#.......I have a feeling I might need to invent a separate tag for this

[keferon]

Monster hunter AU suggestion

Hello! It's me! The one that wrote the one-shot about Brainstorm's incorrect wanted poster appearing in a conspiracy show.

So! You said something about the imaginary camera panning out to Quark in the future and him watching a cursed version of the plot, right? I think I got a better idea.

What if Quark actually READS about a cursed version of the events?!

Like how with time history gets changed and twisted in different regions? What IF the cursed version is someone actually finding Roddy's memoirs and making a cringy graphic novel or a very inaccurate comic on the time period and Quark just happens to read it? Imagine a mess of a story with inaccurate translations, exaggerated characters, vampire romance level of cringe and so on while in the meantime, Brainstorm is fighting for his life in the past, trying to find a cure for Quarks and find a way home, unaware he's being portrayed as a silly, humanoid cyber-chicken in some bit-brained wannabe author's quick cash grab?

LMAO OH THIS IS BRILLIANT

You know what else would be really funny? Quark reads the novel and then another chapter unfolds and weird fictional version of Brainstorm appears and Quark is like "heh I like this one for some reason. He's so silly."

And then fictional version of Perceptor is introduced and Quark just looks at them and goes "yeah I ship that".

No one else understands his vision btw Simpatico is his personal rare pair👌

[tc-doherty]

My favorite things tag

Tagged by @phynewrites thank you!

Rules: Share the top 5 things you enjoy writing

I would say that most of the things that I enjoy writing The Most are specific character dynamics but I have talked about most of those before so I'm going to try to go a little bit more general.

1 – Characters who go together as a matching set. They need to provide something that the other is lacking or desperately needs or wants, or just in general slot into each other's lives very neatly (even if there are some growing pains to get there). The point is that I love writing about characters who find their concept of home in each other. So you might notice that most of my character sets, whether platonic or romantic, are balanced against each other very deliberately.

2 – Fairy tale references. Even when my stories aren't direct fairy tale rewrites, you will generally see a lot of references to fairy tale story structure and specific tropes because I love fairy tales and always have~

3 – Somewhat related, storytelling. I think that people telling each other stories is such a human trait, and a lot of my books include scenes where characters are passing the time by telling stories to one another, whether that's ghost stories or fairy tales or historical asides. I also love getting to invent mythology and history and fairy tales and ghost stories for my worlds so that characters have something to share!

4 – Mundane details. I like my worlds to feel as real as I can make them, I try to treat my setting as another "character" in my work so that it feels like the characters belong in a world and it isn't just a flat backdrop behind a stage performance. I don't know how well I succeed at that from story to story but it is my goal and I love being able to add in 'pointless' little details that are meant to show that there is a broader world out there with its own effect on the characters and who they grew up to be and where they're going. This is everything from clothing to weather to architecture to logistics to idioms, anything that I can add in so that my characters are portrayed IN a setting and not separate from it.

5 – Stories that take their time. I like giving my characters room to grow, and so my stories tend to progress at a fairly steady pace and the story itself can cover a long amount of time. I would say on average my stories probably take about a year, although there are of course exceptions on either end. I'm definitely not out here writing the most fast-paced or suspenseful stories around, and I don't try to do that. I don't have much interest in that kind of thing, honestly. My stories just move at the pace that they need to move at and if that means that they are gentle and quiet overall, well, I don't think there's anything wrong with that ^__^

Tagging: @outpost51 @bloodlessheirbyjacques @thegoddesswater

[tabswrites]

Happy Storyteller Saturday!

Today I'll send two questions (which are connected):

Question 1 - Imagine that your characters enter a magic labyrinth that shows them their biggest dream (s) come true. What do they see? Is their dream something they can achieve in real life?

Question 2 - In the same labyrinth, your characters enter a room that puts them face to face with (an illusion of) the person they hate the most or their worst fear. How do they react? Are they able to put up a fight against the illusion or do they need to be rescued? How do they feel in the aftermath of the confrontation?

Happy STS! You don’t know what you’ve done to yourself. Question 2 is ToL. But we’ll start with #1.

Adrin: At the place he is right now, he has no dreams of his own. He dreams of his sister, alive and well. His ambitions kind of died with her.

Mara: She would see herself in a massive library surrounded by every magical text she could get her hands on. And in that library would be a separate wing for all the cool inventions and magical artifacts she collects.

Oliver: Oliver…would be married to Mara, in a little village away from the city and his family’s legacy. He would make an honest living as a blacksmith and Mara would be running little experiments around their house.

Hettie: Much like Adrin, Hettie doesn’t have any ambitions for herself. Her life is dedicated to helping others, especially her mother. I think she would see her mother, happy and thriving in a nicer house, and her stepfather, who is a lot nicer and less drunk in her dreams.

Question #2

Okay, so I can’t exactly answer this question without spoiling 50% of what I have written 😂 Here’s why:

ToL Magic System (A Sneaky Little Peek 👀)

Tagging @outpost51 @writernopal in case you guys are curious (please ask to be +/- from ToL updates!)

The ToL gang have many similarities with one another, but the one common factor to pay attention to is: Legacy.

Adrin: Son of the former High Guard captain

Mara: Adopted child/protégée of a council elder, the highest position in their government

Oliver: Descendant of Victor Rothe, the man who destroyed magic and founded the city of Rothar.

Hettie: The daughter of an infamous traitor who was executed for starting a rebellion.

The Forest of Eternity, or Eternity as it’s usually referred to, is (basically) a parallel world. Without revealing too much, it’s just shy of a sentient being, and it reaches out to people they think might be able to wield its power and spread its energy. The way it connects to people is through their worst memories and/or fears. When faced with true darkness, how they react will determine not only if they are worthy of the magic, but which element of magic they are able to wield. The specific memories and fears they face have very much to do with their legacies. There’s a LOT more to explain but, spoilers…

So far only 3/4 characters have been tested, and that takes place between chapters 3-7!

[herehaveafandom]

This is a very random ask but, your tags on that post about attraction being wild when you separate masc/fem blah blah I forgot the post already.. Those are all exactly what I was freaking out about with my sexuality. I use lesbian for a lot of reasons, but some kink stuff with men or fictional men I kinda like, so seeing someone have the same situation is very validating.

Ok so sorry for the late response but I had to go back and find that post which was a lot BUT. Yeah!

I feel like a lesbian in my soul. My core. If I have a gender, it's some variation of "dyke". I love women. I love lesbians. peace and love on planet earth etc.

That said...sometimes a man is hot! Sometimes I'm attracted to him! I tell my friends a lot: "I want that man in a dyke manner. I want him in a lesbian way." and that I know it makes no sense but its True! Sometimes I need that man like a lesbian!

I've been thinking about the type of men i like recently and come to some conclusions. First, I don't like men Like A Straight Girl Likes Men (Probably partly because I'm not a girl. Also sorry for stereotyping you straight girls it will happen again).

Generally men I like are

Fictional. one of my favorite phrases is that @blue-jacket-blues is obsessed with is when I said "I need Obi-Wan Kenobi barechested and weeping on his knees." I WANT MY MEN TO BE TORTURED.

Queer. Queer men...I looooove fags...and sometimes I see a queer man and im like hm. we should be a gay couple. As my friend who i will not call out here says, "I like my men fruity."

As an extra layer to that, in drag. Trixie Mattel once said, "When I die, dipped me in G and throw me to the lezzies" and baby I will be at the front of that line.

Kinky. I'm going to expose myself here and say without giving out specifics that I put some money in the pockets of some ethical and highly enjoyable filmmakers and actors who do some, what shall we say, inventive scenes. I watch what I enjoy and if that's men then that's men. My fantasies are in the safety of MY head and thats perfectly fine!

Normal. Part of the reason I used to be so averse to ever thinking I could be attracted to men was because I wasn't into the red carpet sex symbols of Hollywood. I don't care about them. Some of them I appreciate aesthetically, but I'm not into them. You know what I like? MEN WHO LOOK LIKE REAL PEOPLE. You know who that is? BRENNAN LEE MULLIGAN. WHAT A GUY.

All of the above, or at least some combination. Kinky queer guys? (Leather daddies I am willing to do a lot for you.) When Brennan Lee Mulligan plays Garthy O'Brien and says "lovey" in that tone? Yeah. When drag queens get all domme? Hiiiiiiiii.

Also like...a lot of this is, again, IN MY HEAD. Fantasies are a safe place to enjoy things you might not enjoy in real life and thats totally fine! I engage with a lot of things in my head that I probably wouldn't do IRL.

But yeah, when I stopped trying to deny that there were some men I was into, my life got so much better. I'm a dyke who sometimes likes men. Could I force myself into a different label? Maybe. But it wouldn't feel RIGHT, and if I'm going to have a label its going to being one I feel comfortable with.

Anyway this was a lot longer than I meant it to be. No bitching in the notes about how I a person with less that 1000 followers am personally ruining the queer community. God bless and get head (Unless you dont want head in which case. rejoice freshly baked bread be upon ye)

[saltchipfishshop]

Vegan Passover Pecan-Banoffee Pie: my magnum opus

I set out with a dream. An impossible dream. To create a vegan dessert for my synagogue seder that was also kitniyot-free. Did I have to do this? Not really, my shul allows anything vegan, vegetarian or pescatarian that doesn’t have chametz, and we have a section for kitniyot. Am I vegan? No. Do I even keep kosher for Passover myself? Also no. But, you see, I have an almost pathological need to feed as many people as possible, and I am intractably stubborn, so once I realised how difficult this was going to be it only made me dig my heels in further.

It turns out to be borderline impossible to find vegan substitutes for pretty much anything that don’t contain soy, oats, cornflour, chickpeas, or some sort of forbidden legume. Subsequently this recipe is heavily reliant on coconut milk; luckily for me I live in an area with a large Muslim population and it’s currently Ramadan, so tins of coconut are front and centre of every supermarket display.

It’s taken almost a full month of trial, error and meltdowns in the butter aisle of Sainsbury’s, but I finally did it. I had to cobble bits of the recipe together from half a dozen different sources, so I feel relatively justified in calling this my own invention. The pecan crust is borrowed from a Tori Avey cheesecake recipe, I just swapped pistachios for pecans. I really think the crust is what makes it, to be honest. You could probably skip the ganache layer if you can’t be bothered, I just feel like it helps cut through the sweetness.

Recipe under the cut. Please please tag me if anyone decides to make this! I would be so delighted to see it out there in the world.

Crust

84g (⅔ cup) pecans

84g (⅔ cup) pecans

84g (⅔ cup) pecans

60g (½ cup) matzo meal

66g (⅓ cup) granulated sugar

71g (5 tbsp) Kosher for Passover vegan margarine (Rakusen’s Tomor*), melted, + extra for greasing

Pinch of salt (optional)

Ganache

113g KFP vegan dark chocolate (Lindt Excellence 70%, Green & Black’s 70%, Green & Black’s cooking chocolate are all KFP)

113g coconut cream/full-fat coconut milk

A few drops of vanilla extract (optional)

Caramel

200g caster sugar

100g KFP vegan margarine (Tomor)

200g coconut cream/full-fat coconut milk

Whipped cream

200g coconut cream/full fat coconut milk, kept in the fridge overnight

15-45g KFP icing sugar (check it doesn’t contain maize starch. You could probably omit the sugar and leave the cream unsweetened if you can’t find it, or grind your own- there are recipes for Passover powdered sugar online.)

¼ tsp vanilla extract

3-4 bananas

cocoa powder or grated chocolate to serve (optional)

chopped pecans to serve (optional)

Method

Make the caramel. Place the sugar into a medium / large saucepan. Place the pan on the hob over a low heat. Allow the sugar to melt, this will take around 5-8 minutes. Don’t burn the sugar! Make sure to stir constantly to prevent burning. You can use a wooden spoon or heat proof spatula.

When all of the sugar has melted and is a golden / amber colour, add in the margarine. Be careful, as the sugar is very hot. Remove the pan from the heat and stir to combine. Allow the margarine to melt into the sugar. It might bubble but that's fine. Once it’s combined, it might have a thick consistency. It might look like the margarine isn’t mixing with the sugar, but it should combine once you add the cream. Now add in 200g coconut cream. It will steam and bubble again so be careful.

Add the pan on the heat and allow to simmer for 3-5 minutes to help thicken it up.

Remove the pan from the heat. Set aside to cool for 30 minutes, then transfer / pour the caramel into a heat proof jar. Place the jar into the fridge. Allow to chill overnight. The coconut cream for the whipped cream should also be kept in the fridge overnight, to encourage it to separate and firm up.

If the caramel separates overnight, use an electric whisk to combine into a smooth consistency until there are no remaining lumps. It’ll be a more custard-like texture but still delicious. Keep caramel in the fridge until needed.

Make the crust. Preheat oven to 180˚C. Grease a loose-bottomed tin with margarine and line with greaseproof paper.

Blitz the pecans in the food processor until finely processed. Add matzo meal, salt and sugar and pulse until the entire crust is uniform in colour. With the processor on, drizzle the melted butter into the machine.

Once all the butter has been added, turn the processor off and dump the wet crumbs into the bottom of the lined pan. Using the back of a spoon, press the crumbs evenly into the bottom and up the sides of the pan (it doesn’t have to go all the way up, just as much as you can).

Place the crust in the oven for 8-10 minutes, or until the edges of the crust start to brown a bit and smells fragrant. Leave crust to cool for about ten minutes and then transfer to the fridge to finish cooling.

