s just that I like to think myself into a different world, and yeah. I guess I’m just mostly ignoring RL as much as I can anyway, so there isn’t really much to cope?

⌘ : How much importance do you place real experience into the things you write/rp?

Pfft, right, I could barely write about anything at all, then!

So, to actually answer this: Very little importance. I think as long as one can write it well, or imagine it, it isn’t important if they actually have experience in the area or not.

⚡ : What typically leads to inspiration for you when it comes to writing?

Nothing in particular! Like, there was at least once recently a dream that inspired my for a wishlist thing on Moonshot (which I still wanna write some day, and I’m considering to make my next open on him be about the situation even if that doesn’t really mean it’s any more likely for me to be able to explore the situation but still), and movies or stories or pictures do inspire me for things too, but mostly I think it’s just my imagination and what ‘letting my characters run freely’ there brings up. Hard to explain!

✿ : What’s your stance on self-inserts?

It feels a bit like a weird thing to me, and I don’t know if I quite entirely know all the specifics to the term. I’m not a fan of RPing with ‘real’ people anyway - be it from actual history, or politics or maybe stars or bands or whatever else exists as people RPing them - so I don’t think having someone put a FC around it changes that much?

If it’s a character they can simply connect to a lot, and maybe have some headcanons here and there that would also fit to themselves, that’s a totally different thing I think?

⌚ : When in the day do you feel you do your best writing?

There isn’t really any specific time of day! I usually do most writing during the afternoon and evening, but that’s because it’s how my day is scheduled and not because I can write there best or anything.

♟ : Do you do any research when you roleplay?

Number one - a lot of looking up of english words. There’s a reason why I basically always have a tab of a dictionary open.

And of course, if I’m to write like a poisoning or a certain area being wounded or a specific type of sickness, and if I haven’t researched anything to it or something similar before, I will try to look up a few things. It helps to get a better image of it, I think.

♞ : Which do you prefer, shorter or longer roleplay posts?

I can’t really work with one-liners much, they often feel like no effort had been made, so, longer than that would be good. Outside of that, as long as there’s something I can work with, I think I don’t have much preference towards how long or short is it. Well, I mean, maybe a full-on novel or something would be a bit much as reply xD, but I assume that’s rather unlikely to happen anyway with how RP works.

Or if this is about the length of posts, I can only try to appeal to people again, to please cut their posts, and remove and ask from a continued thread. But I don’t think that that’s what the question is about, so I won’t say more on that here.

♥ : What kinds of characters are the most fun for you to write for?

If you look at my muses, I guess the only answer I can give is: Aliens!

I don’t know, maybe that has to do with confidence. I have other characters too, but when considering to write them I tend to feel uncertain of if I can do certain things or if they work or would be interesting for others, so, I think that’s why my roster so far only exists of tamaraneans.

In general though, I think I tend to enjoy writing characters in a certain ‘good against evil’, or call it maybe action if you want, setting more than casual, everyday life ones, if that makes sense.

💔 : What kinds of characters do you have the most trouble writing for?

First thing that comes to mind here, is ‘sexy’. Like, take Blackfire for example, if I wasn’t as much myself as I am, I bet I’d have her do or say a lot more ‘dirty’ or suggestive stuff. I just can’t write that, and that’s one of the reasons why every now and then I feel like I don’t do Blackfire justice at all.

➳ : When creating OCs, what do you typically start with first? (i.e. appearance, name, a theme, etc.)

I think usually the rough ‘who’ comes first, as in what they do or are for? Like, that was the case with both Moonshot and Starlight, and, though I don’t think anyone actually knows of her since I only made like one post about her ever or so, Kahmlur. Also with most other (= non-tamaranean) OCs I’ve ever made I think. Usually first comes the rough idea, like said, and then I’ll work on details some more, like how I imagine their personality or behaviour. And usually by then already a image starts to form in my mind for their looks, which will then be the next thing to do. An actual detailed backstory usually only comes when I actually want to, like, write them on something public like here I think. Or when I happen to just be bored enough to write one.

Though of course, sometimes it can also happen that I play around in some character creator, and the result inspires me to do an OC out of that look.

♚ : What’s something you just can’t stand and will unfollow someone over?

If it happens too much and too often, a dozen, especially when non-RP, posts almost at all the same time. I get it, they’re online at that moment and want to share stuff or something, but it’s just too much and frustrating to see other stuff through. So yes, if that happens too often, I might end up unfollowing.

🌟 : How do you usually like to start an interaction with someone new, or do you prefer to have them approach you?

When I followed someone first, and they follow me back, I usually take an effort to make myself go to their IMs soon-ish (or asks or whatever if like their rules say they don’t want IMs, or the likes) and just greet them in some way. I try to lead that talk then towards something more, maybe plotting or a random starter or whatever, or at least to asking for how they prefer to start things.

As with those following me first, well, usually I kinda subconsciously wait for them to come to me first. Which… not always happens, and I think I should change that thinking anyway since I should just approach even if they were the first to follow if I want to interact with them too, but uh, that’s just what I do there without actually thinking much about it.

(And as for those I never become mutuals with - I usually don’t reach out there. I’m not confident enough to do that, so if I’m not ending up mutuals with someone, I’ll in 90% of the cases unfollow again once I realize it won’t happen, and the other 10% I’ll keep on my dash because I really like their content, even if it makes me sad that I won’t ever interact with them. And those that I never follow back, I hope I’m having it stated where I can clear enough that I’m still open to them approaching, though of course I have a right to say no in occasions.)

💕 : When it comes to shipping do you prefer to draw things out and let them develop slowly, or do you prefer to jump right into them and skip the developmental stage?

I love the interactions, the deepening of a connection, the admitting of secrets or talking about heavy topics of the past! Not that I have ever had those to write much, but I still love the idea, and so I think I can with rather good certainty say that I prefer the slow developing.

#✫ Tamaran to Earth ✫ | Answered #✫ Out of Clurblopf ✫ | OOC #long post #(and yes I know maybe I should have done it with a cut here bc length but I didn't want to)#nvertoolate

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v-thinks-on · 5 years

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From the Start

Part 1 of A Crazy Little Thing Called Love

“Frustrated, Mr. Spock?” Captain Kirk asked as he took Spock’s queen. His eyes shone with mischief and his voice had a very human lilt.

Teasing was what the humans would have called it, but Spock could see an uncharacteristic smugness in the captain’s smile, as though he had caught Spock doing something he wasn’t supposed to. For all the humanness of the gesture, the only thing Spock could think of were the sharp eyes of the Vulcans, appraising him, searching for any sign of human emotion. He could hear the implied accusation: “Your behavior is illogical.”

He straightened his posture, his lips pressed into a thin line. His eyebrows rose in disbelief. There was only one way to respond, “As a Vulcan, I am incapable of feeling such emotions.”

He did not expect the captain to grin, to smile at him as though inviting him to share in a private joke. He did not expect the captain to rescind his accusation without a second thought, “Of course, Mr. Spock. I must have been mistaken.” His intense gaze showed only amusement and appreciation.

Spock quirked an eyebrow at him and the game went on.

“Check,” Spock declared some turns later, bringing his rook forward.

“A very logical move,” the captain remarked. He glanced up from the board to give Spock an open smile.

The gesture was, with high probability, a deliberate one. It was a human practice to apologize for a perceived slight with a compliment, however Spock detected no dishonesty in the captain's words - to say such a thing without meaning it would have gone against his character.

So, Spock replied, “Why, thank you, Captain.”

The captain turned back to the three-tiered chess board with a wry smile. “You may not be capable of feeling frustration, Mr. Spock, but you make one frustrating opponent.”

To his surprise, even after forcibly taking command of the USS Enterprise and steering it to the forbidden planet, Talos IV, Spock was not sentenced to death. He was not court martialed or even relieved of his post. Fortunately, Captain Kirk also evaded punishment for actions that were not his own.

However, Spock had violated Starfleet regulation, disobeyed his captain, and endangered the crew. Therefore, as was his duty, he reported to the captain’s quarters to resign.

To his surprise, Captain Kirk shook his head. “After all that, I’m not losing my first officer,” he said with half a smile.

“But sir,” Spock began to protest.

“I do not accept your resignation,” Kirk said sharply. His tone brooked no argument.

Only then did Spock relent, still astounded that the captain trusted him after all Spock had done to betray him. But if those were the captain’s orders, he would not disobey them. Spock gave a sharp nod. “Thank you, sir,” he said, and was about to turn to leave.

Suddenly, Captain Kirk asked, his voice quiet and measured, “What was it like serving under Captain Pike?”

Spock looked the captain firmly in the eyes and answered, “He was efficient and very professional.”

Kirk smiled at that with a twinkle in his eyes. He was a very efficient captain, but upon reflection, Spock conceded that he would not call Captain Kirk’s demeanor professional; friendly was more accurate.

Spock continued, “He expected those of us under him to do our duty effectively and did not interfere unless something was amiss.”

“Did you spend much time with him?” Kirk asked almost casually, but he was clearly getting at something.

Spock gave a slight shake of his head. “I only encountered him in the course of duty and we only spoke when it was essential to our work. Despite his emotions, his approach to captaincy was very similar to what would be expected of a Vulcan.”

Kirk nodded in thought. He met Spock’s eyes and said seriously, “It was a very kind thing you did for Captain Pike, but don’t pull anything like that again, not for me or anyone - that’s an order. Understood?”

“My apologies, sir,” Spock said, “But I cannot obey that order. It is my duty to ensure the safety of my superior officer.”

Kirk frowned and let out a sigh. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“Sir?” Spock asked, an eyebrow raised.

The captain just shook his head.

“I believe I have underestimated the difficulties of command,” Spock remarked as he advanced his rook.

Spock was sitting across the desk from Captain Kirk in the captain’s quarters, a three-tiered chess board between them.

Jim, as he preferred to be called when they were off duty, grinned at Spock and moved one of his pawns. “You’re not rushing to take over then?” Jim teased.

“I would be unqualified and unprepared,” Spock answered firmly.

Jim’s smile softened. “Bones told me what happened down there.”

Spock refused to look away even as he awaited the well-deserved reproach.

“He said you rubbed the crew the wrong way, but when it came down to it, they wouldn’t have gotten off that planet alive if not for you.” He was looking at Spock with kind, almost wide eyes, like he had done something incredible.

“Two men died because of my decisions,” Spock said.

Jim leaned back in his chair, the game of chess momentarily forgotten. His smile turned rueful. “I wish I could just say it was despite your decisions and that would settle it, but I know it’s never that simple. It never feels that simple.”

He sighed and looked away from Spock, no longer able to hold his sharp gaze. “It’s my fault as much as yours; for getting you stranded, for the deaths of those two officers who I sent down with you on the shuttle and the man I sent down to search for you. And for all that, it could have easily been much worse. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you - and Bones and Scotty too.”

“You performed according to your duty,” Spock insisted, trying to meet the captain’s eyes.

Jim just shook his head. “Maybe the Commissioner was right. I shouldn’t have sent you out on such a dangerous mission when we didn’t have enough time-”

“You did not know that the malfunctions would occur,” Spock interrupted.

“What would you have done?” Jim asked with a small smile. Against all reason, he appeared to be open to Spock’s suggestions.

“I am hardly qualified,” Spock protested.

“Humor me,” Jim said. “It’s your duty to advise the captain, after all.”

“I cannot know because I am not currently in such a position and do not know all of the constraints.” Jim made to interrupt, but Spock continued, “I doubt I would have disputed the judgement of a Vulcan commissioner. A Vulcan would have accurately weighed the risks and benefits and acted accordingly. It is unlikely I would have found logical fault with their decision. As Commissioner Ferris is human, however, he makes human mistakes.”

“Vulcans make mistakes too,” Jim cut in, but he appeared to be amused rather than insulted.

“Certainly, however I am more likely to make the same logical mistakes as Vulcan rather than illogical human ones. Despite Commissioner Ferris’s urgency, when we encountered the quasar-like formation, we were three days away from Makus III and the rendezvous would occur in five days no matter when we arrived. Exploration is the purpose of our mission and we are under acting orders to investigate all quasar-like formations. These orders do not indicate that we must do so immediately, but as the opportunity presented itself to us, it would be most efficient to do so before we received additional orders. The initial risk estimates were low, so I believe I would have made the same mistake.”

“However,” Spock remarked as an afterthought, “I may not have sent two of my most senior officers and my chief medical officer on the same mission. I understand the purpose of sending myself and Chief Engineer Scott, however I do not understand why you sent Dr. McCoy on a mission to investigate a phenomenon so far removed from his area of expertise.”

Jim grinned a little sheepishly. “I thought he might be able to provide some support.”

Spock quirked an eyebrow at him. “I found his presence to be counterproductive.”

“Another miscalculation on my part,” Jim acknowledged.

Spock gave him a sharp nod. “I am unable to comprehend the regard you hold for the doctor.”

Jim seemed to consider it for a moment, watching Spock with half a smile as though what he saw would have some influence on the answer. Finally, he said, “As captain, it’s important to hear a wide range of perspectives. I don’t have to listen to all of them, but his emotions are as valuable as your logic. For one, he gives me a good idea of what the rest of the crew is thinking and he has a strong sense of right and wrong, whether you agree with it or not.”

Spock’s eyes narrowed as he thought over the suggestion. “That is a logical approach, however I would be disinclined to assign much weight to Dr. McCoy’s opinions on how to command a starship.”

“I know,” Jim said. “Maybe one day you’ll understand where he’s coming from.”

Spock’s eyebrows rose in disbelief.

Note: As I was rewatching The Original Series, I started writing short scenes to fill in the gaps. This is the result. It turned into a much larger project than I initially anticipated, so this is just the beginning of a larger story (or series of vignettes) that I’ll be posting over the course of the next several weeks.

This story is approximately in continuity with my other canon compliant episode response fics - A Hidden Personal Thing, Not Chess, Mr. Spock, Poker, and Dig in There, Mr. Spock - which all happen around the same time as this first installment (I assume the episodes occur in the order they were released).

#v writes #Star Trek: The Original Series #Spirk #A Crazy Little Thing Called Love #episode response #The Menagerie #The Galileo Seven

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putschki1969 · 5 years

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LINE LIVE ~ Summary

Here’s my summary of yesterday’s LINE LIVE. I am incapable of keeping things short so be prepared for a wall of text. I tried to lighten things up by inserting a few screenshots here and there ⊂((・▽・))⊃ Title: Wakana Solo Debut、「Toki wo Koeru Yoru ni」Release Special Broadcast Date/Time：2019/2/6 21:00～21:50 Victor Channel Download link

We start off with an introduction to the program. In order to celebrate the release of Wakana’s solo debut single, Victor Channel is hosting a special LINE LIVE. The program is hosted by Natsuko Aso. She says she will ask Wakana about all kinds of things, her profile, her music, her hobbies. Towards the end of the program they will play the full PV of “Toki wo Koeru Yoru ni”, etc

Natsuko then advises viewers to remove the comment section on the side if they want to see a full-sized Wakana.

It seems like Natsuko and Wakana have met before but it’s been a while since they have last seen each other. [All I could find on that is an old Kalafina blog post from 2011. Apparently they all performed together at KITAKYUSHU 2011 but they probably met on various other occasions.] Anyways, after the usual formalities of telling each other how happy they are to see each other again Natsuko asks Wakana whether she is feeling nervous to do this live together with her and Wakana confirms that yes, she is super nervous. She then asks Natsuko if it’s okay to call her Nat-chan like she used to back in the day. Natsuko immediately says yes, of course it’s okay. Wakana continues by saying that it’s totally fine if Natsuko calls her “Wa-chan” or “Waka-chan” or simply “Wakana”, no formalities please [Natsuko is quite a few years younger than Wakana so that offer seemed to make her a bit uncomfortable].

Nat then congratulates Wakana on the release of her single and asks her how she feels now that the CD is finally out. Wakana is super happy and excited of course. The song really transcended time because there was quite a long period between its first performance in August last year and its release. It’s about time it got released!

We continue with a short profile of Wakana’s life/career. The usual stuff, born on Dec 10, from Fukuoka, started singing early, first acitivities as FictionJunctuion Wakana, breakthrough as member of Kalafina and now after celebrating the 10 year anniversary of Kalafina she is debuting as solo artist under Victor Entertainment. Nat is surprised to find out Wakana is from Fukuoka. Wakana then explains that she was born in Tokyo but raised in Fukuoka so she feels like that is her home. Nats wonders if there is any good stuff to eat there and Wakana is more than happy to answer, she is like, “YES, there is!!!!” People in Fukuoka like to eat udon instead of ramen and Wakana’s favourite is udon with fried burdock (gobouten) (something that’s very hard to find in Tokyo). Wakana is like, “now I have become an udon ambassador”. Next they talk about how Wakana got into music. It’s the usual stuff again. Her dad likes to play the guitar, her mum used to be a music teacher, she has always been surrounded by music so naturally she became very fond of it too. She started taking lessons very early, then she was part of a gospel choir and took vocal lessons. But as we know, she originally wanted to become a mangaka or opera singer but that didn’t really happen. She then decided she would focus on singing (although not on an operatic level).