Make the ganache. Finely chop the chocolate and put in a medium-sized bowl. Put 200g coconut cream in a microwave-safe bowl and heat in the microwave for about 1 minute, watching to make sure it doesn’t bubble over.

Pour the warm cream over the chocolate chips and let sit for 2-3 minutes. Don't stir yet.

After 2-3 minutes, whisk the chocolate/melted coconut milk until smooth. Add vanilla if desired. Let cool in the fridge for around 30 minutes.

Make the whipped coconut cream. Chill a mixing bowl in the fridge for ten minutes (you can do this while the ganache is cooling to save time). Put 200g coconut cream (the thick white part, not the clear liquid) in the chilled bowl. Beat for 30 seconds with an electric whisk until creamy. Add vanilla and icing sugar and mix until creamy and smooth – about 1 minute. Avoid overwhipping because it can cause separation. Taste and adjust sweetness as needed.

Carefully run a knife around the edge of the crust tin and remove the crust from the tin.

Spread a layer of the cooled ganache over the bottom of the crust. Top with a layer of sliced banana and return to the fridge to set for ten minutes.

Add a layer of the caramel, another layer of sliced banana, and return to the fridge for ten minutes again.

Top with the whipped cream (I like to leave the edge of the bananas visible around the edge). Dust with cocoa powder or grated chocolate and add chopped pecans if desired.

*Tomor contains sunflower oil, but sunflower oil is not considered kitniyot in England: https://www.kosher.org.uk/article/sunflower-oil-kitniyot

[zoe-oneesama]

what are your oc's names? and your villian names for them?

I'll assume you mean my ML OCs, so, in reverse order of creation:

Suhayla - A friend of Alix and Freddie's, when people see the group they assume she's the mature soft one, so they're often shocked by how loud her voice is. I haven't developed her too much so I'm still working on her personal style - somewhere between a tomboyish desire to be sporty but liking feminine colors? I think she'd be the most diverse in her wardrobe.

The only real details I've solidified is that she skateboards, is on a roller derby team (where she, Freddie, and Alix mostly meet up), and she's part of Adrien's fan club. But I've also decided she's the kind of fan that is content viewing Adrien as a celebrity, almost fictional character and has no want to meet or get closer to Adrien, despite them going to the same school now:

Freddie's supportive but Suhayla is kinda mortified at the idea of meeting the person who's centerfold she's gushed over thank you very much.

I think she'd have a little brother who's maybe a year or two younger. I want to flesh her out more so I can think of a good akuma for her! Maybe she should have an out of place career goal, like being a software engineer?

Frédérique (or “Freddie”) - I decided from the beginning Freddie would be into Decora Kei who loves rainbows and pastels. Later I decided to have her go to the same school as Kagami (and Ondine), though I haven't decided her sport focus yet. Maybe something surprising like Rugby? I feel like she'd be Alix's inspiration for dying her hair pink.

Despite the fact I draw her more than Suhayla in my sketchbook, Hayla's gotten more spots in Scarlet Lady, whoops! I kinda picture her like the big sis of the group despite her not having any siblings, and I want her to have minimal hardships lol.

Look at her. She's an icon. I'll give her all the accessories I wish I had. Part of me thinks she'd get akumatized for being targeted by the teachers for "dress code violations" (as in they invent rules that specifically target her despite others getting caught in the damage, like only neutral colored nails or limit one hair accessory) but I might be projecting my deep seeded hatred of dress codes.

Tama Rapporte/Shiba - If you remember the Great Hiatus and how it gave birth to the akumasona/miracusona craze, then that's Tama's origin story. 16 year old French-Japanese adopted daughter of the Rapporte family of 5, Tama likes Volleyball, Gymnastics, and Flowers. She's the delivery girl for her family's Floral Shop "Fetching Flowers" and transforms into "Shiba" with the help of the Dog Miraculous (remember, this is before the Zodiac were canon lol).

Her kwami Spittz eats chocolate, which is often stolen from Tama's sister's stash, meaning Tama's alter ego was quickly discovered by her. Luckily her sister doesn't care so long as Tama RESTOCKS HER CHOCOLATE!

Since she's a "miracusona", despite being a separate OC and not a self insert, a lot of my personality was injected into her. You can search my #tama tag to see quite a few comics I drew in her hay-day.

Zoe Rapporte - (Honestly I need to redraw this again because I've got a pixie cut again lol) Since this is a literal self insert, this is my akumasona, who is transformed into the "Enchanted Florist" almost as many times as Mr. Pigeon - thanks to customers.

She's the active manager of her family's flower shop because she's never really wanted to do much of anything. She figures this way her sisters can do what they want to do without worrying about Mom and Dad's "legacy" and since she lacks dreams of her own she's not put out.

Everyday is a trial for Zoe while Hawkmoth is around.

[libelelle]

Underground reboot: It was established in the og series that Aleena couldn’t directly interact with her kids until The Time ComesTM. My question is, would that apply to Tails? Maybe at a point where he accidentally gets separated from the triplets?

HOLY SHIT WAS LITERALLY THINGKING ABOTU THIS LAST NIGHTTT

more under the read more

no. no it doesnt apply to Tails. and yes he does meet Aleena before the Prophecy is fulfilled.

imagining Tails wandering off after losing track of the triplets, and accidentally finding Aleena. she recognizes him as the little fox kit thats been tagging along with her kids for the last while, and welcomes him. Shes a bit curious about the kid who seemed to integrate himself in their dynamic overnight.

she babysits him for a while. Tails talk about how things have been going with his new siblings (fantastic. its been the greatest thing that ever happened to him), about his favourite gadgets and his plans for cool inventions to help win the war. Aleena, much like Manic and Sonia, finds herself very enchanted with Tails. hes very good kid and she cant help loving his enthusiasm.

Eventually Tails sort of trails off and she asks him whats wrong. he shrug and says that he isn't sure that he's doing good enough. that he isnt doing as much as he should and that he isnt sure that his new sibllings mom will want him. sad thing for Aleena to hear, since she is already imagining how the adoption will go.

Tails still doesnt know this is Aleena btw. i heart the irony. anywyasy she obviously needs to cut this line of thinking off, but like instead of being like hey my name is Aleena. that isnt true. shes cryptic about it cause at this point that might as well be her full time job. she tells him gently that that can't be true, that shes bound to love him as much as his siblings do, that she almost certainly already loves him.

doesnt make a lot of sense to Tails, whose sure you cant really love someone you've never met, but it makes him feel better regardless. not long after that thr triplets arrive, a bit frantic because they lost their little brother. Aleena is gone before Tails even notices that she got up.

[merlinfic]

Hello, I am looking for a fic that I think might be in one of the private collections on Ao3. I have looked through all the relevant tags I could think of in your tag list and still have not had any luck. I think the title had something to do with white lies, but I could be mistaken. If there is any possibility that you know this fic I will give you my first born. It has been driving me nuts trying to find it and I really need to finish my finals. Thank you This is going to be a long one 1/5

Ok so, Merlin and Arthur are best friends, Merlin is a PA for Freya’s dad. Merlin and Freya went on a date and Merlin decided it wasn’t going to work so he came up with the story that he and Arthur were together. It wouldn’t matter much because Merlin keeps his work and home life separate…until Arthur joins the firm. They keep the rouse going, Merlin starts staying at Arthurs, Merlin gets jealous when Arthur goes out. 2/5

It all hits the fan when Merlin and Arthur get in a fight and Merlin thinks Arthur is going to leave him. His boss calls him in and says that his work is slipping and tells him to work it out with Arthur. Needless to say, they do, Merlin admits he isn’t as straight as he thought.  3/5

There is a story of them in University where Merlin is giving a presentation with Arthurs jeans on without a belt and he drops them in favor of holding his note cards and Merlin is a picky eater. I remember them being at a pub and Arthur ordering for them. Also, there is a line where Arthur is telling an embarrassing story about Merlin and Merlin says that he wouldn’t blow Arthur later and Arthur is like “I wasn’t going to get blown anyway”.  4/5

There is also talk of Arthur buying a house and Merlin feels that he doesn’t have a place in his life. He is sitting on the counter of said house when he tells Arthur that he is in love with him. It has - fake dating, lawyer Arthur, PA Merlin, pining Arthur, not so straight Merlin 5/5 Thank you again!!!

Hiya! That’s probably One Little White Lie by this_is_kelly!

Summary: Merlin can't keep dodging Freya's advances forever, so he invents a little white lie to keep her interest at bay: That he has a boyfriend and his name is Arthur.

The fic has been deleted but you can find it here or here!

[chiliiscereal]

May I offer a prompt of how the turtles would be with a mom friendTM? you know the type I mean? like.... I think they might benefit from that kind of friend in the group lol (also I love your stories, your such a cool writer keep up the awesome work!)

Rottmnt headcanon: mom friend TM

And thanks so much!

Mom friends are severely underrated XD

——

-Okay these boys need a mom friend badly

-but that’s where you come in!

-as the mom friend you keep them safe in many ways

Donnie💜

-starting with this guy, he never really wanted a mom friend

-when April first brought you over he was cold

-didn’t even bother talking to you

-you were determined to befriend him, even though he left whenever you tried to talk to him

-you became comfortable with the turtles quickly and the others accepted your mom friend nature

-not Donnie though

-he didn’t hate you, sure, but you were too much

-you were too overbearing and too nervous for his safety!

-you’d make him wear a helmet when he used his jet pack 

-you made him put on SUNSCREEN whenever he went outside

-you told him to be careful when rewiring a project even!

-it’s like you wanted to ruin his bad boy image

-he hated it and wanted you to stop being so smothering

-…

-…until he realized that attention and moral support comes with the smothering

-the moment he realizes that he’s all for it

-he’s no longer hiding his inventions from you so you won’t bug him, but he’s seeking you out for your advice and praise

“Hey so I made this and… I don’t know…”

“Wow you built that? It’s awesome!” 

“Really? I mean, I know, I just wanted to show you that it was.”

-praise ain’t something this boy has

-have you SEEN how his brothers react to his ideas?

-he needs this

-with praise comes affection

-I’m talking homemade snacks and questions that his brothers never ask

-you’re there if he needs a cup of coffee or if he hasn’t eaten in a while or taken a nap

-“don, it’s been two days since you slept go to bed.”

-“*hissssss*”

-“I’ll make a cup of coffee for you after...?”

-“*hisses but less intense*”

-you may be good at making snacks and everything

-very good in facts

-but the questions are probably his favorite part

“Woah what’s that supposed to do?”

“Well it’s a device that’s meant to fix all the broken McDonald’s ice cream machines.”

“That’s amazing! What did you use to build it? How does it work?”

-you’re actually trying to learn about his work!

-you’re trying to learn about him!

-he loves it

-and he loves that you’re careful to

-it’s a nice change from his brothers

-you’re someone he can depend on

-doesn’t matter if it’s missions or just being a good friend

-and I mean it when I say depend

-you’re there when he needs help rewiring something or just to simply talk about his dumb dumb brothers

-honestly April isn’t even mad that Donnie stole one of her best friends

-she knows he needs this

-Donnie fully learned to trust you after the purple dragons mishap

-you told him they were untrustworthy but his heart was dead set on that satin jacket

-when he came back to the lair, late at night, with no satin jacket and a handful of his missing tech, he found you raising an eyebrow at him from where you had sat to wait for him

-he knew from then on to trust you and your opinions, even though his often got in the way

-you can often be found sitting on Donnies bed while he works, offering your company and comments

-Normally no one else is allowed in while he works but that’s just because they don’t have anything positive to provide

 Raph❤️ 

-Raph IS the mom friend

-your mom friend energy and his mom friend energy just work together so well together

-I’m talking planning missions together, figuring new ways to trick his brothers into being responsible, cleaning the dishes, and even making snacks together

-“so the mission is tomorrow right?”

-“yep! Should we bring apples with peanut butter or pretzels with hummus?”

-“well Donnie doesn’t like peanut butter, but Mikey does, so both?”

-“awesome! And you’ve got the water covered?”

-“dude I even have caprisuns packed so we’re ready!”

-the others find it to be too much with the two of you but Raph really appreciates the help

-especially during the pizza puff episode

-oh that part nearly set you on fire with worry

-Raph had never seen you that worked up

-you had a fan for Leo, a bowl for Mikey, and a bag of fruit snacks for Donnie

-Raph has to activate his supreme mom friend energy to get you to stop hovering over them

-that meant literally dragging you away from them so they could figure things out on their own

-he’s seen you be a mom friend to them all the time

-but never once for him

-you two were like... co mom friends working together to stop the younger irresponsible three

-until Raph got separated in the sewer

-oh man you were torn with worry

-you nearly destoryed the place looking for him

-and finding him all savage like that... ack that was enough to practically shatter your heart in two

-once he stopped trying to barbecue villains and destroy his brothers you took him to the lair and helped him calm down

-you even turned on a movie for the two of you so he could relax

-it was nice to have your best friend and partner in stopping crime back

-Raph of course was embarrassed because it’s HIS job to help everyone, not the other way around

-after much assurance you had him convinced that you didn’t mind

-he was grateful to have you and your help

-he just wished you didn’t worry quite so much

Leo 💙:

-this boy is soaking it all up from the start

-someone to compliment him?

-someone to help him out?

-someone to admire his achievements?

-oh he’s all for it

-he’s showing off skateboard stunts, he’s doing flips, and he’s randomly pulling you to him and creating a portal

-usually you end up somewhere sketchy but sometimes it works out

-you always have to be ready though

-one minute you’re walking to the projector room and the next you’re in New Jersey with a sheepish looking red slider

-his only problem is now he has to be more careful with skateboard tricks

-he’s fine with a helmet but when it comes to you hovering next to him while he’s going down the skate ramp...