Next up is some talk about Wakana’s private hobby, namely her camera. Wakana reads through some of the comments and sees how many people are watching so she gets a bit nervous. There are lots of people waving so Wakana being the energetic person she is goes a little overboard with her waving.

Now we get to the camera. Wakana grabs it from a table nearby and says that she really loves taking pictures. She shows off all the cool features of the camera and takes a picture of the two of them. Wakana has always loved taking pictures of the sky with her phone so she wanted to try using a real camera for a change. Wakana is proud of the pic she took of them, it turned out nicely, a girly get together. She feels like this has turned into a teleshopping channel, she apologises. With this camera she likes to take pictures of the sky (like before), of nature and she also likes to capture special off shot moments.

Then we see some recent shots Wakana took.

This is one of her plants at home, she has forgotten its name though. She talks about spending a lot of time watering her plants and talking to them. It has become a ritual. She also has a little “angel” corner here which she likes a lot, she is a big fan of wings.

Next up is another one of her plants, it’s a christmas rose which she received as present recently. She is so happy that it already bloomed but she worries what will happen to it this summer since the flowers only bloom when it is cold

They just reached 10,000 viewers. CONGRATS! Wakana gets even more nervous.

We continue with some shark pics because hey, this is Wakana so of course this program has to include sharks. There are pics of her favourite tiger sharks which can be found at Fukuoka Marine World. She explains that she goes to aquariums all the time and that she really loves sharks, how they are so cute, how their form is beautiful, etc...Nat says that she has watched a couple of shark films and Wakana immediately wants to know which ones (=> Deep Blue Sea and Lost Vacation - some of Wakana’s faves actually). Wakana is so happy to talk about those films and of course she has to mention that Blake Lively’s body looks amazing, no matter how many times she watches the movie, she is always blown away by how gorgeous she looks. She recommends those films to everyone who wants some simple entertainment. And now the teleshopping program has fully turned into a shark program. Time to introduce her shark goods. Her infamous tea cup of course and her keyholder. Nat points out that Wakana’s tour goods look like they could be aquarium merch, they don’t have anything to do with Wakana. When Wakana gives her goods to friends they also usually believe that it’s a souvenir from the aquarium.

It’s time to end this shark corner and continue with some talk about the single. Wakana explains how this was her first time writing lyrics. When she first heard the melody of Toki wo Koeru Yoru ni she worried a lot because she didn’t know what kind of lyrics to write. She had to write tons of notes because she had no idea where to start, she would just write down random thoughts while listening to the song. Eventually she would pick out the lines she liked and create some proper lyrics. At this point she realised how much hard work it is to write lyrics, she had never really been aware of that. Nat asks if Wakana has a favourite line or phrase. She really likes the final chorus. Because this song is s collab between Shusui and a Swedish composer the song has a very Western/European vibe. The first version she heard of the song had English lyrics and she was super impressed by the song and she felt quite intimidated. Wakana was super embarrassed when she sang the song for the first time last August because she didn’t know if her lyrics would be well-received but since then she also performed it during her tour so she has become quite confident. That made it easy for her to do the recording (which followed much later). At that point the song had already changed quite a bit due to the different performances and interpretations, it really became her own and she felt very comfortable singing it in the studio. Then we have the live version of Tsubasa. Wakana says that she started her performance being quite nervous but with every line she sang she gained confidence since the song is quite empowering. That’s why she is happy that this live version was chosen even though you can probably hear her nervousness during some parts. Nat is super impressed by those two completely different songs, Wakana’s expressions are pretty much the exact opposite so it’s quite astonishing. Wakana goes on to explain that the song was written by Satoshi Takebe who also produced her tour. He left a huge impression on her because she learned a lot from him.

~ Toki wo Koeru Yoru ni PV ~ Wakana loves the contrast between the nature and urban setting and she likes how there is such a vast world introduced in the PV. All the wide shots are amazing. Nat says the PV has a very fantastical vibe to it, it almost feels like an illusion with all the lovely sparkles. Nat wonders if the PV was actually shot in Sweden because the atmosphere seems so European. Wakana has to disappoint her though, she did not go to Sweden unfortunately. However, they tried to find a location that would have a sort of nostalgic European vibe. Wakana is super happy they were able to find such a gorgeous location. The water was particularly beautiful because it reflected the forest in the background. She is also excited because she got to go on a boat and all the boat scenes where shot with a drone which turned out super well. Wakana says that she had a phone with her on the boat and staff members would tell her what to do ,“okay, now pretend to sleep. Ah yes, the sun looks beautiful now. Perfect. Stay as you are...” Wakana really wanted to look at the beautiful sun but since she needed to pretend to be asleep she couldn’t. Afterwards she got a chance to look though and she also took some pictures with the phone she had with her, she got some great shots. She will probably upload those pics on the blog someday soon. Nat then points out that it must have been very cold during the shooting since you can see Wakana’s breath during some scenes. Wakana admits that this was the coldest she has ever been in her entire life. In the past she had often shot PVs where it had been freezing but it was never as bad as during her shooting for “Toki wo Koeru Yoru ni”. She had never seen her breath like that. When she watched a few scenes they had shot she thought she had become “Godzilla Wakana”

Nat reassures her that she didn’t look Godzilla-like at all. It really fitted the entire winter atmosphere of the PV and it helped to make it more emotional. We then get some off-shots from the shoot. Nat is impressed how much work it takes to get a PV like that done. Wakana agrees, it’s a group effort and everyone did an amazing job.

Wakana really loved the location for the urban night scenery. She wishes that was her apartment but alas it isn’t. For a moment though she had Nat convinced that it was in fact her apartment XD

Nat catches Wakana a little off-guard when she says they should continue with some information. Wakana looks at her schedule sheet and is a bit confused but then she realises it’s time to talk about her album and tour. Nat introduces all the album details we already know. Wakana is like, “OMG, there is so much content on Version B”. Everyone should get it because it includes a HUUUUGE poster of her XD

Wakana says that the album is very Wakana-like (hence the title) but it also introduces a NEW Wakana so she is looking forward to everyone discovering those new facets of her. Wakana loves the dress she wears on the cover design because it’s super flowy. The wind was strong when they took those pictures so it almost looks like she has wings. She thinks that’s very fitting because she is leaping into a new direction, discovering new parts of herself. On a side note, the pose on her promotional picture was extremely uncomfortable but she likes the end result. She generally loves how the pictures turned out. The weather was lovely during the shoot as well. Wakana says that the cameraman is lucky because he always brings good weather with him (unlike Wakana who always brings rain with her - she notes that it has been raining all day in Tokyo). Nat points out that it didn’t seem to rain during the PV shooting so Wakana isn’t THAT unlucky. However, Wakana reveals that it did in fact rain that day (just a little though and the sky eventually cleared up to allow those grogeous final scenes).

Some more news about the release events, the clearfile tokutens, the tour dates, the LINE ticket lottery etc...

Wakana says she wants to show parts of her new self in the upcoming tour (of course this will involve her single and album). She thinks there will be a lot of people coming that don’t really know her from before so she really wants to leave a good impression. She has been thinking a lot about what to do for this tour. At any rate, she wants to create a warm and comfortable atmosphere. Lastly, some info about the new twitter account. It is going to be run by staff members because Wakana is absolutely clueless when it comes to Twitter. However, she thinks she might try to post once in a while. Nat then reads out a few comments by fans saying they will attend so and so many tour lives. Wakana is like, “I am gonna attend ALL of them!! So everyone, please come to all of them as well!”

It’s about time to end the program so Nat asks if Wakana has anything left to say. Wakana says they shouldn’t end the video so soon since it’s only been about 30 minutes. Nat then realises that she has failed to call Wakana by her nicknames. Wakana says it’s fine. She then goes on to thank everyone for this precious time. She had lots of fun talking with Nat and sharing some info. She feels grateful to all the fans who watched the LINE live. Wakana asks if Nat would mind if they talked a bit longer, she doesn’t want to force her but she is enjoying herself so much, she doesn’t want it to end yet. Nat doesn’t mind of course and she suggests they talk a little more about Wakana’s favourite topic...sharks. Obviously Wakana is more than excited and even interrupts Nat while she is about to ask a question. Wakana calms down and aplogises, asking Nat what she wants to know. Nat is curious what made Wakana fall in love with sharks. As we all know, she started out by liking dinosaurs. When Nat hears this she can’t believe it because she loves dinosaurs too. Wakana is beyond excited to have found a fellow dino-fan.

Nats asks if Wakana went to the dinosaur expo and Wakana is like, “dude, OF COURSE!” It was so cool. They are already making plans to go together to this year’s expo. Wakans says that she has loved dinosaurs ever since she watched Jurassic Park at the cinema with her father and brother. She was quite scared initially and her dad worried about her but she was fine at the end. The dinosaurs really impressed her. From that point on she was really into dinos and then she found out about the ancient shark megalodon. After that there was no turning back, she fell in love with sharks due to their awesomeness. She is happy the film MEG was released recently because now everyone knows how cool that shark is. Some more fangirling about sharks and dinosaurs. Nat states that this is the first time she has met a woman who is as passionate about dinosaurs as her. Wakana agrees, there aren’t many women with this kind of hobby.

Final info about the tour and some final words of gratitude to the viewers. She hopes everyone will join her on this journey in a new direction.Wakana has already decided on her tour goods and Nat is looking forward to seeing them. Right when they were waving goodbye they reached 20,000 viewers. BANZAI.

#kalafina #my translations #summary #line live #wakana #toki wo koeru yoru ni

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fandammit · 6 years

Text

We made these memories for ourselves (1/?)

[A/N: One Day at a Time, Alvareider. Another WIP? Yes, don’t hate me. I’m incapable of writing anything short for these two. But on the plus side, here is the start of the Snapchat AU.]

It starts out like this:

She’s at Schneider’s apartment trying to figure out what to get Dr. Berkowitz for his birthday when he mentions off-hand how awesome Alex’s costume was for his history project.

“I know, right? Mami really -- .”

She stops, then narrows her eyes at him.

“Wait, how did you see it? She finished it up at, like, midnight before it was due and he’d already taken it off by the time he got home.” She furrows her brows. “Do you...do you have cameras installed in our house?”

He scoffs.

“How could I possibly manage to get cameras installed in your house? Your mom is always at home and according to my electrician, the wiring alone would take at least a full day.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, I saw it on Snapchat.”

“Snap what now?”

He groans.

“Snapchat.” He takes his phone out of his pocket and leans closer to her, clicks on a yellow icon with a ghost in the middle. “C’mon, Pen, you are not that old.”

“Uh, yeah Schneider, we are.”

It takes what some might consider an embarrassing amount of time to explain what Snapchat is to her.

(You know, Schneider says at one point, it finally makes sense why you only post boring quotes on Instagram. I mean, do you actually know how to take a picture on there?)

But after seeing snapchat stories from Alex and Elena, she decides she wants one, too.

“Are you gonna at least try and be more interesting on here than you are on Instagram? Otherwise what’s the point?”

She shoves him, then grabs her phone from her pocket and hands it to him.

“I’m never gonna actually use it, I just wanna see what Alex and Elena are up to.”

“Well, you also have 250 people other than your kids from your contacts list who have one. Do you wanna follow them all?”

“Seriously? 250 people? How popular is this thing?”

He sighs and shakes his head as she leans over his shoulder to scroll through the list.

“Yeah, no. I’m not really interested in seeing what cousin Orencio is up to on a daily basis.”

“Yeah, it’s mostly just him with his metal detector on the beach.” He tilts his head and grins. “Although, he did once step on a jellyfish that was still alive and ran around trying to get someone to pee on him.”

She narrows her eyes at him.

“Yeah, I’ll pass on that one.” She keeps scrolling. “Actually, I’m gonna pass on everyone except for Alex, Elena, Syd and Carmen.”

“Aaand me,” Schneider says, tapping on his own name before swiping over to the camera. “Here, let me show you how to do one thing so I can at least feel like I tried to help you be interesting on here.”

He taps a button and it switches to her front facing camera. He holds his finger down on the screen and a bunch of animations pop up at the bottom.

“What are those?”

“These,” he says as he scrolls through them quickly, “are filters.”

She watches as hearts and dancing fireballs pop up on the screen.

“Why would anyone -- .” She stops when two flower crowns suddenly pop up on top of her and Schneider’s heads. “Oooh, I look cute in that one.”

“Yeah we do,” Schneider says. “Smile!”

She does just in time for him to tap the screen.

“So now, I’m going to save this in your memories,” he says, tapping a button on the bottom of the screen. “And we’re also going to make it part of your first story.” He clicks on a blue icon, then taps on something that says my story. “And there you go! Welcome to where everyone else was five years ago, Pen.”

“Wait, why do I want either of those things?”

“What things?”

“That picture in my memories or my stories or whatever.”

“Uh, you said it yourself -- because we look cute in it.” He rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”

That’s pretty much her first and last snapchat story.

She mostly uses it to watch what Alex and Elena are up to, sometimes Syd and Carmen.

Alex’s are mostly him at baseball practice, on the way to a baseball game, sometimes just a snap of someone playing a video game with him narrating in the background. She loves him, but wow are teenage boy’s lives boring.

Elena mostly snaps about her at different marches or protests, selfies with Syd using some filter, occasionally a Netflix show that she’s into. She watches enough clips of Black Mirror to feel like she’s seen the entire season without ever sitting down to watch a single episode.

Eventually, she does add a few other people -- Lori, who she sometimes is honestly surprised is still alive; her cousin Claudia, whose life seems like a real-life telenovela; Jill, who apparently spends half her time at the dealership imitating customers who come in.

Over time, she learns two surprising things.

The first is that watching random ten second clips of people’s lives is strangely addicting. She increasingly finds herself checking Snapchat on her breaks, while she’s walking back from dropping off a client, when she’s waiting in the checkout line.

The second, infinitely more surprising thing is that Schneider is by far her favorite person to follow.

See, the thing about Schneider’s Snapchat stories is that she’s never quite sure what to expect.

Which -- honestly? Is the exact opposite of what she thought she’d get when she started following him.

“You know, your Snapchat is different than what I thought it'd be,” she says to him one night when she takes a break from studying.

He looks up from the Spanish picture book he's reading on the couch.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs.

“I don’t know, I just kind of thought it’d just be videos of you making different kinds of quinoa or working out.”

He smirks at her.

“Well, now you know that I am a lot more sophisticated than you thought I was.”

“Uh huh,” she says wryly, drawing out the sound. “So how’re la lagartija y el sol doing?” She points at the book in his hands.

“Pretty good! I think I’m getting it.” He squints at the page. “Although I’m not really sure why a lizard would be in an arena.”

She purses her lips.

“It probably wouldn’t -- but it might be in the sand?”

He looks at her, the book, then rifles through a set of flashcards next to him.

“Ooooooooh.”

Schneider does actually have more than a few snaps that involve him making different types of quinoa, and he does have a lot of him with his adult kickball league, his adult softball league, his adult dodgeball league.

“Seriously,” she says one night after work, “I didn’t even know they had dodgeball leagues. I thought that was just, like, in the movies.”

He sighs heavily.

“It’s a real stigma against the sport. We’re really trying to have people take us seriously.”

“Hm.” She points to his shirt. “And a t-shirt that says Who Let the Dodge Out? is your plan to do that?”

She never really answers his question about what makes his snapchat so surprising. Partly because he wanted to read La Lagartija y el Sol out loud to her so she could help him with his pronunciation, but also partly because she meant what she said at the time -- she didn’t really know what to expect.

Because yes, he does have what she’d describe as Schneider at his most Schneider: endless snaps of his seahorses, hikes at sunrise while he narrates, trips to overpriced restaurants, shopping excursions to buy another half dozen graphic tees that are probably absurdly expensive.

(He’s also really into snapping pictures of clouds that he thinks look like people. They almost never do.)

But what she also finds out is this: Schneider spends a lot of time hanging out with other people in their building.

“Did you know that Schneider hangs out with a bunch of people in our building, not just us?” She asks one night at dinner when Schneider is out at a dodgeball tournament.

Elena nods.

“Yeah, he watches Wheel of Fortune with the Ryders in 407, does macrame with Mrs. Watson in 306, plays ping pong with Mr. Jackson in 204 -- and that’s just on Thursdays.”

“He does basketball drills every Wednesday afternoon with the Lewis twins from 104 until their mom comes home,” Alex says, his mouth half full of rice. “He used to play with them, but then he dislocated his arm one time trying to dunk, so now he just helps run drills.”

“Ah, si,” her mother adds, “and he makes lunch with that vieja in 503 every Sunday.”

“Mami, Mrs. Verver is only a year older than you.”

“But she looks twenty years older than me.” She pats her cheek on other side. “That is why it is better to be Cuban.”

“So apparently everyone but me knew that you hang out with a bunch of the tenants here,” she says one afternoon after lunch.

Her mami is taking a nap, Alex is with friends and Elena is skyping Carmen in her room, so it’s just her and Schneider polishing off a tray of pastelitos.

“What, did you think I just spent time all my time with your family?”

She takes a bite of a pastelito and shrugs.

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Well, I can’t deprive the rest of the building of my charms, you know.” She rolls her eyes at him. “I do a lot of work everyday, Penelope.”

She nods.