-eh he’s not so fond of that

-praise?

-sure

-home made gifts and cards?

-always appreciated

-but you constantly trying to protect him from things he knew how to do?

-no

-just no

-now he only feels like he can skate if you’re not there or if he goes to a skate park without telling you

-you figure out quickly and still worry that he’ll mess up a flip

-doesn’t matter if you’re watching or not

-you’re the mom friend

-your job is to worry

-you promised that you’d stop worrying about him if he can back

-you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable in his own home!

-he agreed and you did your best to keep your promise

-...

-until he actually messed up a flip

-you don’t know WHAT he landed on but it must have been sharp because there was a LOT of blood

-maybe you thought there was a lot because you were so worried but still

-you hadn’t even been in the room but you heard his shout (and crash) and you came running

-oh he was lucky you carried gauze and everything in your bag because other wise they’d have to go buy some

-you chewed him out while patching him up, much to his displeasure

-you’re both sweet and sour about it

-“I’m fine! Look, nothing’s broken!”

-“I TOLD you that you could get hurt! I TOLD you it wasn’t safe! Why did you not listen- I’m sorry does that hurt? I’m sorry!”

-“yeah it does hurt-.”

-“than you should have listened to me!!”

-for a while he’s bitter that you were just waiting for him to mess up

-clearly you thought he was just a big clutz to you

-but after a while of him avoiding you and pouting you brought it up again

-“I’m not just waiting for you to fail you know. I just want you to be okay.”

-“that’s not what it feels like! You clearly don’t trust me!”

-“life happens, Leo! Doesn’t matter how skilled you are! You’re an amazing skater but sometimes mistakes are made!”

-ha that changed his tune quickly

-“you think I’m an amazing and skilled skater?

-you just rolled your eyes and left, not saying anything about his comment

-didn’t matter

-this boy is all smiles for the rest of the day

Mikey🧡:

-he was on board from the very start

-he’s got cuddles, piggy back rides, and his own art fan/critic

-lots of baking and cooking together

-maybe even drawing if he’s lucky

-only problem?

-you don’t trust him to go out on his own

-even if it’s just to grab a video game from the store or pick up pizza

-“I’m just going down the block!”

-“what if someone sees you?”

-“I’ll be careful!”

-“just let me go with you.”

-“no! I can do this on my own!”

-you’re always offering to give him a ride or tag along just because you don’t want anything to happen to him

-that means, of course, sneaking out

-not for a long time, just enough to get some air

-but that also means you’re staying up late waiting for him to come back

-he’s your buddy!

-you can’t let anything happen to him!

-he didn’t know about it until he found you cashed out on the couch with the lamp still on

-normally you gave him an excuse about why you were still up, such as a late night snack or a movie

-but your phone and the tv were both off

-he decided to think nothing of it until he noticed that you were grumpier in the mornings

-he didn’t want his actions to affect you so he started coming back earlier

-even texting you and telling you he was fine

-you two talked and set up a deal

-he could go out by himself and you wouldn’t stay up late waiting for him as long as you had his location on your phone

-it was easier for both you from then on

[rae-gar-targaryen]

loved you once [angel reyes x fem!reader]

A/N: So, this is NOT the Angel fic I previewed the other day. That one (and the EZ fic) is STILL COMING, I PROMISE! This just jumped into my head and wouldn’t leave. And I wrote it with a speed I am heretofore unfamiliar with (heretofore? Did I use that right?) I invented a tattoo and an ex-girlfriend for Angel, and I fudged the timeline a bit. So, apologies in advance for that. 

As always, if you want a tag in anything I write for Angel, EZ, the Mayans fandom (or anything else), please feel free to send me a message or an ask, or add yourself to the taglist (link in profile). 

Pairing: Angel Reyes x fem!tattoo artist!reader (as always, the appearance is ambiguous, but the reader is described as having female pronouns/parts. Also, the reader here speaks a bit of Spanish. I’m half Mexican, so I do imagine a latinx reader, but I hope I’ve written this so you can imagine yourself with no restriction.)

Word Count: 15.3K (HAHAHA WHAT THE FUCK all for a TWO AND A HALF MINUTE SONG, ARE YOU KIDDING ME????) of ANGST! (SERIOUSLY THIS IS SO ANGSTY) lyrical nonsense and the remnants of sticky, cotton-candy sadness … fluff that makes you feel empty. 

Warnings: ANGST, non-explicit references to infidelity, sexual references and sexual content, oral (male receiving), fingering and other nastiness -- so 18+ ONLY, please! Canon-typical douchebaggery, references to a past relationship, song references and poetry. (It is me, so yeah, poetry.)

Summary: You and Angel may as well be strangers now. But why? After all, you loved him once. And he loved you, right? Based on the song “Loved you Once” by Clara Mae. Listen here. 

--

We don't need to be best friends, we don't need to hang again. But tell me why we have to be strangers because I loved you once?

What were you doing here? You haven’t been back to the clubhouse in months. Not since -- well, you know. You hadn’t talked to him since then, either. But that wasn’t your own doing. 

No, Angel had erected a veritable wall of silence, and you respected him enough not to breach it. 

That was what relationships were all about, anyway, right? Mutual respect of the other’s needs? So when Angel had told you in no uncertain terms that your relationship was over, you were … upset. Understandably. You wanted to sit with him, talk about where this sudden insistence that you depart his life had come from, but he was resolute. With the absolute air of authority that comes with either a great deal of thought, or borne of virtually sudden external influence, with nothing in between. He clearly didn’t want to sit and talk about it. 

And so you didn’t. 

Ever mindful of his wellbeing, and when he was and was not receptive to communication. 

"It ain't working," he had said. You had settled for merely imagining the faraway look in his large, oilslick eyes, since he was much more interested in staring at his boots and the grooves in his floor, his forearms laid over spread thighs, unmoving and resolute from his spot at the end of the bed. Refusing to meet your eyes. 

From your seat next to him, you made to brush the arm closest to you with your fingers. When you touched, he gave no indication that you were even there. That he even felt you. Which you knew was bullshit. He always felt you. 

"Angel, what --" you hated the way your voice cracked as you tried to ask him what the hell was going on. You hated how you had sounded so small and quavering to your own ears. That wasn't who you were. You were clear, outspoken. It was always one of the things Angel said he loved about you. Loved.

You didn't know this, of course, but Angel hated it, too. How you’d sounded in that moment. Hated that his words had taken the fire out of yours, your voice unfamiliar in its timidity. 

"It ain't working," he repeated. "I can see it. Not my fault you can't." 

That was it. 

No "I'm sorry, querida." 

No "I hope we can stay friends." 

Not that you would expect an apology, or anything as cliché as a "let's be friends," from a steadfast man like Angel. Predictable in his volatility. 

You should have pushed back. Demanded an answer. You hated that you didn’t, the shock and sudden sadness morphing you into a silent, crystalline girl you didn’t recognize. Your eyes welled with tears, turning your head away from where Angel sat -- at least you wouldn’t let him see you cry. Even if you knew he knew the tears had spilled over your lashes and down your cheeks were of his own doing. 

You had arrived back at his place a day after your tense "conversation" to discover that your items you had come to reclaim were tossed into a box and left outside of the door. 

You had knocked once, in the hope that if Angel was home, he’d at least come to the door to shout through it, or, heaven forbid, would open it so you could look him in the eyes just once more while he shattered you. Your knock was met with silence, though you could have sworn you felt Angel on the other side of the door. 

In the months since then, you had cried (obviously), you had questioned (it was sudden, it wasn't just you; your friends were surprised, too), but most importantly, you had persevered. 

You had taken a bunch of new clients and inked some pieces you were incredibly proud of. You had gone out with your friends a few times, always with a wary eye on the door of the local dive, ya know… you never knew who would walk in.

Santo Padre is a small town, after all. And the cracks in your soul were nowhere close to healed. No molten gold to spill in and repair the fissures of your heart, rendering metamorphosis of something broken to something flawed, but beautiful. You sat, alone, still just… flawed. You had never felt less beautiful. Even after all this time. 

And your friend Aneesa, ever the supporter, would stop at nothing if it meant hyping you up enough to leave your cave of blankets, sheet masks, and comfort movies. Your only rule? All nights out with Aneesa were strictly girls’ nights. She was gracious and understanding of this rule, of course. She and Gilly had been together a touch longer than you and Angel. 

And if Angel had ever asked Gilly to ask Aneesa about you? Well… you never heard about it.

Not that Angel would do any of that. Shit like that was so middle-school. 

So, here you were. Back at the clubhouse after months of self-imposed exile for the sake of self-preservation. 

Coco had texted you -- the first you’d directly heard from anyone within Angel’s circle, inviting you to a patch party for some nameless, faceless newbie. The invitation had a string attached to it, of course -- the tattoo artist’s chair in the corner of the clubhouse needed a resident for any partygoers jonesing for new ink. Certainly, the new patch would need something decidedly “Mayan” to show off his new status. 

You had hesitantly agreed -- Aneesa would be in attendance of course, and offered herself as a human-sized buffer to separate you from people you were otherwise hoping to avoid. 

--

Now, perched near the tattoo chair, you busied yourself with setting out your portfolio of completed pieces, sketches and most-requested designs. You wiped down the chair a few more times than strictly necessary, but you wanted to be ready for anyone who might plop themselves down for a new piece of art. 

The main room of the clubhouse was sweltering -- a familiar blend of desert heat, cigarette smoke, citronella, and the smell of citrusy, foamy beer. The dim lighting and thundering bass giving everything a slightly blurry edge in your party-periphery. You glanced across the room at where Aneesa and Gilly sat together on a corner couch, thighs pressed together. Aneesa tossed her head back in a full-bodied laugh at something Gilly had whispered into her ear, swatting his arm -- Gilly’s reciprocal smile demonstrating his pleasure at having garnered such a reaction from his girl. 

A wave of cheers and noise accompanied the thwack of the clubhouse door swinging open -- more Mayans pouring in, jostling one another's shoulders, slapping each other on the arms, and good-naturedly cajoling. 

There was Coco, mid-pull of the cigarette between his lips, quicksilver eyes flashing around the room, taking stock of who was where. EZ followed, million-watt smile on full display as he gently guided a pretty girl with long, inky hair through the bottleneck at the entryway. 

If EZ was ambling his way in, then, surely, not far behind ...

With an arm around a tall, broad guy you hadn’t seen before, was Angel. Midway through a joke with the guy you assumed was the new patch, you took the opportunity to study the man you had once considered the moonlit orbit of your entire world. 

You hated to admit it to yourself, but he looked good… His arms still replete with thick, corded muscle. His hair was a tad longer on top than you remembered, slicked back and belied with cleanly-cropped sides. His smile as warm and blinding as the cruel light at the end of your better dreams, only for you to awake each day alone. 

As you continued your silent study, you were surprised to see -- still adorning his left arm … the tattoo you had given him on the day you had first met. You had thought he would have blacked it out by now … a cover-up on top of a cover-up. 

But there it was --- the soft, leafy greens creeping down his forearm on sharp vines, abutted with bursting blooms -- small, ornate gladiolus buds and a sprig of purpling rosemary. Such a flowery piece on the arm of someone like Angel might have been laughable. But if anyone dared, he would simply stare, stone-faced, with burning eyes and a set jaw, ready to ask just what they thought was so fucking funny. 

To you? It was perfection. It was remembrance. 

‘Cause I loved you, once… 

---

You had moved to Santo Padre from Oakland. Hardly an axis-tilting move, but significant enough to you. 

Your friend Oliver had offered you a seat at his tattoo shop. And you? You were positively itching to get out of the city. A few too many bad nights with a few people you could no longer in good conscience consider friends. 

So, here you sat, resident of one of two chairs in this corner parlour off the so-called “main” drag in sweltering, dusty Santo Padre. 

Your books were pretty clear … Not that you attributed much logic to the ebb and flow in any conceivable pattern of the tide that was tattoo shop patrons, but January seemed an agonizingly slow month. You filled the idle time with keeping the shop neat, disinfecting and re-disinfecting every surface, and organizing Oliver’s books. 

And if you weren’t dreaming up new sketches and designs for the more adventurous prospective client, you were jotting idle lines of lyrical poetry in the margins of your sketchbook. 

If the month dragged on like this, you were sure you could publish an entire book of moody, mid-winter prose that would make Charles Bukowski want to drown himself in stiff Cabernet. 

The dinging of the bell above the parlour door yanked you from your doodling stupor. You looked up to see who had come in, your gaze met with a towering, golden-skinned man donned in a leather vest, his boots squeaking on the shop’s linoleum floor as he made his way to the front desk. He leaned over it and rapped his silver-ringed hand against the top with the ease and comfort of someone who had been in many times before. If the ink trailing his arms was any indication, he may as well be a regular, though you hadn’t seen him in before. There was no way you could forget that jawline, and those shoulders. 

“Yo,” he called in greeting, eyes flashing to where you stood, walking to meet him at the counter. You swore you saw his gaze dart over your form, giving you the old up-down. An easy smile graced his full lips as he made himself comfortable leaning against the counter.  

“Oliver here?” 

You shook your head, the action serving to answer his question and --hopefully-- clear your head of the foggy spell this man was casting over you with his presence alone.

“Nah, sorry. He’s guest-chairing at his buddy’s shop in L.A. Did you have an appointment?” 

“I look like the kind of guy with a datebook?” He chuckled at his own joke. “No appointment, corazón.” 

“Walk-in? Always a risky strategy,” you lilted. 

“What can I say? I’m a risk-taker,” he replied with the practiced ease of breezy flirtation. 

You smiled softly, grabbing Oliver’s calendar from the desk, flipping to the following week. “He’ll be back in next week, if you want to wait?” 

“That’s no good for me, babe, I’ll be out of town.”

“Ah.” You huffed a bit through your nose “Bike rally?” You asked, gesturing at his worn leather kutte, cringing internally a little at the teasing edge your voice had taken on. Were you always this bad of a flirt? 

The man looked at you shrewdly for a beat -- seemingly trying to discern just how much fun you were making of him before taking mercy on you and peeling back the slight layer of awkwardness the conversation had taken.  He scrubbed the back of his neck before confirming,

“Uh, yeah, actually,” he rumbled a chuckle. “Why? You wanna go?” He raised a full brow at you in a mild challenge. 

Your eyes widened at his seemingly-serious invitation. You took in the quirk of his lips, causing the slightest crinkle at the corner of his warm eyes -- the look of a man borne of good humor and who smiled often. It was endearing, and if you were honest, made you melt a little. Even if you now realized he was teasing you. 

“Sorry, guapo,” you cracked a smile of your own, gesturing at the empty shop. “As you can see, I’m a very busy girl. Highest of demand.” 

“Claro,” he replied. “So, I better get in while the getting’s good, huh? Your chair open now?” 

“Uhm,” you chewed your lower lip, now slightly nervous at the prospect of spending more time with this man. “¿Quieres esperar para Olí? I won’t be offended. You haven’t even seen any of my pieces.” 

A beat of silence passed between you both, the man seemingly weighing his options. 

"I mean," You broke the silence and leaned forward, lightly tapping a fingernail against his bicep. “What if my art style doesn’t suit the king of the bikers?” 

"Something tells me you'll suit me just fine." His smirk was full-bore now. He didn't miss a beat, did he?

You were silent, probably for a few moments too long. Was he actually flirting with you? You blinked. He probably flirts with everyone ... get over yourself, you internally chided.

"Angel," the man said, recovering the moment and holding out a large, ringed hand for you to shake. You gave him your name, shaking his hand firmly. 

You nodded your head over your shoulder, toward your chair. 

"Well, come on back, Angel, you can tell me about what we're doing today."

Angel followed you back to your station, and you could swear you felt his dark eyes on your form as you walked, the thought that this man was looking at you with any kind of discerning attention made your cheeks warm a little. He folded his long body into the chair you gestured toward, and you took the rolling seat next to him. He proffered his left arm to you, tracing down a spot on his forearm.

"Just wanna cover this up," he paused, letting you observe the offending ink. "It's about time." 

"'Clara Forever,' huh?" You took in the faded, loopy lettering down his forearm. "Who's Clara?" Your tone was gently teasing by nature, but he seemed to clam up a bit at the question, regarding your sharp tongue with sharper eyes.

"Well, it wasn't forever," he finally bit out, shoulders now a little more tense than before.

"Aw, cariño," you sighed in good-natured taunting. "Didn't anyone ever tell you the number one rule of tattoo? 'Forever' is a certain jinx. And a name is almost never a good idea… unless it's your dog's."

You made a sweeping hand gesture over the rest of his person, your eyes noticeably cataloguing the ink adorning most of the real estate on his arms and what little you could see of the top of his chest. 

"How did anyone let you get this far without telling you the rules?"

He relaxed at the humor in your soft voice, comfortable now that he had confirmation that you were teasing him rather than seriously ridiculing. His posture relaxed once more, he waggled his eyebrows at you, also teasing,

"Le sorprendería saber que nunca fui uno para seguir las reglas?” He asked. Would it surprise you to learn that I was never one for rules? 

"¿Tú?" Your eyes widened in mock surprise. “Para nada.” Not at all.  

"Hey," he swatted your arm gently. "Cuidaté, niña. Insulting your customers? I can see why your chair is empty." He chuckled at his own little jab as you busied yourself gathering your supplies.

You turned and reached for him, holding his arm in one hand and running your now-gloved thumb over "Clara Forever." 

"So?" You queried, "What are we doing with this? How do you want to cover it?" 

Angel shrugged, the leather adorning his shoulders creaking ever-so-slightly with the movement. 

"Figured I would just black it out. I've been putting it off long enough. To hell with her anyway, yaknow?"

"Hmm…" you considered his proposal. "I could do that, if that's what you really want. Easy enough. But…" you trailed.

He shifted in the chair, arching an eyebrow at you.

"But?" He pressed.

Now it was your turn to shrug. You released his arm from your grip and gestured to the booklet containing photos of your most prized work. 

"Why waste the opportunity to give yourself something you really want?" You handed him the book. "Besides… from the looks of things, you have limited real estate left on this arm. May as well fill it with something… more you?” You made to hand him the scrapbook. “You can see what else I've done. See if anything sparks an idea." 

Angel regarded you for a moment. Leaning forward in the chair and slightly more into your space, eyes never leaving yours. He took the edge of the book, deliberately brushing his fingers over yours as he did so, making you hold your breath a little. If Angel noticed, he had the decency not to say anything. 

“Why not?”

You exhaled softly as he leaned away again, flipping his way through your book. 

As he scrutinized the photographic renderings of your pieces, you took the chance to really take him in. His strong jaw and full lips were objectively pleasant, abutted by deliberately-shaped facial hair. He had a prominent brow, something that would surely give away his feelings, even if he decided not to verbalize them. There was no hiding a frown or a smile on that face.  You fiddled with your fingers as he flipped through the pages. 

“This is some seriously top-notch shit, querida,” he voiced his approval, followed by a warm smile. He flipped his way through your minimalist renderings, floral pieces, lines of script, and one particularly involved piece with a burgundy phoenix and lifelike flames...

“Yeah?” You couldn’t hide the pleasure in your voice that he might think of you in a positive light. “Which one do you like?” 

He flipped the book to you, gesturing at a geometric planetary canvas piece you had etched down a prior client’s thigh. 

“Did you think of that one?” 

“The client had their ideas, I just execute, I guess… That was a fun one.” You shrugged, glancing at your shoes scuffing at the linoleum, suddenly feeling very shy under his scrutiny.

“Hey, don’t do that,” he leaned forward once more, his fingers gently brushing along your chin to bring your eyeline to his. “Don’t downplay your talent. You’re a badass. Own that shit.” He gave you a soft wink, releasing your chin from his grip.

Um, wow.

Was it always this hot in the back of the shop? Or were you just spontaneously combusting? Did that seriously just happen?

All you could do was nod. 

“Aight,” he crossed his legs at the ankles, making himself comfortable in the chair. “I’ve decided.” 

“Yeah?” You breathed, “What’ll it be?” 

As if he was doing nothing more complicated than ordering fries, Angel pointed at your book. “Dealer’s choice.” 

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t believe he was just going to trust you to cover up his ex’s name etched into his arm. “¡Oye! Did you hear nothing I said earlier about walk-ins being risky? Nothing about the rules?”

Angel scoffed. “About as well as you heard that I don’t give a shit about rules, babe,” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You like rules, huh?” 

Oh. The rumbling tone his voice had taken on with his last question did not go unnoticed by you. If there was any heat to spare in this shithole desert-town, it was now one hundred percent flooding through your body. 

But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d had that effect on you… (although, let’s be real, he probably, definitely, already knew).

“Fine, Angelito,” the mocking tone had returned to your voice. “But unlike Clara, this one’s gonna be forever. If I find out you cover up my art, I’m gonna blacklist you at every shop in Southern California.” You raised an eyebrow at him in a challenge. “Can you live with that?”

Angel nodded. 

“Do your worst, Vince.” 

You wrinkled your nose at the moniker. “Vince?” 

“Yeah,” he seemed so assured in his own cleverness. “Like Van Gogh?” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Van Gogh!?” You feigned offense, hand-over-heart, lashes batting. “Not even Frida? Come oooon, Angelito.” 

He chuckled. Shifting in the chair and offering his arm to you so you could get him ready. 

“You gotta earn ‘Frida,’ dulcita.” 

“Everyone’s a critic,” you sigh, shifting your focus and taking stock of the space on Angel’s arm and what you had learned of him so far.

Someone who was seemingly confident and breezy, whose rough exterior belied something softer that was just out of reach. Someone who clearly cherished things and people he adored, if the tribute you were now covering was anything to go by. And, by the same token, more than a little impulsive. He wore his heart on his sleeve, apparently literally. 

You gathered your inks and began to work, your playlist and the buzzing of the tattoo gun filling the silence. 

It’s not like you had any reason to know it, but Angel considered you as you were working, admiring your focus and the intensity with which you afforded your art. Was he a little nervous about the fact that you were free-handing a design for him off the top of your head? Maybe... But what was life without a little risk? And he certainly wouldn’t mind a little risk with you. You were, it was obvious to him, very pretty. It was more than a little off-putting how easily you traded quips with him, seemingly unaffected by his presence and everything that came with it. If it wasn’t for the little hitches in your breath when he gently flirted with you, he wouldn’t have anything to go off of in terms of your interest. Something that was both respectable and maddening to him. 

He reached his other arm over to the side-table, grabbing your sketchbook and idly flipping through the etchings. 

Not only was the book filled with little designs, splashes of watercolor mixing with pen and charcoal, but he noticed the cramped words in the margins, perusing at his leisure and ignoring the itching buzz of the needle on the skin of his other arm.

“So, not only a Vince, but a Frost,” he broke the silence. 

You paused your work, wiping your brow with the back of your hand and looking at him with a question in your eyes.

He tapped his finger along the lines of prose in your book. “A poet,” he said. 

“Ah,” you said. “Uhm, more like a bad poet,” you chuckled, embarrassed. You made to begin again, when Angel gently gripped the wrist of your free hand. 

“The fuck did I just say?” He lightly tugged, forcing you to look into his maddeningly honey-dark eyes. “Don’t brush off your shit. Would Frida do that?” 

You regarded his eyes for a moment longer, darting your gaze to his pouty lips, resolutely set in their mission of imparting some of his confidence onto you. 

“Point taken, Angel,” you pulled your hand from his grip, which he released, trailing his fingertips over your hand as he did so. “I’m the greatest poet who ever lived, you’ve convinced me. Fuck William Shakespeare.” 

“Yeah,” Angel boisterously agreed, pleased to be bolstering you but surprising you with the little barking shout, “Fuck that dude!” 

You chuckled, shaking your head and silently returning to your work, the silence filled once more with the pleasant buzzing as you drew away. 

When you were finished, you released Angel’s arm, allowing him to inspect the clean lines of the greenery that you had drawn out of his former-love tribute. What were once loopy, cursive letters were now vines creeping steadily along his forearm, soft, yellow and red gladiolus buds emerging from where Clara’s name had once sat, neatly finished with the clean lines of the purpling sprig of rosemary along the edge of the piece. 

Angel was speechless, leaving you to marinate in your nerves. 

“It’s …” he started, “... flowery,” he supplied, lamely. 

“No shit it’s flowers,” you shot back, feeling a little defensive now, but wanting to make a quick recovery. “And they’re for you, Angel.” 

He seemed puzzled. 

“Gotta say, Vince, this is the first time a chick’s gotten me flowers,” he chuckled, “Guess they won’t die?” 

“They won’t,” you assured. “They really are for you, you know? Look at you, the rest of your ink. What it covered. You’re clearly a man formed by your experiences. It only seemed right, si? Gladiolus? They’re for remembrance. Rosemary? Symbolizes thoughtfulness and memory.” 

You continued as you began wipe the piece clean before wrapping it in new saran-wrap, “Your memories and choices make you who you are, sure. But you never know… something good could bloom from them, through the cracks."

His silence at the end of your little soliloquy was deafening. He hated it, you were sure of it. Fuck. Why did you have to get so fucking clever with him? You should’ve just done some black ink in something tribal, something masculine. What the fuck was wrong with you??

You dared to sneak a glance at his face, only to find that he was already staring at you, lips softly upturned in the hinting bloom of a smile, tarpit eyes twinkling with a good-natured mirth he would come to reserve just for you. 

“Fuck Shakespeare. That was damn beautiful, Frida.” 

The heat had returned to your cheeks, standing quickly. 

You stripped off your gloves, and made to turn your way to the counter, gathering the aftercare sheet and balm for Angel to take with him. 

You spun back toward him before he could get up.

“Oh! Can I take a picture?” You held up your phone, shaking it lightly. “For the ‘gram?” 

“Sure thing,” Angel dutifully held his arm under the lamp you had used to work, letting the fresh ink and colors pop against the golden dunn of his skin. 

You took a few photos, deciding to scroll through your camera roll later on and post your favorite. You made quick work of wrapping his arm in a sheet of clean plastic wrap before relinquishing your hold on his arm, turning to walk back to the counter. 

“Uhm,” you trailed … the telltale squeak of Angel’s boots on the linoleum indicating he was following you back to the front of the shop. You assembled everything into a bag for Angel to take with him, grabbing one of your cards from the front card-holder, and quickly jotting your number on the back next to your where the instagram handle for your art page was neatly printed, hoping he didn’t notice your sneaky little move. 

Angel resumed his comfortable lean against the counter, turning and tilting his forearm, scrutinizing your work. 

“It’s gonna be a clean one-fifty, Angel.”

He looked slightly surprised at the figure, a light frown dusting his features. 

“You sure about that? For the size, and the color, and time and everything? It’s been, like, hours.”

You shrugged. 