“You know, surprisingly I don’t even want to argue with you about that.” She raises an eyebrow at him. “Although I wouldn’t call getting your ass kicked in chess by Mr. Roth every Tuesday and Thursday work.”

He huffs and shakes his head.

“That man is ruthless.”

“That man is seventy years old.”

He scoffs.

“If I’ve learned anything from father, it’s that seventy year olds are the most ruthless.” He picks up the empty dish from the table and walks over to the kitchen sink. “Anyway, I’ve always been more of a checkers guy myself.”

She follows him over to the kitchen, leans against the counter as he starts washing off the dish.

“I think it’s really cool, Schneider -- you spending time with people who are mostly alone.”

He adjusts his glasses, then glances over at her.

“Yeah, well, you know. I don’t want anyone to feel like I did growing up.”

She furrows her brows at him.

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs.

“All alone even when you’re surrounded by a building full of people.” He clears his throat. “Plus, I read this article that said that loneliness can be deadly for old people, so basically every time I’m spending time with Mrs. Watson or Mrs. Verver or Mr. Roth, I’m pretty much saving their lives.”

She nods slowly.

“So basically every time Mr. Roth kicks your ass in chess, you’re actually doing him a favor by saving his life?

“Yeah, exactly!”

She looks at him and tilts her head.

“So, is that how you make yourself feel better every time he beats you?”

“Yes.

“Does it work?”

“Sometimes.”

#schneider x penelope #penelope x schneider #one day at a time #penelope alvarez #schneider #my fic: alvareider

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tdcatsblog · 6 years

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Do you have any useful tips when I can't seem to focus on only one story? Lately i've been full of ideas, writing down plots and started with something. Then I 'forget' about it and move on. Sometimes I go back for a sentence or a paragraph but I can't finish anything these days 😥 thanks in advance

Hi! I’ve been contemplating your questions for a while, because – and I have to be 100% truthful – I am probably the worst person to ask about focusing. I have been stalled on a Very Important Writing Project for literally years at this point. 😅 However, I have gotten a LOT of advice, much of which I think is very good. So I can share some of my thoughts…

Mental health. Putting aside the writing for a moment, I would be remiss not to float the idea that there could be mental health issues going on. I don’t know you, and I don’t want to alarm you, but sentiments like, “I can’t seem to do x these days,” can be a warning sign of depression. Just something to think about.

Because I am apparently incapable of writing short answers to Asks, I’ll keep rambling after the cut.

Letting go and leveraging your ideas.Focusing strictly on writing, I would first consider not pressuring yourself to finish something every time you sit down to write. You’re writing because you love it, so don’t let pressure suck the joy out of it.Secondly, a lot of writers have the desire to write but no inspiration.It sounds like you have lots of ideas, so why not build on that strength?

Something I’ve found to be helpful is always to have some means of recording of my thoughts, either electronically or on paper. I have notebooks everywhere. I seem to get a lot of ideas when I’m driving, so I always have paper in the car. (There are some schools of thought that suggest that the act of writing by hand triggers different cognitive processes than typing, so it’s good to mix it up. However, digression. See how I lose focus?) I’ve heard of writers carrying around index cards.

Now here’s the step I don’t do, but it is essential to at some point compile all of the notes that you have accumulated and dump them somewhere where you can see them or work with them. This is why index cards are good, and now that I think about it, post-its would probably work well, too. Almost every writing coach or guide I’ve ever consulted for writer’s block has recommended doing this kind of organization on paper or in hard copy. Again I think it has to do with triggering different cognitive processes. However, I have Scrivener and although I haven’t played with it much, people tell me it’s a great program for organizing.

I have a feeling that if you are able to gather your stray thoughts, paragraphs, half-developed plots, whatever, and perhaps arrange them visually, you will begin to see patterns emerging that could be all the elements you need for a complete story. Perhaps a few sentences just need to be reworked together to get a drabble. Once you have a few drabbles under your belt, maybe the momentum will lead to other avenues of inspiration. Grab everything you can and keep building on it. The more material you have to work with, the more likely you’ll inadvertently stumble on the blocks to build a complete story.

Now this is important: never delete or permanently throw away any of your writing. You can make a “dead” writing folder for material you cut while editing or for what you think has no future. There’s always the chance that the bit of dialogue you hated and deleted two weeks ago may be just what you need today. Review your trashed material every so often because it might trigger more inspiration.

You may find it helpful to take a break from reading in your fandom or ship. Sometimes being inundated with other people’s ideas can make it difficult to focus on one’s own. It can also be paralyzing. Or maybe it works the opposite way for you, and deep immersion in your fandom gets you energized. Check in with yourself to make sure that whatever your current level of engagement with your fandom, you feel good about it.

Ass in the seat. If you’re at the point when you have all your story elements in place, or at least a broad idea that you’re confident in if you’re more of a fly-by-your-pants writer, you just need to sit down and write the fucking story. For some people (e.g., me) this is the hardest part of writing: having the focus and motivation to sit down and do it. There are literally hundreds of strategies and resources out there to get writers through this stage. You can set time or word count goals, for example, and there are apps and writing tools to help with that. There are lots of online communities that provide structures and social support for writers. For example, I am supposed to be participating in a 14-day writing challenge that started on April 1. (Do as I say, not as I do 🙃).

I have often gotten the advice to set low, achievable goals as a way to “hook” yourself into your writing. Depending on your schedule, you could tell yourself, “I’m going to turn off my internet and write for half an hour” or “I’m going not going to do x until I write 500 words.” Achieving these mini-goals should give you the confidence and general positivity to build on in order to set larger goals. I can tell you from experience that it’s not good to think to yourself “I must finish this [insert massively ambitious and unachievable writing goal] today” or else I’m not living up to my expectations. This is a recipe for killing the joy of writing.

For fanfiction, if you feel like you have writer’s block or just need motivation, I would strongly recommend signing up for a fest. I think that the combination of a deadline and the community support associated with fests can be a great way to get excited about sharing your work. If your fandom has “weeks” where participants base their work around a common theme, this can be a lowkey way to structure your writing and have a built-in audience. Feedback from people enjoying your work may give you the push you need to wrap up that next story. Depending on the size your fandom, some of your ideas may already align with upcoming community events, so it could be worth your while to browse and see what you find.

Ehhh, I hope some of this is helpful. I have endless empathy for the difficulty in staying focused on one project, writing or otherwise. New ideas are so shiny and compelling. Keep reminding yourself that those sentences or paragraphs that may look insignificant on their own actually comprise what a story is: every story is just words that someone has arranged to have meaning. As long as you can get something down, you’re working towards your goal of finishing works.

#not drarry #writing #i'm a failure at focusing and finishing things so maybe ignore everything i say here 😅#tdcat thinks about stuff

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justachorusgirl96 · 7 years

Text

Shower Surprise (part3)

Author’s notes: Ok, so I finally got around to watching season 12 and realized that this is not cannon at all and that I have inadvertently stolen the setup for this from @sdavid09 because I was inspired by one of her fics. I am so sorry. The cannon storyline is kind of a disappointment actually, but this is why I should stay caught up because then I actually know whats going on. Anyways, sorry this took so long; I know where I'm going with the story, it's just taking me forever to write it out. Also, I wrote it and then just forgot to post it... Please don't hate me! I'll try to be better. Love you guys, I really do!

Summary: You’re taking a shower after a bad hunt and fantasizing about a certain archangel, when it accidentally turns into a prayer, one that he answers.

Warnings: Language, slight confrontation, talk of injuries and physical violence, stuff

Word count: 1823 (I’ll try to work on making them longer)

Pairing: Reader x Lucifer

A/n: As always, let me know if you want to be tagged.

Need to get caught up? Master list

You emerged from your room a couple of hours later, hair still damp and un brushed, wearing your usual old hoodie and some pajama shorts. Your bare feet made almost no sound as you made your way down the long hall to the library. You could hear the gang before you reached them.

“You can’t be serious?”

“I’m tellin you man, new body, new virginity!”

You rounded the corner to find Dean and Gabriel engaging in a playful argument while Sam and Cas looked on. They all turned to look when you entered.

“Oh good, you’re out! Took you long enough.” Dean said with a mischievous grin. “I was just telling Gabe here that his new body comes with a new virginity. Now you’re not the only one in the bunker. The two of you could start a club!” He added with a chuckle.

Well that’s ironic... You felt a little heat rise in your cheeks and hoped no one would notice. “Yeah, not sure I’m really the ‘club’ type. I’m more the ‘suffer in silence’ kind of girl.” You offered with a nervous chuckle and an awkward glance at the elder Winchester. You felt the hair at the base of your neck prickle and shifted your gave to the source of the discomfort. Gabriel. He was staring a hole right through you. Shit, he can’t possibly know. The exchange seemed to be lost of everyone else in the room.