“We’ll call it the friends-and-family rate.” 

He gave you a long look, very clearly looking you up and down now, a prolonged edition of the greeting he had graced you with when he had entered your shop mere hours before. 

“And is that what we are now, querida? Friends?” 

How was it even possible for his voice to reach such a low register when he said these things to you?

While your insides flip-flopped at the flirtation, you hoped your face was the impassive mask you were trying to school it into. You subtly brushed your slightly-sweating palms against the frayed hem of your shorts before bringing an elbow up to the counter, resting your chin in your palm, lightly batting your lashes at him before responding...

“Sure,” you replied. There! Easy, breezy, cool-as-you-please. How does it feel, Angel?

“One day with you and friends already?” He rapped his ringed hand gently against the counter. “Can’t wait to see where we’re at tomorrow.” 

He swiped the bag off of the counter, tossing a few crisp bills onto the countertop and a wink over his shoulder before exiting the shop. 

You counted the bills on the counter, watching as Angel left the building.

Holy shit.

Three hundred bucks. He had tipped you 100 percent of what you charged him.

Cheeky.

Maybe Santo Padre wasn’t so bad, after all… 

---

Now, staring at him from across the room made you feel like you were drowning in the sickly-sweet cotton candy of sugared dreams, now lost to time. The saccharine balm melted to acrid wax, leaving you with only the tinge of bitterness. 

You were jostled out of your reverie by the sudden appearance of EZ’s blocky frame, ambling toward you with the same girl from before on his arm. 

He greeted you with a slow wave and a soft smile. 

“Hey, girl,” he greeted, clearly unsure of how much friendlier and closer he should approach you. 

You took mercy on Angel’s sweet, (big) little brother, opening your arms slightly for a hug. EZ took to the gesture like an over-excited golden retriever, scooping you up and spinning you once, before putting you back where he found you, slightly dizzier than you were before. 

He offered your name to the girl by his side, who looked pleasantly amused at the spectacle before her, her amusement melting to recognition at the name EZ had imparted to her. 

Ah. So she knew who you were. 

You tried not to let that realization sour your encounter, easing a practiced smile onto your features and offering your hand to the girl to shake. 

“Oh!” EZ chuckled. “This is Gaby -- er, Gabriela.” 

“Encantada,” you eased, gently shaking her hand before having a realization of your own. “Gaby, as in Leti’s friend?” 

She nodded, a warm smile illuminating her already sunshiney features. You could see why EZ obviously liked her. She had the practiced social grace of a debutante, but the friendly aura of someone you had known for your entire life. 

“I hope you’re keeping Ezekiel out of trouble,” you teased gently. 

“Only as well as I can,” she replied. EZ rubbed the back of his neck as you two gossiped about him like he wasn’t standing right there. 

“Listen, hermanita,” EZ began, swirling the dregs of his beer around the bottle clutched in his hand as the conversation lapsed into comfortable silence, “About Angel --” 

That was a hard no. 

“Coco!” You called as you spotted the lithe man prowling through the crowd after obtaining a drink from the bar, effectively shutting EZ up. 

Coco sidled over, slinging an arm over your shoulder and nodding in greeting to EZ and Gaby. 

“Wassup, chiquita? Over here with all the cool kids?” 

“You know damn well I was never cool enough for the cool kids,” you knocked your shoulder into Coco’s good-naturedly. 

“Dunno about that, pequeña,” Coco took a drag of his cigarette, sighing as he exhaled. “I’ve got some pretty cool body armour thanks to you.” 

“All in a day's work,” you mock-saluted. You were doing great. Keep it light, keep it friendly. You may be able to make it out of this unscathed, after all. 

Gaby and EZ were speaking softly to one another just to your side, as you and Coco continued your conversation. 

“So, who’s the new guy?” You asked, nodding over to where Angel and the still-unnamed newbie were tossing back shots. You tried to ignore that each one had girls placed on each of their laps. Well, mostly you were trying to ignore one girl placed on one lap; tried to ignore as ringed fingers trailed up and down her thigh hypnotically as he howled in laughter at something the new guy had said. 

The longer you stared at the way he was touching her, the more You thought you could feel it on your own skin. And you knew all too well how that touch felt. Memories, make you, right? 

You blinked harshly, turning your face back to Coco’s, only to find his hawkish eyes trained on you as he continued to smoke. Now you were certain he had seen everything you had, and more. And you cursed yourself for slipping. Because nothing slipped past Coco. 

He took mercy on you nevertheless. 

“Andres. He’s aight. You may not remember him from before, when he was just a prospect.” 

“Guess not,” you agreed, shrugging amiably, suddenly very interested in toying with the hem of your flowy little summertime skirt. 

“Mierda,” you heard Coco hiss, glancing up to see none other than the new guy -- Andres -- walk over, his arm around the waist of the girl from his lap, accompanied by none other than Angel Reyes, furnished with his own lap-turned-arm candy. She was giggling in his ear, popping her gum and bumping her hips against Angel’s as she walked by his side. 

You felt EZ stiffen from your other side. 

Great. 

The easy smile you’d had when conversing with Coco now felt positively screwed into place, settling unnaturally, a stranger's face made up of your own features. 

Andres smirked at you in greeting, eyes trailing over you -- the most unwelcome iteration of that gesture in this context to-date. 

“I hear you’re the girl to see about some ink.” 

You bit back the snarky response that rose to your tongue. You see anyone else here, tonto?

“Sure am,” you replied, cool as you pleeeeaseeee. Maybe a little too cool. The ice in your voice was obvious to everyone except the strangers before you. 

You really were doing great, weren’t you? 

“Great,” the new meat brushed the girl off from his side, plopping unceremoniously into your chair. “You did that right?” He pointed behind you to where Angel was standing, gesturing at his arm and your miniscule mural of memorial greenery. 

“Cierto.” You nodded, sparing Angel’s arm the barest of glances.

“Aight, well, none of that girly shit, alright, sweetheart? Angel may have had the good grace not to say anything, but flowers ain’t really my style, yeah?” 

What the fuck.  

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Coco visibly tense next to you, obviously displeased at the uncalled-for critique of your work. Of a piece he himself had often admired. He would never admit it, but he thought the story behind it was even better. It’s like you had walked out of some shitty romcom Leti watched with her tittering friends and into Angel’s dreams, sinking yourself beneath Angel's skin like a dream he would recount to all of his friends. Coco knew the most about you by nature of Angel's second-hand stories when you were together. Although Coco thought, once he had met you, Angel's stories didn't do you justice. How wonderful and talented you were. How warm and welcoming.

Angel watched the exchange silently, clearly none too keen to defend the piece you had designed for him. That had come to mean so much to you. 

That stung.

You winced, almost imperceptibly. But you were certain Coco saw it, not much escaping his sniper’s eyes. EZ, with his owlish perception and photographic memory, certainly would have seen it, too. If Angel saw it, it’s not like he was going to say anything now. 

Where the fuck was Aneesa? Wasn’t she supposed to be heading this kind of shit off? You glanced over at the couches in the corner where your friend had previously been sitting with GIlly, and was now nowhere to be seen. Fuckin’ typical. 

“Aight, no más flores." No more flowers. “What were you thinking, then?” 

That was you, ever the professional. 

Andres showed you his phone, a rendering of an old-style beastly cat, like a panther from an old folktale, pulled up in his image search. 

“Something for a warrior,” he puffed his chest slightly. “I was thinking here,” he shrugged out of one side of his new kutte, tugging the button-up to expose one side of his chest. 

“You got it.” 

You set to work, cleaning the area to be inked and getting your tools ready. The rest of the group drifted as the project progressed, clearly not feeling the need to stand there for the entire duration of a tattoo. 

You were acutely aware that Angel hadn’t stepped as far away as the others, circumventing the periphery of yours and Andres’ space, not close, but not far. And he still had yet to even look in your direction. Or acknowledge your existence. 

You tried your best to ignore the icy shard of Angel’s indifference that was currently wedging its way between your ribs and lodging itself firmly once more into your heart. At this point, you guessed it would never heal. 

“Sooooo,” Andres lolled his head to the side of his chair to face you, slinging back the beer from the bottle dangling in his free hand. “I haven’t seen you in a while. You were around a little bit when I was prospecting.” 

You opted not to respond, aware that Angel was likely listening, and you would need to choose any words carefully. Andres had no such reservation, clearly uncaring about who might be listening. He pressed on, each word more infuriating than the last. 

“You were Angel’s little sidepiece for a while, right?”   

You tried to keep your despairing sigh to a quiet little nothing. 

“Sure.” You offered lamely. “Sorry, man, I don’t mean to be rude, but I really work better when I’m not talking.” 

“S’alright, jaina. I can talk enough for the both of us.” 

You hmm’d nonchalantly at that, lip imperceptibly curling over your teeth in distaste at the moniker. You chose instead to focus on the piece. You wouldn’t give a shitty tattoo, even if this guy was a douchebag. And the pleasant buzz of the tattoo gun. Maybe you were etching the lines a little sharper than strictly necessary. If he noticed, Andres gave no indication, continuing on with his diatribe: 

“So, what happened? I mean, Angel knocked that other chick up? Ouch, right?” 

You were now seeing red, the edges of your vision blurring slightly with angry, pinpricking tears. Thank fuck you were just about done with this. 

“But that’s the life right? I mean, we’re not exactly known for being steady with just one chick. You know how it goes ...” He eyed you up and down again, lingering a little too long on your legs before finishing his thought with a smirk “... Clearly.” 

You hated his use of “we,” like he was in any way, shape, or form worthy to be in the class of man EZ, Coco, Bishop, or, hell, even Angel, was. None of them would talk to you like this. No matter what Angel had done. 

You shut off the gun, pushing back from the space with Andres, spinning in your chair, and grabbing the clean wipes for Andres’ fresh ink. As you dabbed the area and made to bandage it, the oblivious biker grabbed your wrist. None of the teasing fun or gentleness in the same gesture that Angel had imparted when you had first met. No, Andres’ grip hurt. It was all bruising possession and entitlement. 

“I think we would have fun, you and I.” He leaned forward and far too into your space, the stale stink of warm beer heavy on his breath. 

You wrenched your grip from his, standing quickly and offering him a tight smile, cheeks flaming with your anger and embarrassment. How dare he speak so trivially of your relationship with Angel. How dare he think you were so easily won with his kutte and shitty attitude. 

“Uhm,” you tugged your fingers agitatedly through the ends of your hair, chewing your lip. “You’re all set, Andres. Aftercare sheet is on the table next to you. It’s on the house. Happy patch party!” Your voice sounded so shrill and fake in your own head, but you just didn’t have it in you to care at the moment. 

With that, you quickly whirled on your heel, in a distressed flurry past the Angel-shaped blur who had been watching the entire encounter, and out of the clubhouse door into the cooler late-night air. 

Getting heavy to breathe in this room together. It’s so awkward, we can’t seem to do it better. Can’t we just fake a smile and put our shit to the side? 

---

Angel had waited a whopping 18 hours to text you after your clandestine tattooed meet-cute. 

You were in the middle of exchanging consultation e-mails with a prospective client when your phone had buzzed. 

“Vince?” The text read. 

You bit back a smirk before responding,

“Vince? No Vince here. This is Frida’s phone.”

You watched as the little bubbles appeared in the corner, disappeared for a second, and then reappeared. You were grateful for the little manifestation of Angel’s hesitance. It made him seem more human. And it made you appreciative that he was clearly trying to choose his words with you, when words had seemed to come so easily to him when you had met. 

“My bad. Oh, beautiful, talented Frida.” 

You couldn’t hold back the smile on your features now. Grateful it was still you and only you in the shop so that no one could see your “obviously-texting-a-cute-guy” face. 

“It’s nice to hear from you, Angel. Good thing you didn’t throw away the card.” 

“That card was clearly a gift, querida. Much like the pretty flowers on my arm.” He snapped you a picture of his tattoo, the healing process underway. 

“Looks great!” You sent, cringing at your lack of ability to effectively flirt via text. It was something that your friends had teased you relentlessly about back in the Town -- your notorious lack of game. No! New home, new you! Be cute. Be cute. 

“So, if I’ve given you all the gifts, what do I get?” You sent with a “thinking” emoji. 

Angel at least had the decency to wait a minute or two before replying, either thinking about his response or keeping you in suspense… you weren’t sure. But you were grateful for the little opportunity to catch your breath. How did he make you so speechless when he wasn’t even in the room with you? Some things just weren’t fair. 

“Niña, I paid you for this ink. What more could you possibly want from me?” 

Tricky Angel. Zorro. Like a little fox, he had effectively maneuvered the conversation back to you -- the ball was in your court. Would you tell him what you wanted?

You chewed the end of your fingernail thoughtfully before responding. 

“You texted me, boy. Are you sure it isn’t you who wants something?”

If only your friends could see you now. That was damn smooth. 

“Boy?” 

You snorted to yourself. Trust a guy like Angel to get hung up on something small like that. The bubbles reappeared. 

“I was thinking about this pretty girl I met the other day. Hell of an artist. But a shit poet. Thought I would see if she was free sometime?” 

Angel was merciful. You could kiss him. Had he seriously just taken all the weight out of this conversation? Your heart felt a million pounds lighter in your chest, knowing he was asking you. The wave of relief that he wanted to see you again crashed through you, replaced in the tide with the backdraft of a feeling of mischievousness. You wouldn’t let him off so easily.

So you waited before responding. Let him sweat a little, right?

Only… you weren’t sure Angel was sweating as much as you were, fingers itching with the desire to text him back and accept immediately. 

When what had felt like an eternity (but in reality had only been about seven minutes) had passed, you picked up your phone, opening the conversation with Angel. 

“She’s free next Thursday … After your bike week, el rey de los bandoleros.” 

You put your phone back down on the counter, grinning like an idiot, feeling like you had just swallowed a bunch of bubbles. You entertained the notion that if your combat boots weren’t keeping your feet weighted to the floor, you would have floated away. 

Your phone dinged once more.

“See you then, mi reina.” 

Time passes slowly the more you want it to go quickly. And whenever you have a deadline you’re dreading, it gallops ahead. Time really is that bitch, and she does not give a fuck about your feelings. 

The following Thursday felt like it took a year to arrive. But it found you closing up the shop, your stomach fluttering with butterflies and pop rocks, adorned in your favorite pair of jeans and boots, a clean, flattering tank top that showed off your own ink. You hoped it was fine for whatever Angel had in mind. 

Honestly, he hadn’t said anything about your date. A few flirtatious texts here and there? Obviously. You sent him photos of the pieces you had done for new clients. He sent you ridiculous selfies and a couple of group pics of him and his friends at the biker event. One guy who kept popping up in the photos, Angel had told you, was his “little” brother. But there was nothing “little” about that dude. 

You loved seeing all of Angel’s goofy, smiling faces. Treasuring the photos in your small moments of quiet downtime. 

The rumbling of a bike engine greeted your ears, like the seductive purr of a large cat. You glanced up, a full Cheshire grin alighting your features at the sight of Angel’s gorgeous, deep forest green bike, and the man of the hour looking very at home on the seat. 

He rolled to a stop in front of you, unclipping his helmet and dismounting with his winning trademark smirk, ambling over to greet you. 

“Frida,” he scooped you into a hug, his tall frame causing you to lift, your toes now barely brushing the ground as he brought you to his height. He pressed a soft kiss to your check, setting you down gently and letting you get your bearings, chuckling pleasantly at the obvious, dizzying effect his greeting had had on you.

“Angelito,” you returned. “Back in one piece?”

“Hail to the king, baby,” he countered. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you teased, scuffing the toe of your boot into the gravel of the lot. “So, where are you taking me, o benevolent one?”

“Just gonna hafta find out.” He handed his helmet to you, helping you clip and tighten it beneath your chin. “Ever ridden before?”

“Uhm, well, sure” you replied too assuredly, quickly realizing your slip. “I mean, no. Not like that. I mean, yes, like that. But not on one of these.” Fuck. Could you be more embarrassing? 

Angel released a full-bellied laugh at your response, his head tossing back a little. 

“You’ll have to tell me more about alla that later, cielo.” You put your head in your palm willing the embarrassment to go away. Angel quickly pried your hands away, cupping your cheeks with his own warm hands, long fingers brushing your cheekbones reverently. “In the meantime, just hang on, okay?” 

You nodded, still cursing your idiot-brain that had partnered with the dirtiest corners of your mind to take over your mouth. Shut the fuck up, dumb-dumb. 

You clung to Angel as he drove, your hands roaming his firm torso probably a little too-familiarly. You enjoyed the way the wind whipped around you, tugging at yours and Angel’s clothes as you made your way up the canyon overlooking the desert that was Santo Padre. 

Angel parked his bike on the ridge overlooking the town, the sun beginning its descent in the desert sky in swirling hues of pastels and cotton candy pink-purple-blue overtaking the orange hue. 

You had never been up here before, and you told Angel as much. He looked pleased at that, pleased that he was the one to show you the best view of the Santo Padre sunset. 

Angel busied himself unpacking the bags on the side of his bike while you enjoyed the scenery. Pulling out a couple of wrapped sandwiches and bottles of water, he handed yours to you, coming to stand next to you on the ridge. 

"Thanks," you acknowledged, looking at the offerings. "What, no beer?"

Angel chuckled a little at that.

"I ain't tryna liquor you up, niña. Besides, you want warm beer that's been rattling around on my bike all afternoon?"

You crinkled your nose a little at that. "No," you decided. "Never mind. Besides, I'm more of a whiskey girl."

Angel glanced at you, sipping on his own water idly.

"Really?"

"Really," you confirmed. "Don't tell me you're one of those guys who thinks it's impressive when a girl drinks whiskey because it's such a 'man thing.' "

Angel held up one hand, defensively. 

"Nunca. Just took you for more of a… dunno? Maybe a rum kinda girl?"

"Don't think so. For now, though? Water and sandwiches do me just fine. Whiskey can come later." You took a bite of the now-unwrapped sandwich. "This is good," you confirmed around a slightly-full mouth. "Did you make this?"

"Of course. Pop owns the butcher shop down the street from your parlour. Sliced the meat myself, an' all," he said, a little proudly now that he knew you approved of his sandwich-making skills.

"Bueno," you giggled. "Thank you for this, Angel. Really. This is one of the nicest nights I've had since moving here." You shuffled a little closer to where he was standing, looking in his eyes as you thanked him.

"Bah," he waved away your compliments, "it ain't alla that. This can't be the most exciting thing you've done since getting here."

"Maybe it is," you pressed. "I dunno. Maybe I'm too boring for the king of the bikers?"

"I doubt that very seriously, querida," he turned his body so he was facing you now, sandwich long gone, fiddling with the water bottle in his hands. "You play your cards right, I'll introduce you to the rest of the club. Then things'll get really exciting."

You blinked. One date and he already was thinking about introducing you to his friends? Your inner shy romantic (okay, not so "inner," right? You're pretty clear about who you are) was doing little somersaults in your chest. 

You must've been silent a beat too long because Angel was quick to supplement, "Only if you want."

"I'd like that," you confirmed, nodding and smiling gently. 

"So, are you gonna tell me what brings an East Bay girl here?" 

You raised a brow. You didn't remember telling him where you moved from. He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck nervously, realizing you'd caught his slip. 

"I maaaay have scrolled your Instagram?"

You finished your sandwich, thinking about how much you wanted to tell him.

"Just time for a change of scenery. Olí is an old friend, and he offered me a job. I think he wants to travel more." You shrugged, "It just felt like it was time. Plus, I dunno… I like it here. Much quieter."

Angel nodded at that, not having the heart to tell you that his club was not at all quiet and was the source of the disruption in the otherwise-quaint town. 

You kept talking, telling him about the friends you'd left behind, your old shop, weekends spent in the park surrounding Lake Merritt, and going to Raiders games. Angel took in your features as you spoke, the golden light of the sunset making you glow like something out of a dream he'd had once. Your eyes sparkled as you talked about things you loved, the books and art that inspired your poetry. How you'd gone to art school. You were something.

"-- Sorry, I'm rambling," you breathed in a rush, flush with the amount of talking you'd been doing in a record amount of time. "What? Do I have something in my teeth?"

Angel realized he'd been staring as long as you'd been talking.

"No, querida. Nothing in your teeth." He gave you a dazzlingly white smile.

"Oh thank God," you returned his smile with a small one of your own, shying a little under his gaze, and wondering how long he had been looking at you like that as you'd talked.

He leaned over you now, his height giving him the definite advantage as he'd -- not unwelcomely-- invaded your space. He brought one hand up to cup your chin, his dark eyes revealing flecks of sparkling gold in the pastel wash of the sunset as his gaze once again met yours.

You saw his quick glance down at your lips, you unconsciously giving a small nod before his warm lips met yours.

Oh.

You had obviously been kissed before, been the recipient of past romantic attention. All of that paled in comparison, melting away as Angel's full lips maneuvered over yours, both of his large, calloused hands gently brushing your cheeks as he cupped your face, sliding one hand down to rest on the side of your neck.

You sighed lightly, one of your own hands twined into his shirt, the other resting on the side of his firm torso. 

Angel took the opportunity to slide his tongue past your lips, your own brushing against his as the kiss deepened.

 You were in no hurry for the kiss to end, enjoying the way everything about Angel was so warm, something that was surprisingly welcome, despite the ever-present desert heat of Santo Padre. You could get used to this. 

You had only known Angel a short time, realistically. Your one meeting spawning a series of flirtatious texts and snaps, and now this date that, while low-key, felt almost too perfect to be real. He made you feel safe, desired.

You could already feel him slipping beneath your skin to rest in a special place in your heart. And while you as a person were generally reticent to share that part of yourself with anyone, you had a feeling Angel could take up permanent residence there. If he wanted. 

You dropped from your tip-toes, effectively breaking the kiss.

Angel blinked, looking down at you and noting the pleasant glow on your skin, lips now slightly swollen from his kiss. He could get used to this.

The rest of the evening passed in a pleasant blur, trading quips and stories as the sun went down. Angel told you about his club, his brothers. About his pop and Ezekiel, and how at one time, he enjoyed being the bigger brother, teasing, pranking and lording over EZ until EZ had hit his growth spurt and could (and would) definitely hit back. 

As he drove you home, you snuggled a little bit against him, pressing yourself into his back and enjoying the way you swore you could feel his heart pounding through the kutte and over the rumble of the bike and the road.

He'd dropped you off with a parting kiss and the promise of another date.

Another date turned into several. Time you weren't at the shop was now spent with Angel, showing him what you were working on, inviting him over for dinners and to watch mindless television while he told you what he could about his day. 

The both of you were slowly peeling back the layers around your respectively guarded hearts, revealing more of yourselves only to be met with pure acceptance by the other. Even blindados had to take off their armour at some point. 

You cherished your time with Angel, and he quickly found himself stumbling, head over his own biker-booted heels for you.

After a few months had passed, he had brought you to meet the club. You had manifested nothing but general acceptance of his lifestyle and were eager to meet the people Angel had so obviously cared for. Who had helped shape him into the brash but conscientious person he was with you. 

And one sunny afternoon had found you bringing lunch you had made for the entire club over to the scrapyard, Angel agreeing with your plan. You never were one to show up empty-handed. 

As you walked across the yard, past the gate, and into the clubhouse, your eyes adjusting to the dim interior from the blinding sun outdoors, Angel bounded over to greet you. Taking the bag full of homemade goodies from your arms, he pressed quick kisses to your cheeks, and one to your forehead. 

He turned, met with the pleasantly-surprised stares of his brothers. He announced your name to the room before turning to you, pointing at each man and supplying a name. You nodded, smiling and offering a warm wave to each. 

The man you knew to be EZ from all of Angel's initial texts and photos quickly strode over to you, shaking your hand in his impressively firm grip before bending down to press a quick kiss to your cheek with a,

"Bienvenido, hermanita. Angel's told me a lot about you. Won't shut up, really," giving you a sly wink as Angel swatted EZ's arm in annoyance at his brother's revelation.

Boys.

The smaller man with the sharp eyes and full curls you knew to be Coco made his way over to where you were now seated as Angel went to get you both drinks, the other men digging into your offerings as you made yourself comfortable.

He sat next to you, tossing you a, "You mind?" Lighting his cigarette after you’d shaken your head.

He studied you through his own plumes of smoke before leaning across the table and speaking to you, lowly and with an almost conspiratorial rasp to his voice,

"You did that cover-up for Angel?" He asked on a smooth exhale.

"Mhmm," you nodded. "He gave me free reign. I was nervous he'd hate it."

Coco seemed to chew over your words for a dragging moment. You shifted in your seat. He was definitely sizing you up.

"Bold move, pequeña, giving the secretario of a biker club a sleeve of flowers." 

"I suppose it was," you sighed, more than a little uncertain now. "But it felt meaningful, right, I guess. I just sort of… started drawing. I… think it worked out, though?" You trailed off.

Coco nodded. "It's a fuckin' good piece, mami. Angel told me what you'd said about memories making you who you are." He snorted lightly through his nose. "It's funny. We've never even met before, and you're already sounding like me." 

A small smile played across his lips, returning it with one of your own.

"I'm glad you approve," you nodded. "Angel's opinion obviously matters, and don't tell him I told you this, but it means alot coming from one of his family." 

And that's what they were. His family. You could see it. The obvious camaraderie and care underlying each of their actions with the other. You admired the system of support, cushioned by good humor, despite being flung regularly into harsh reality. It was clear -- they were there for one another.

Coco's voice broke your train of thought,

"Maybe you got space for me in your books one-a these days?"

Your small smile was a full-blown, sunny grin now.

"Of course. Anytime you want to drop by, you're more than welcome." 

"Gracias, chica." Coco leaned across the table and patted your shoulder before getting up and taking his leave.

And so it went. The boys would filter through your shop. Olí teasing you about his offense that all of his most lucrative, inked clients were now going to you. 

You enjoyed the time working on pieces for them afforded you -- offering you a glimpse into their inner workings, what they felt was important enough to take up permanent residence along their skin. Making idle chit-chat with you while you worked. And always, always sharing embarrassing little anecdotes about Angel. 

The months passed with you and Angel, finding comfort in your unpredictable, but welcome, respective routines. 

One night in particular found Angel wrapped up in your embrace, the physical embodiment of your gradual and growing trust in one another.

He had arrived home more than a little rattled, his eyes wildly darting to the corners of the room before settling in you, exhaling a shaky breath before striding the length of the room and crushing you to him, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips. 

You understood he probably couldn't tell you what had happened, but you asked anyway, needing him to know you would hear him.

"Angelito, everything okay?" 

He shook his head softly in the negative, but didn't elaborate. 

You pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

"Okay. We don't have to talk about it," you wound your arms up and around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you. "But it's going to be okay. I've got you. I won't let go."