“Hey umm, Y/N, what happened to your injuries? You got beat up worse than the rest of us and now you seem just fine.” Sam cut in with that confused puppy dog look of his. You just had to ask didn’t you? “Gabriel’s been waiting to heal you since we got back.”

Dammit, I should have just stayed in my room. “Oh, that was nice of you Gabe, but Lucifer stopped by and took care of that already. Thanks tho-”

“What do you mean ‘Lucifer stopped by’?” Dean demanded.

“Exactly what it sounds like asshole,” you shot back.

“Oh so he just happened to stop by and decided to be nice and fix you up did he? What was he even doing here?”

“Yes, that’s pretty much exactly what happened!” You lied. “And he’s here a lot actually, you just ignore his existence unless he’s useful to you for something. He stopped by my room to inquire about a particular book from the library since I’m the only one who ever willingly talks to him. He saw that I was injured and healed me, plain and simple.” Please stop asking questions!

“Yeah, well I don’t like it. You should have waited for Gabriel to heal you.”

“We’re just worried that you might be messing with fire here. It is Lucifer after all.” Sam added.

You were indignant at that statement. “What difference does it make who healed me? It was a kind gesture and I was in serious pain. And no one bothered to let me know that Gabe was here to heal me so your argument is pretty invalid. I don’t have to justify this to you anyways; it’s already done.” You declared with a defiant glare. Damn were your brothers hard to get along with sometimes.

No one seemed to have anything to add and you fidgeted uncomfortably for a few moments before an escape plan came to mind. “I’m pretty hungry so I’m gonna head down to the kitchen. You guys want anything?” You asked as a peace offering.

Dean’s tone softened and he relaxed a bit. “Nah, we got tired of waiting for you to get out of the shower so we ate already. I left you a couple of burgers in the fridge.”

“Awesome sauce! I”m gonna go eat that and then probably go to bed. This has been a pretty exhausting day.” As you turned to leave your eyes locked with Gabriel’s and you knew he wasn’t about to let this go. You noticed that Cas looked incredibly uncomfortable and wouldn’t meet your gaze and wondered what exactly was bothering him as well.

A few minutes later you were standing at the counter in the kitchen finishing off your cold burger when you heard footsteps coming down the hall, not just one pair, but two. Turning around you saw Castiel, uncomfortable and sullen as ever, followed closely by a very serious looking Gabriel. “Hey guys, whats up?” you asked trying to keep your voice casual and failing for the most part. Something in Gabriel’s expression was making you extremely nervous.

“Lets drop the pretenses and just be honest sweetcheeks? I know- that is, we know- that you just popped your cherry, and we know who popped it.” Gabe’s voice was flat and serious, lacking all of its usual humor. “Do you have any idea what kind of a dangerous game you’re playing?” There was no mistaking the worry in his tone.

You felt a little defensive at suddenly being called out on something so personal. “I’m not playing any kind of ‘game’. And its none of your business if I’m being intimate with anyone or who that anyone is.”

Gabe put his hands up submissively, “Hey, I’m not trying to tell you who you should and should not be intimate with; its your body, your rules. But I don’t have to like it or pretend that it doesn’t worry me.” His tone was softer and it was clear he wasn’t looking to pick a fight. “You’re my friend, my best friend in fact, and I care about you a great deal. Now I know my brother, and I know how much of a massive bag of dicks he is. I also know his feelings for you are very real and I think you’re good for him. But you need to be extremely careful; I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

This was really feeling like some sort of strange intervention. “Guys, I appreciate that you care so much about me, but really I’m fine. I can take care of myself and I really don’t think that Lucifer would hurt me.” You allowed your own tone to soften and ease some of the tension in the air.

“I agree, you can definitely take care of yourself. And I don’t think Luci would hurt you either. That’s not what I was talking about. What I meant was-”

“Nephilim are forbidden.” Castiel cut in, breaking his silence at last. “If you were to conceive accidentally, the armies of heaven would hunt you and the abomination mercilessly, and there would be nothing any of us could do to protect you.”

Castiel’s blunt explanation left an awkward cloud over the conversation. You were the first to speak. “I see. Thank you for that.. brutal analysis Castiel, but I don’t think you have anything to worry about there. I couldn’t conceive if I wanted to.” The two angles looked worried and confused so you continued. “When Dean and Sam found me, I had been taken by a vampire who was using me as a living blood bag and was planning on starting a nest with me as his first convert.” You closed your eyes and the memories flooded back to you. “He was incredibly violent and would often beat me when there was nothing else to do; which was often. Somehow during one of the beatings he damaged my uh... my womb, and now I am incapable of conceiving a child.”

Upon opening your eyes you saw that Gabriel looked completely taken aback, a look of most profound sadness in his eyes. Castiel already knew this story, but still wore a similar expression.

“Y/N, I- uh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know… But still, you should be cautious. Lucifer is an Archangel and anything could happen. The nephilim offspring of a lesser angel is incredible dangerous, but might stay hidden and go unnoticed for a while, but the offspring of an Archangel would have astronomical powers and and you would have no hope of avoiding detection. I don’t want to see my best friend get hunted down by my siblings.”

You stepped forward and pulled first Castiel, then Gabriel into a warm embrace. “Thank you for looking out for me. I promise I’ll be careful. That doesn’t sound like much fun to me either.” You forced a lighthearted tone into your voice, even though you were now incredibly worried. “Just don’t tell my brothers ok?”

“Pshh,” Gabe huffed, “I may be a jerk, but I’m not that much of a jerk! And you should get some rest now. He may have healed you but you still need to recover your strength. And I’m sure your ‘extracurricular activities’ didn’t help.” He added with a wink.

“Oh whatever!” You shoved him playfully on the arm. “Actually, that’s not bad advice ‘cause I’m exhausted. I think I will just go ahead and go to bed. I’ll see y'all in the morning.” And with that you padded off down the hall to your room, leaning against the door and releasing a long sigh once you were inside. Well technically that could have been worse.

Wasting no time, you rushed through your evening routine and soon found yourself comfortably nestled under the covers, sleep already tugging at your eyelids. A sudden rustle of wings brought you back to alertness. There he was again, Lucifer, stretched out next to you like he had been there the whole time. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t my guardian angel again. Two visits in one day. What did I do to deserve that?”

“Well thats definitely the first time anyone has ever called me that.” He said with a chuckle. Lucifer paused for a while before reaching out and grasping your shoulder. “I was actually thinking that it might be better if I stayed with you more often; I’d get to see you, and it would be easier for me to keep you safe.”

“Oh, ok yeah, that sounds… umm…” What am I even supposed to say to that?

“You don’t want me around more often?” There was no mistaking the pain in his voice.

“No, no I do! I want you around as often as you like. I just also don’t want my brothers to figure out that we’re together yet. I need time to tell them properly. If you’re suddenly by my side all the time, well… I mean they’re not complete idiots; they will figure it out eventually. We just have to be smart about it; take it slow so you not just suddenly there. But,“ you paused, reaching out and grasping his face, "You can spend all the time you want in here.”

With that you pushed the angel flat on his back and rolled over on top of him. Leaning in close enough for your lips to barely brush the side of his ear you whispered, "And we can do whatever we want in here."

@sdavid09, @ravengirl94, @lucifer-in-leather

#supernatural #fanfic #lucifer #reader insert #lucifer x reader #shower surprise #first time #First Fic

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rouge4truth · 7 years

Text

TFP is Mind Palace – Sherlock’s coming out

What if… Sherlock imagines his coming out in TFP? Just my reading of it, but full of hope – please let me walk you through it in my different posts to proof it. Expecting your comments.

What if TFP is exclusively is in Sherlock’s mind palace where he comes to his terms about his emotions by road-testing his feelings and what exactly ‘coming out of the closet’ would mean and feel like for him and the people important to him (John, Mycroft, Molly, his family)?

But for Sherlock who trained himself his entire life to repress his emotions, it would need a strong trigger, to break his old pattern of hiding feelings behind rude behavior. If John would be fatally injured and Sherlock is not aware if he will pull through, this would be the strongest trigger I can imagine.

We don’t know if John is really been shot yet, but the last scene of TLD is red (start of the new storyline ‘Rouge’, which we will explore later – hopefully 8th of March we get a teaser when the expected 4th episode will air that will reveal the truth?) and we did not get a proper answer, as the next episode TFP is all in Sherlock’s head (mind palace), like TEB.

Because I felt so miserable after TFP first, I watched it several times and started to go through this episode scene by scene in different posts (Mycroft’s residence scene, 221B Baker Street (3/3)) to point out why it is mind palace, and did much research in the details like Oscar Wild and Lady Bracknell the pictures at the wall – all that subtext is about gay people and how society deals with it (feel free to check it out. I am still on it to post the next scenes, but the subtext is so rich and full of information, it takes ages to do the research – and as I’m no native speaker, I will miss a lot hope you guys can help me with this.)

John getting shot and survives is cannon in ‘The adventure of the three Garridebs’ Sherlock is panicking and takes care of him ‘It was worth a wound, it was worth many wounds, to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask." This is what John writes in ‘The Strand’ after that event. I don’t think that the writers will miss the opportunity to show us Sherlock suffering about John’s life!!!

To find a solution how to save John Watson (TLD – Mary’s message) he is using his mind palace to find out how he can provide his feelings to him, before John maybe dies without knowing. We know that Sherlock works the best when he is under (emotional) pressure.

Remember Sherlock saying in A Study in pink: “Bitterness is a paralytic – love is a much more vicious motivator”.

Before he met John, he was bitter and alone. With John in his live, everything changed, John humanized him, changed him to the better! If he loses John, he has no reason to change anymore, he (maybe) would become the same bitter person like he has been before John.

This time, Sherlock wants to make it right, he is asking for help at the end of T6T, but not Mycroft, as he is aware that he can’t teach him anything about feelings. So he asked the only person, who really knows John, which is Ella, John’s former therapist, what he can do about John. Ella tells him, that therapy can only work, if Sherlock is opening up. Sherlock replays, that this is not his style – and we get no more information, if he did it or not.

Coming out is not about one moment, just one kiss and everting is fine. It is a process that starts in the head (mind). You first need to find out, who you are, and that can be a really painful thing. The next steps are to accept yourself the way you are. Then you are out with yourself, you learn to live with it. After that you need to decide, if you go further and maybe tell it to your love interest, or to your parents, to free yourself. At this point, many gay people are in therapy, because their parents, relatives, friends or people at work do not understand the pain you are going though, just to be yourself without hiding a part of yourself. If you find enough acceptance here, your next step could be to publicly come out if it is silently while holding hands or kissing your friend in public and watch the reaction of the people surrounding you or by making it public as a statement on a party or something similar. I think most of the LGBT people do not get to this point to make it officially public, because they are too afraid of it. And this is why we are surrounded by LGBT people every day that we do not recognize. But if we start to watch silently, hear and read the subtext of their behavior, or short comments, we will get a glimpse of how many there are amongst us. But why do they hide? – Because you need a strong self-believe and self-confidence to be strong enough to resist being hurt every time that people show you that they do not understand or accept you. Also it depends on the country you live in, still today, there are countries that will arrest you for being gay or even kill you. So some LGBT people need to hide their entire life. Also the society does not accept you the same way that straight people are accepted and maybe you do not get the job you like, because people know, that you are gay. Or you live in a religious community, where there is no room for diversity.

Coming out is a unique experience for each person, who needs to go through this kind of process.

Bearing that in mind, think about that Sherlock is probably 40 now, like Ben is, and it is the first time in his life, that he allows himself to research his feelings so deeply. He was always aware that he is gay. But what does this mean for him before and now? He grew up in the Thatcher era and during the HIV/AIDS crisis. It felt different in that days to be gay. Stars like Freddy Mercury never had an official coming out, it has just been the rumors in the press until he died. Also we get reliably informed, that Sherlock never had sex or a relationship before, in his live. So imagine how difficult it might feel to start at this age to learn about yourself.

It is painful for Sherlock to go back in his life to find out, why he is emotional contained and what he is afraid of, as he ‘deleted’ those things from his hard drive, buried it deep inside to have more space for other ‘useful’ information. Sherlock’s childhood that changed him from an emotional kid to an almost always rude thinking machine. We learn, that it has something to do with REDBEARD and that it is an alternate story that Sherlock told himself to be able to cope with the truth (which truth?). He needs to find out what it was to find inner peace with himself first. I guess we have not seen the correct Victor Trevor story yet, I assume, he was Sherlock’s first ever love interest and there will be a different story told in a later episode.

To find out more about his life today, he needs to go back there. Therefore Sherlock creates different rolls and characters for a play in his mind palace:

The little girl on the plane represents his subconscious, and his emotions that are still disconnected from his today reality, so he is still incapable to show feelings to others properly (timing). He needs to find access to this resource.

Moriarty he is only a voice in his head, but he is the devil, the virus in his data. He is always pushing him to make decisions, he does not want to make, decisions that separates him from John.

The little girl and Moriarty are like the angel and the devil on his shoulders, like yin and yang.

EURUS is a fictive character for his (evil) logic, emotionless side. He needs EURUS to confront himself with several topics, to put himself to tests, to find out about how the both most important people in his life will react in different situations. Those two people are

Mycroft, his brother that is protecting him since childhood by teaching him that caring is not an advantage and that he should join not getting involved in any friendship or romantic entanglement, because this could hurt him. But Mycroft has also selfish interests, because if Sherlock would be officially out, this could (maybe) ruin his career in the British Government – so I had always the feeling, that he wanted to see his brother happy with John, but might have an interest to keep it as a secret. Mycroft is aware that Sherlock is gay.

John, who Sherlock is in love with, since he met him. He knows about Johns feelings for him at least since the Battersea scene in A Scandal in Belgravia, but as John is always dating women (and marries a woman) to cope with his unrequited love for him (Sherlock seems always to be unavailable for John) Sherlock fears to tell John the truth. He is not sure if John is straight and only his best friend or if he is Bi. Therefore he researched Major James Shoto, because he needs to know, if John is romantically interested in men, too.

He needs to find out about how John could possibly react, when he confesses his love, while he is unsure, he expects John to make the first move as he is much more experienced in romantic entanglement than he is.

We can see that in TFP in the most painful and emotional scene, when Sherlock askes Molly (she is always a stand in for John) to say ‘I love you’. As Molly turns the way around and asked him to tell it first ‘say it, like you mean it’ he comes to the conclusion, that John will never ever say a word, because it is true and he is insecure, too. We see John in tears, when Sherlock finally says ‘I love you’ – he is waiting instantly to hear it from Sherlock. So Sherlock cannot expect John to say anything, as he is too afraid about himself, hiding his bisexuality.

As Sherlock kept everyone in the dark about his sexual orientation, even John, he needs to be the one who is telling John, how he feels first.

Also in this scene, he comes to the conclusion that he must tell Molly that he is gay, to save her from the pain he is causing her while she is still in love with him unable to move on.

It is not a Game anymore – If it is true, we can stop to play around the subject and tell everyone :-)

Mark Gatiss knows about the pain that LGBT people feel - so I don’t think that he wanted to hurt any feelings by not getting it right.

– Please think about it. If you read TFP as Sherlock’s coming out, than we can expect to see all what we desired later.

To see Sherlock and John as a happy couple, experiencing a proper romantic relationship, there are some steps missing, which we can expect for S5 (hopefully).

But first Sherlock needs to:

heal his inner child (plane landed safely, TFP)

stabilize his emotions to complete himself (reconnecting with Eurus, which we can see during the violin play in TFP finishing scene)

He needs to tell John

He needs to tell his family (shown in the TFP final scene)

He needs to tell Molly

John has to come out, too (will be difficult for John)

They need to tell their friends

Coming out in public?

Of course, they are ‘coming out’ ;-))))

Please reblog if you agree with me and think I got it right.

#tjlc #tjlc is real #tjlc explained #tjlc is canon #bbc sherlock #sherlock #johnlock #john watson #rouge #tfp #worriesconstantly #jenna221b #@worriesconstantly #@jenna221b #coming out #the final problem #@the-seven-percent-solution @anonymous

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nyangibun · 7 years

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first of all I'm obsessed with hear the wolf it's so good 😻 and if you're taking jonsa prompts still: Jon helping Sansa look for Lady in a storm 😻

You are way, waaaaaay too sweet! Thank you so very much! You have no idea how much I appreciate you saying that With that said, here’s my attempt at your prompt. Of course it is so much longer than I had expected since I am incapable of writing short drabbles.

But yeah, I hope you like it!

The storm came at a quarter to ten. It rocked the windows of the two-storey house and lights flickered in nonsensical patterns. Sansa sat alone in the den. She had been in the middle of binge-watching Westworld when everything went dark. For a few seconds, Sansa listened to the storm raging outside. It rained a lot in Scotland – more so than it did anything else – but storms weren’t as common. The last time it rained this badly the roof had collapsed in on the nearby post office. People were without power for days and it had even flooded in parts of the city. Sansa was living down south then but her parents had texted her consistently to make sure she was alright in London. Of course it had rained in London too but nowhere near as badly as the north.