He gripped your wrists, pulling your hands from his neck and sliding your arms down, bringing them to rest around his waist. Once he had positioned you where he wanted, he brought his hands to cup your cheeks, eyes heavy and dark with the weight of his stormy thoughts. 

He nodded at what you had said before bringing his lips back to yours. 

You brought one hand up to meet his, where it rested along your cheek. You twined your fingers through, joining your hands while breaking the kiss. You lead him through the apartment, bringing him to the bedroom. You had music softly playing from your speaker in the corner, candles lit to bathe the room in ambient glow and a warm, honey smell, all in anticipation of Angel's eventual arrival home.

You silently gestured for him to sit on the edge of the bed, where you took your seat next to him. 

You tugged the leather kutte from his shoulders, folding it reverently and placing it on the chair near the bed. He exhaled in relief, shoulders sagging once the leather manifestation of his obligation to a darker world had been removed. The weight of the world a little less on the mantle of his shoulders. 

You turned your attention to his feet next, unlacing and tugging off his boots. Then, his belt. 

Once he was just in his jeans and his t-shirt, you resumed your seat at his side, bringing him back into your embrace and carding your hands through his hair, as his head rested on your shoulder. 

Angel spoke, voice cracking as he broke the seal of silence in the room. 

"It was… it was awful, Frida." He sighed. "I do everything they ask. It's my job … Fuck. Sometimes I wonder how much more my heart can take. But then, I get to come home to you." 

His breath was shuddering now.

And while you didn't always know what to say -- it was a rare sight to see Angel so rattled. But you were a caregiver by nature, ready to give him the pieces of yourself that would make him feel whole.

You guided him down so that he could recline, you came to rest at his side, winding your arms around his torso, your face turned into his neck, cuddling him as he came down from the mania of his emotional high.

The moments passed, Angel's breathing leveling again as you stroked his hair in time to the soft music.

He turned his head to look at you, admiring the flutter of your lashes as you blinked at him, your gaze warm and adoring, full of twinkling fairy light and starshine. 

"Te amo, querida," Angel breathed. This was not the first time he had said it to you during your months together. But each time felt as momentous as the first, each declaration of love felt like the slip of something sweet, and you were determined to store it in your heart and mind forever.

"I love you too, Angel. More than anything," you murmured. "I love your smile, your sense of humor, your strength." You pressed kisses to his face and neck with each admission. "Mostly, I love your strength. And that you trust me enough to tell me when you don't always feel it."

He sucked in a shuddering breath before whispering to you,

"I love your mind. How creative you are. How you see everything so beautiful, just like you," he hmm’d. "Mostly I love your trust. And that you choose to give it to me." 

You kissed him again, leaning over him with your entire body, pressing your palms gently into his shoulders. 

As your kiss deepened, you each began to tug at the other. His hands carded through your hair, tugging gently, but firmly. You lifted his shirt from his torso, the kiss breaking so you could peel it away.

You divested one another of each layer, baring yourselves to the other, body and soul. Again, this wasn't the first time you had done this. But this felt momentous nonetheless. 

Angel skimmed his hands over your form, running his hands softly down and over your breasts, loving your soft sigh at his touch. 

You leaned over him once more, reluctantly removing his hands from you, and placing them gently down at his sides. 

"Your heart is mine, mine to protect," You hummed softly, invading his senses and placing kisses down Angel's neck and to his chest, trailing your lips lovingly over Angel's heart, and pressing one last deliberate kiss there. "And I take my job very seriously." 

As you kissed him, you lightly trailed your fingers down his torso, coming to rest at his hip.

Your declaration was met with silence; you glanced up at Angel through your lashes only to find him already looking down through heavy-lidded eyes at you, his now swirling with some unnamed, weighted emotion.

You trailed your hand across his hip, not breaking eye contact as you took his hardening length into your hand. He inhaled sharply at the sensation of your grip, but refused to look away as you began to pump him slowly, still pressing kisses to his hips, torso and thighs. 

"Please, querida," Angel gasped.

"Please, what?" You murmured back, your voice taking a throaty register you reserved strictly for private moments with your beloved.

"Please… use your pretty mouth?" 

You nodded. 

"Relájate, baby, I've got you," you assured. Sweeping your hair back, the action washing Angel with the sweeping comfort of your scent as you made your way lower down his body. 

Angel slumped back against the bedspread, glittering galaxy eyes still trained on you as you lavished him with attention. 

You took the opportunity to flatten your tongue, licking a broad stripe up the length of him, one hand braced against his firm thigh, the other holding him gently at the base of his cock as you worked.

You swirled your tongue around the tip of him, delighted at his throaty moans, feeling the effect they had on you, making you feel like you were burning from the inside, feeling the slickness from your own center as your thighs rubbed together. 

Taking Angel wholly into your mouth now, you bobbed over him, relishing in the heavy feel of him in your mouth and the throaty groans you received from Angel in response. 

Before you could spend too long lavishing him with attention, Angel tugged on your hair at the base of your neck. Following his grip, you lifted your head and released him from, watching (a little greedily) as his thick length bobbed against him when you relinquished him from the confines of your mouth. 

He guided you up his body, hand still knotted in your hair, pushing his mouth onto yours, uncaring of the saliva on your lips and chin, and the taste of himself on your tongue. 

You straddled his hips, surging the rest of the way up his body and effectively deepening the kiss. The hand that was once in your hair now made its way to loosely grip at your throat, the other skimming his way down your breasts, across your ribs and toward your center.

As his fingers traced through your folds, you involuntarily rolled your hips into his hand, alight at his touch, and desperately seeking more. 

Angel touching you was like the shock of a live wire. Every time felt just as electric as the last, goosebumps erupting across your flesh as his fingers traced across your skin. 

He chuckled through your fused mouths, drawing back at your reaction and the wetness he found between your legs.

"Eager, amor?" Every word fell that fell from his lips sounded like a dangerous purr.

You nodded, drunk on the way Angel's hand gently squeezed your throat, while the other was teasingly making its way to-and-fro across your wet folds, occasionally making his way up to lightly circle and press his thumb over your clit, making your eyelids flutter. Your hips continued to rock against his hand, silently begging for more, his teasing touch making you more than a little crazy.

"Yeah?" Angel asked, his voice thick and syrupy, the timbre like dark clouds. "That shit turn you on? Sucking my cock?"

His words combined with his touch made another rush of heat flood through you. You were certain you would pass out, that your knees would buckle. And you were doing so well, holding your place up and over his hips while he played with you.

The hand on your throat gripped a little tighter, causing your eyes to flutter shut.

"Nuh-uh, baby," he shook you lightly, all mirth gone from his eyes, no more pleasant, smiling crinkles at the corners. His full lips pressed firmly together. "I asked you a question. You answer that shit"

He pressed two fingers teasingly against your entrance, refusing to insert them, despite the little roll of your hips.

"Y-yeaahh," you sighed, head tossed back, "I-I fucking love it -- love you, Angel."

He rewarded you by sliding a long finger into you, allowing you to ride his hand. The hand still around your throat guiding you forward, over him, allowing him to press hot, open-mouthed kisses, first to your lips, dirty and raw, like an exposed nerve in his unabashed want for you. 

He relinquished his hold on your neck, allowing him to trail his lips and his tongue there, kissing you softly behind your ear, down and around your neck to your collarbones, all while his fingers continued their earnest treatment inside of you, his thumb now pressing to your clit, your warming crescendo building.

Using his height and the fact that you were straddling him, Angel encouraged you to lean forward, allowing him to capture one of your breasts in his grip, his mouth following. His warm tongue swirled around your nipple before he sucked the bud into his mouth, grazing his teeth ever so gently over your sensitive flesh.

Angel's attention was rewarded with your gasping sighs and breathy moans. How anyone could make you feel this good was beyond you. Angel had an uncanny ability to elicit responses and feelings like no other person before him.

You felt the thrumming hum and warm, sticky wave of your orgasm building as Angel worked his fingers inside of you, stroking that particular spot from within that he knew would be your undoing.

"O-oh," you whined, keening noises caught in your throat. "Please, baby, I n-need you. Need you inside." 

The room was sweltering. Or was it just you? Angel withdrew his fingers smoothly, not sparing you the chance to be disappointed at the loss of feeling as he smoothly flipped the two of you, guiding you down to the mattress and hovering over your trembling form. 

"Yeah?" Angel asked. "You ready for that, querida?"

You gazed up at him through your lashes, longingly. He would give everything, anything, that he had in the world if you only looked at him like that forever, gaze full of warmth, heat, and unfiltered, starry adoration. 

"Mmm," you nodded, "Please? Angel?"

He was only a man, after all. Who was he to refuse when you asked so prettily for him?

He gently turned you over so that your back was to him, running his hands down the slope of your back and guiding you to your knees, propping your hips up.

Positioning himself behind you, Angel resumed his grip on your throat, using it to guide your head around so that he could kiss you again while he guided himself inside of you. You moaned into the kiss at the sensation, never tired of feeling every ridge of his thick cock sliding into you like he belonged there.

Angel groaned, breaking the kiss and shaking his head, chuckling darkly, his eyes flashing as he swore, 

"Never fuckin' get tired of that shit," he began to move his hips, using his other hand that was gripping your hip to guide you along his lengthy, meeting his thrusts. "Never tired of your pussy … You're so … good."

Angel's words coupled with his thrusts were driving you crazy, causing you to eagerly meet him with the momentum of your own hips, the heat in the room spliced with the distinctive noise of his skin meeting yours. 

Angel, leaning over your back, crowded your every sense, the taste of him, of his kisses still lingering on your tongue. Your ears met with the harmony of your two bodies and the filthy words and sounds coming from Angel's mouth. The sight of him was as intoxicating as ever, as you looked over your shoulder at him, the shadows of the room playing across his tawny skin, glimmering in the low light with the sheen of sweat you knew was also present on yours.

“Say my name,” Angel pants into the slick skin on your back, kissing a line down your spine, his body covering yours possessively.

You were too caught up in everything Angel, failing to respond quickly enough for his liking as you gasped at every thrust.

A crack of heat flashed across your ass, Angel swatting you there once. You should be annoyed, but you couldn't lie -- you fucking loved it when he was like this. Only for you. 

"A-angel," you sighed, the crescendo of your orgasm climbing, threatening to burst any second, you tightening around Angel.

"Bueno," he purred. "You close? Yeah, you fucking are," Angel snarled, taking in the way you threw your hips back desperately to meet him, squirming one hand beneath you to touch yourself. "You can have it, baby, I'll make it good. You just gotta ask pretty for me." 

You deepened the arch in your back, flexing your hips back toward Angel, and gripping the bedspread before you in your fingers, face pressed flush with the sheets, your other hand still pressed to your clit.

Angel tilted your head, leaning over further and gripping your jaw, squeezing to pucker your cheeks. He kissed you, sucking your lower lip between his. He kissed you gently, a deceptive contrast to the hand gripping your face, his hips snapping into yours at a now-brutish pace. He pecked another light kiss to your lips, followed by another, gently biting your lip and dragging it lightly as he drew his face from yours.

He released your lips as you whispered another plea into his mouth.

"Come on then, baby." 

Your orgasm washed over you, pinpricks of striking matches splintering across your skin, followed by a euphoric wave of white-heat, blissfully soothing every nerve it had just lit.

Angel followed, emptying himself into you with a few final thrusts, groaning at the way you tightened just so around him. 

He withdrew gently, collapsing next to you as you both caught your breath. 

Your lashes fanned your cheeks as you blinked hazily at the form of your love through the soft glow of the room.

"I do love you, Angel," you told him, leaning across the sheets to rub your nose back and forth against his, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, grazing your soft fingers against the lines of his forehead, easing them away into an expression of soft serenity. "Always."

---

Now, you walked out of the clubhouse, around to the side of the porch, a quiet corner away from the noise. Willing yourself to calm down as small, hot tears trickled their way, uninvited, down your cheeks. 

Your thoughts were moving a million miles a second, the battle of luck you were waging with the universe saw you quickly losing. 

The year you spent with Angel replaying itself in your mind. Every word, every touch, that goddamn tattoo. Remembrance, my ass. How you would hold him when he came home too high-strung and strung-out emotionally for words. How you would save the best leftovers for him when you knew he had been away and would be craving the Chinese food from the place down the block when he got back. How he felt inside of you on the coldest nights and in the most tender mornings. How he would whisper enchanting endearments into the shell of your ear as he rolled his hips into yours, your mind and body completely his. How you would wear his shirts and overly-large socks around his apartment, leaving doodles and scribbled poems on sticky notes for him to find in his moments alone. How he kissed you warmly, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like syrupy possession that you never wanted to end. 

How it did end. How he had thrown out your world, crumpled it into a crushed paper ball and tossing it away with the carelessness of a child. Ending things with seemingly no spare thought for your feelings. How EZ had let slip when he saw you in town that Angel was expecting a kid, the timing of everything suddenly making a little more sense. How it made you feel, now that you knew you were wholly his, but he was never entirely yours. How you had kept to yourself in the months that followed, the cracks in your heart widening until you felt like you would drown in them. 

The pulse of your feelings for him, always strong; they warm you. But it was still you they all left behind. 

Your thoughts were still swirling when, off to the side, you heard the porch door open and close again, and you prayed that whomever was coming outside was going to have a smoke out front, or that they were on their way out. That they wouldn’t find you. 

But of course, these things never worked out how you wanted them. You cursed any god you could think of for just how un-fucking-lucky you were sometimes. 

Because, really, who other than Angel was making his way around the porch to you? Taking in your hunched form as you leaned over the railing, looking anywhere but at him. 