But Sansa was home this time – and alone too. Her parents were at a party, and with the storm as it was, Sansa didn’t think they’d be home any time soon. It was more than likely they’d just crash at the Mormont’s, which they had been known to do in the past but that had been due to excessive drinking. Robb was away on holiday; Arya and Bran were still at university. Only Rickon was actually in Edinburgh but he was staying the night at a friend’s. That left Sansa and all their dogs.

Something crashed from down in the basement that had her frowning. Sansa, the dogs and Jon. She didn’t know why he was here. He wasn’t even family, but that was hardly a valid reason anymore. From the day Jon’s mother died when he was sixteen, Eddard and Catelyn Stark had all but adopted him into their home. As Robb’s best friend and with no other living relative, Sansa was not so unfeeling as to begrudge Jon for living with them, but it didn’t mean she liked him any more than she had before. He was still stupid, boring, grumpy Jon. Only now, he was stupid, boring, grumpy Jon that lived in her house.

Quiet click-clacking on the wooden floorboards announced the arrival of the Stark family dogs in quick succession. First came Shaggydog, Nymeria, Grey Wind, Ghost and then Summer. Sansa sat up straighter and waited. There were no further sounds of click-clacking. It was eerily silent once the five dogs had settled down on the carpet. Sansa craned her neck to peer down the darkened corridor. “Lady?” she called but there was no answering woof. Panic began to slide coldly down her throat. “Lady!” she called out louder this time, and quickly stood up. Again, no answer.

The next ten minutes was spent searching frantically from room to room. When she reached the back of the house, Sansa shivered. A cold gust of wind whipped towards her, chilling her through her thick hoodie and sweat bottoms. Someone had left the backdoor open and that meant…

Sansa turned quickly and raced down to the basement – the one room she hadn’t looked in yet. She knocked furiously on the door. “Jon! Jon!” She could hear the hysteria in her voice, and while normally Sansa remained as controlled of her emotions as was possible around Jon, occasionally she slipped up. Once, during Christmas holidays when she was fifteen and Robb and him seventeen, and they had come home drunk and broken her favourite pair of heels. She had screamed bloody murder then but this hysteria was different.

The door pulled back to reveal a tall, broad man in his early twenties with a scruffy beard and shaggy long hair. His face was shadowed by the only source of light from inside his room: an open laptop. “Sansa, what’s wrong?”

“Lady! She’s… Is she in there?” From the confused look on Jon’s face, her heart plummeted to the soles of her feet. “She’s gone! The backdoor was open and… and it’s raining out, and what if she can’t find her way home? What if she’s hurt!”

Abruptly, two strong hands gripped her shoulders and Jon’s face was now level to hers. From this proximity, she could see flecks of violet in the irises of his grey eyes, but that was probably the dim lighting playing tricks on her. “Sans, Lady is a smart dog. She’ll be okay.”

“What if she’s not, Jon?” Sansa hated the whining tone her voice took but the bond she shared with her dog meant more to her than any pair of heels, any stupid party, any dumb boy that had come and gone in her life.

Jon must’ve realised this when he went back into his room and grabbed a parka from a hook. He glanced back at Sansa then grabbed another parka. “Wear this,” he commanded, and she did so wordlessly, following him back up the stairs. Jon placed a hand on her shoulder in a motion for her to stay and disappeared into a storage cupboard. When he came out, he was holding two torches. Sansa couldn’t help wondering then if Jon had always been so calm and collected in crises or if he had to learn it when his mother died.

“Sansa…” Jon stopped in front of the door to the back garden that led out into a wide field fenced in by thick trees. She looked up into his eyes and noticed how serious they were. Jon was always serious, that was one of the reasons why she had never liked him, but underneath it, she also saw concern. Was that for her? Or for Lady? She couldn’t imagine it’d be for her but then he had to go and say, “stay close.”

Under any other circumstances, Sansa might have retorted with something scathing but she only nodded today. It was all she could do to keep her limbs from trembling, half from the cold and half from fear. Within five minutes of being out in the rain, drenched thoroughly through in spite of Jon’s parka, it became mostly from the cold. It settled over her like the unpleasant feeling of walking with wet socks, only everything was wet and Sansa could barely see beyond her fingers. Fat droplets fell from the sky so rapidly no amount of blinking could clear them from her vision. The wind bit into her cheeks like thousands of tiny little bugs nipping into her skin.

Wordlessly, as if he had sensed her discomfort and impaired vision, Jon’s hand wrapped tightly around hers. She started, confused by the action and even more confused by how nice it felt, but didn’t comment. They walked across the field to the edge of the trees. A moment passed as Jon seemed to contemplate whether to trek through a dark wet forest before he was pulling her forward again. She shuffled closer and gripped his arm with her free hand, hoping to gain something, anything, from his body heat. If he was surprised by the intimacy, Jon didn’t say anything.

They walked for what felt like hours to Sansa but was probably only thirty minutes. Her voice was raw from calling out for Lady and her trembling had only gotten worse. Fear had quickly given way to outright panic and Sansa tore herself away from Jon in a half-crazed run. She screamed for Lady, the tears falling down her cheeks thankfully hidden by the rain.

Sansa cupped her hands around her lips, readying to shout again, when she was suddenly slammed into a tree. A half a second later, a tree branch groaned from above and fell where she had just stood. Sansa blinked, gasping, as she looked at Jon. He was breathing hard, his body heaving up and down against hers, as he kept her pressed against the tree. There was a point of throbbing pain at the base of her skull where it had met the tree but she wasn’t as aware of it as she was of Jon. Every ridged line of his body, every twitch of his muscle as he stayed flushed against her. Sansa opened her mouth to say something, maybe to tell him to get off of her, maybe to thank him, but she didn’t get a chance to even think of a response before his lips captured hers roughly. It wasn’t slow or lethargic or unfeeling as she had once thought a kiss from Jon would be; it was desperate and intense, almost painful. What surprised her even more was how Sansa responded to him – just as painfully, as desperately, as passionately as if they would die tomorrow if they didn’t.

When Jon pulled away, Sansa was embarrassed to hear the moan of displeasure leaving her lips. Her cheeks burned as she noticed the hint of a smile. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why did you?”

Jon leaned his forehead to hers and sighed. “Because I’m tired of pretending I don’t want to.” Sansa’s ensuing silence spurred him to continue on. “When I saw that branch start to break, for that split second, I thought it’d hit you. I thought of course it’d be my luck that I’d lose you before I even got a chance to have you.” He paused, startled by his own admission, and took a step back. “I… I don’t mean I have you now. You’re not anyone’s to have. I just…”

Before Jon could finish his sentence, Lady came racing through the trees towards them. She jumped at Sansa and barked happily. Sansa returned her enthusiasm by placing kisses all over the dog’s head. “Don’t you ever do that again, Lady!” she admonished but the dog only whinnied in response.

This time, Sansa led them back. The lights had turned back on in the neighbourhood and she could see her house clearly through the darkness. Even the rain had started to let up now.

Once safely inside, Sansa peeled the parka from her body and tossed it in a heap on the ground. Lady bounded down the corridor, trailing mud and shaking droplets of water everywhere. Sansa could deal with the mess in the morning. She was too tired now, and more importantly, she had something else to take care of.

“Jon?” Sansa turned back to face him. He was running his hands through his hair and shaking his head much in the same way Lady had been. Sansa reached forward and stilled his hands. His eyes widened in surprise and she smiled. “How long have you fancied me?”

“Longer than appropriate,” Jon answered easily with a soft chuckle. She gave him an inquisitive look, so he elaborated. “You’re Robb’s sister. Nedd and Catelyn’s daughter. I can’t take advantage of you like that.”

Sansa placed her hands on her hips and fixed him with her darkest scowl. To his credit, Jon flinched. “Take advantage of me? Am I not an adult, Jon? Are my wants not important?”

“Yes, of course, Sansa,” Jon quickly amended. “That’s not what I meant. I… I didn’t think it’d be right. And besides, you never really shown any interest.” He shrugged but there was a smile on his face now. A bit self-deprecating, a bit smug, and all Jon. When had Sansa become so well-versed in his smiles?

“You never really gave me a chance,” Sansa countered with a similar shrug. “You just avoided me.” In a smaller voice, she admitted. “I hated you because I thought you hated me.”

Suddenly his warm hands were cupping her face. “Sansa, I could never hate you. Not even when you threw your shoe at my head.” She chuckled and his smile grew. “So do you still hate me?”

“I don’t know,” Sansa said. “Depends on how much longer it’ll take for you to kiss me again.”

Jon laughed, a sound that warmed every inch of her rain-soaked body, and kissed her. This time, it was slow but so far from unfeeling.

It was, in retrospect, this kiss that made Sansa fall in love with him, but she wouldn’t know that for many months to come.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa fic #sansa stark #jon snow #beyondmythought-s #jonsa prompts #my fics

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