Of fucking course.

You kept your eyes down, focused in your clasped hands as you leaned over the railing, refusing to look at him. 

And now? Now he was looking at you, and it's the one time you wished he wouldn't. 

One thing you wouldn't do, now that he was here, was break the silence first. He didn't want to hear what you'd had to say, so why would you grace him with your thoughts now? Petty? Sure. But you weren't the one in there with your hands on some ass while a so-called friend harassed your ex. 

A few uncomfortable beats dragged on before Angel broke the silence, shattering it like glass with a verbal hammer.

"What'd he say to you?"

You remained silent.

"What the fuck did he say, Frida?" His voice angry now, demanding. The same tone he used to break your heart. 

"It ain't working. Not my fuckin’ fault you can't see it."

You rolled your eyes, another shard of icy glass painfully wedging into your heart at his use of the name. Still refusing to look in his direction when you replied, softly but sharply, 

"You know exactly what he said. What I'm trying to figure out is why, exactly, you care."

"I care, Frida," was all he offered.

You snorted in response. Undignified, sure. But couldn't he see this was killing you? Where was his mercy?

"I do," he insisted, the thud of his boots across the wood of the porch indicating that he was crossing to you, coming to stand a ways behind you.

"I'm not going to do this with you. He said some shit. It's over. We move on. What more could you have to say about that?"  

Keep it simple, keep yourself safe. You gave him nothing to say back. And then… 

"And if I told you I wanted you? I wanted you back?"

You whipped your head around to -- finally -- meet Angel's eyes, which you did for a fleeting moment before zeroing in once more on your shoes, staring resolutely at the ground. You were not going to let him see you cry again, godfuckingdamnit.

The fleeting glimpse of his face, of his eyes meeting yours once more after all this time, was enough. He looked more tired up close than he had before. Still unfair in his striking beauty, his midnight eyes still enough to pull you in, drown you in their oceanic depths. You hated it. Hated that he still had that power over you. But try as you might, you couldn't hate him. 

Your silence was killing Angel with the precision of a thousand miniscule cuts. Each deeper than the last. Until he couldn’t take it any longer. He reached through the space between, for where your hand rested on the railing. You saw the gesture coming, and whipped your hand away at the last moment, cradling it to your chest like he had burned you. You faced him fully now.

You chuckled softly, wryly, and devoid of any humor before you muttered, "You don't want me, baby. Please don't lie."

“And how do you know that’s a lie?” Angel mumbled thickly, working his tongue around the words, through his own emotion. 

You scuffed your toe into the hewn wood of the deck, shrugging before you responded, simply, 

“If I was what you wanted, you wouldn’t have gone looking elsewhere. And you certainly wouldn't have found someone else. You wouldn’t have said what you said, ended it like you did, with everything on just your terms.” You sighed deeply, with the rattle of tears lodged into your chest before you spoke again, “You made up your mind and never even let me say a word. If you wanted anything to do with me, you could have at least given me a word.” 

Angel blinked, hard. The familiar pressure of real tears building behind his eyes. You were right of course. And fuck, weren't you always? You'd always told him like it was, harsh truths that only you could cushion in your gentle, empathetic way. 

"Please, querida, just let me explain what happened--" 

You held up your hand, shaking your head firmly, effectively silencing Angel.

"No!" Much softer now, "No. I- I'm sorry, Angel, I don't mean to be rude. But, no." Your voice small, but clear, as you'd finally gotten your opportunity to say something back to him. "I, uh, I don't want to hear any explanation, and you really don't have to?"

You lilted the last part like it was a question, but continued on. 

"You, um, you've had a lot of time to tell me something, anything, about what the fuck happened. And you didn't. You left me with nothing. Just confusion and hurt, and I've made peace with that. It's taken a while, but … I just… I don't need that from you. I gave you space, always respected your decisions and opinions, and now you won't do the same. You're still trying to take from me. Offering me an explanation now?" You scoffed. "That isn't for me, and don't fuckin’ act like it is -- it's for you. And I understand that, that's fine. I'm not angry at you for that, but I'm also not going to humor it." 

You exhaled shakily, you couldn't believe you'd said all of that, that you had made it through.

Angel was speechless. It made your heart feel even sicker -- all of this silence from him for so long, and he'd offered to explain himself and you'd (gracefully) told him to fuck off. Why had you done that??

It was about time you'd stood up for yourself, that's why. 

An explanation would be nice, sure. But where Angel's words, whispered affirmations and heady declarations of love, had once made your soul swell and sing… now, you knew, anything he'd had to say to you would only serve to do the opposite. 

And your heart, perpetually bruised by nature of you being a hopeless romantic, just couldn't take it. 

You hopped off the porch, spinning around to face Angel, finding his eyes on you still. Hadn't you wished for him to look at you? To really see you once more? 

"I'm out," you tossed a thumb over your shoulder toward where you'd parked your car. "Sorry, I don't mean to abandon the old post, but uh, I'm sure you guys have someone to fill in. I'll text Aneesa to grab my stuff, don't worry about it." 

Like he would, you thought.

You were mostly rambling to yourself, and not really to Angel, as you backed away, fleeing to your car. 

Angel watched you go, the resonant ache in his chest that had been ever-present since tossing your stuff out, amplified when Luisa had left him, and now sure to be permanent, buried in cement beneath the weight of his every decision, and every word.

You looked good, he thought. Your hair was longer than when he'd seen you last. Your little skirt flouncing as you strode away. Your skin still glowed, full lips still twisted into that wry smile of yours that he had seen from across the room. All of that was true, but your eyes were also tired, and your smile never quite reached them. 

The thought that he was responsible for dimming that sparkle made him feel sicker than he already had. The way you had brushed off Andres, despite his obnoxious insistence, and the things the cocky  new patch had said to you -- may as well add those to the ever-growing pile of things stained and tainted by Angel's guilt.

And he was left alone with that guilt as you left the lot. He turned back to the party. His cool facade slipping back into place. Not ready to face the wrath of EZ and Coco, surely waiting inside to proverbially beat his ass.

What would you say if I come over? And we stand face to face now that we're older?

---

Angel shuffled into his apartment, the late hour catching up to his weary form as he ambled over to his bedside, flicking on the lamp. 

Rubbing a large hand down his face, he sat on his bed in a huff of exhaustion. Your first encounter in months since he'd all-but tossed you from this very room was pricking him with a kind of nauseating nervous  energy. But all he wanted to feel in that moment was you, whether he deserved it or not.

He'd still had it, didn't he? Where was it?

He pulled open the drawer of his nightstand, fishing through its contents for what he hoped was still in there.

His fingers curled over his prize -- a slip of paper adorned with your handwriting. Scrawled lines of poetry on a neon pink Post-It note, curled with age and disuse, something you had left for him while he slept in one morning. 

“I was thinking of you,” you had said when he had asked you about it later, shrugging as if it were the most matter-of-fact thing in the world. 

Your love for him was clean in its simplicity and forwardness, whenever he could wade his way through the mire of your shy demeanor. You had stuck the Post-It to his nightstand while he was sleeping and you made your way to work. Your words were cramped and crunched into the small paper square, but ready to greet him with the shining light of a sunny new day. 

“I see your ardor through a pearlescent lense, and all is pleasantly pink and blurry with you-- Resplendent in your love's solar hope. You are so warm beneath the brush of my fingertips, and I burn. So in love with you, as I am and as I do."

Now, his eyes scanned the words for the millionth time since you had written them. He had committed it to memory by now, wishing he could hold you instead of this crumpled piece of paper, mocking him with its annoyingly bright pink hue.

But how could he? Angel was the kind of man who simmered in his emotion -- burning slowly, lowly, only to reach a pitch. He kept to himself until he couldn’t any longer -- and then it was all bleeding hearts on a very crisp sleeve. 

He had done what he had thought was right. Cutting you out with all of the brutality and finesse of a battleaxe, to focus on Luisa and his unborn son. He thought she was what he wanted. But now, he didn’t even have them. He had nothing to show for his decisions but the lonely, sick feeling ever-present in his chest. 

The you at the beginning of your relationship would have kissed each bruise in his soul, one by one, until they were better. Would have gifted him with the warmth of your time and attention until he was made whole again with the molten heat of your gracious heart. But the you now? 

Angel could never, would never, cover the tattoo on his arm, though he had thought about it. Blacking it out once and for all, so the piece of you he wore on his sleeve would finally match the  pitch, and emptiness inside. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was, as he’d said all that time ago, your gift to him. And he’d made you a promise that he wouldn’t. 

All he wanted was to look you in the eyes so he could remember that he loved you once.

And not that he had any reason to know it, but across town, you had made it home. Your phone shoved to the bottom of your bag, lighting up with texts from Aneesa, EZ, and Coco. But the only person on your mind was Angel. 

How much of what he had said was true? You weren't sure. But you were sure that you knew where you stood, still painfully alone and in love as ever, the cracks in your heart only fillable by the very person you had brushed off earlier.

And, while Angel readied himself for bed, snapping the lights off and attempting to cut through the oppressive darkness by staring at the ceiling with his own penetrative gaze, the empty side of the bed had never felt more cavernous, but more weighted. Mocking. 

If Angel was being honest with himself -- something he was never too keen on being in his more sobering moments -- he didn't love you once. He still loved you.

Thinking after all this time, I just wanna meet your eyes so I can remember why... Why I loved you once.

Tagging:

@themarcusmoreno @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @steeeeeeeviebb @qveenbvtch @mxsamwilson @ifimayhaveaword @huliabitch @pettyprocrastination @phoenixhalliwell @flightlessangelwings @cinewhore @velvetmel0n @moonlight-prose @rebeccasficrecs @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @aerolanya @djvrins @jenrebloggingfics @ciriswife @justanotherblonde23 @superhoeva @witching-hour​ @luckyharley1903​

[foenixs]

Sex with Monsta X

note: this is a headcanon to what I believe sex with the members of Monsta X would be like, I see most of them as subs and wrote the bullet points according to this theory (again, these are just my two cents on the topic)

if you like my works please reblog them with a nice comment or tag

includes- sub!Monsta X x reader, mentions of different kinks (overstimulation, pet play, pegging, whipping, brat taming, choking, begging, degradation, dacryphilia, teasing, edging, biting), oral

none of the gifs used are mine

Shownu

-very classic, vanilla type (does not need anything more, but he can fuck you any way you crave)

-will be willing to try new things if it makes you happy and has no problems with letting you top or dom him

-likes it when you tell him what to do and then praise him when he’s doing a good job following orders (the perfect service top)

-might seem like he’s not too horny or eager to have sex with you sometimes but that’s just his calm (robot xD) self, you could come up to him at any time and he’d be ready/make some time for you

-will be mostly quiet, but smile when he feels good

-secretly loves when you overstimulate him and will let you know with low groans

-strong suit: thrusts (this man literally re-invented bodyrolls!!)

Wonho

-bunny with a capital B, he’s literally so fluffy and soft, a total sub and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s actually into pet play (will be so happy when you buy him custom bunny ears)

-his body might be huge, but his heart is even bigger, and he’ll prove that in bed

-will do anything and everything for you, the most obedient of them all as he won’t even question your demands (this makes it very hard to punish him, but I mean how could you punish such a pure soul anyway)

-not afraid to moan

-lowkey has separation issues (I wonder why 🙁) so you’re gonna have to reinsure him that he’s yours and you’re his and nothing will change that

-strong suit: devotion (this just sums him up as a person)

Minhyuk

-he screams duality! Is a switch with a sub-leaning

-will be loud (!!), energetic, sometimes even bratty (but always in more of a playful way), but then he’ll suddenly do a 180° and become all cute and obedient

-very rarely gets flustered as he loves skin ship (so so proud of you and your relationship, at least in front of his members)

-not to mention he’s the con-artist of the group and will shamelessly use that to his advantage; if he wants to get punished, he’ll trick you into believing he did something wrong so you teach him a lesson, only for you to find out that that’s what he wanted and he actually hadn’t broken your rules all along (which makes you wanna punish him even more)

-every now and then he’ll get in his switch feels and will want to dom, but he’ll always ask you first and if you don’t like him taking the lead, he’ll drop it again or ask for a compromise (would rather push his own desires down than make you uncomfortable)

-I think he has the least problems with sharing you and he might even suggest having a threesome (wanting to have tried it at least once in his life), he knows you love him and is not one to get jealous easily

-strong suit: energy (would definitely be up for multiple rounds since he doesn’t get tired out easily)

Kihyun

-now this man is a little more complicated…

-I believe that he still has the mindset of men are on top and in control, while women need to be taken care of and he will use that mindset when you two first have sex

-you must be very blunt with him and tell him that that’s not what you are into and suggest that he let you top just once

-he will be very shy when he lets you do your thing for the first time and you’ll have to ease him into submission; will be even more embarrassed when he realizes how much better this new role feels

-will never let anyone know that he is secretly your sub, but over time (as he starts to trust you completely) he will melt in your hands like pudding and bend to your will

-his voice raises an octave while you fuck him and he’ll let out the most inhuman sounds (screeching, screaming, and what not), afterwards he’ll deny ever having made such sounds

-every now and then when he has a really bad day, he will become very bratty, not following any of your demands and he might even curse you out; that’s when the brat tamer inside you will burst through and you’ll whip him so hard he won’t be able to properly sit for days (will apologize for the mean things he said during aftercare and thank you for helping him forget about his day)

-threesomes are an absolute no-go, he hates sharing and would get super scared you’d leave him for someone else/that he’s not good enough for you (complete opposite of Minhyuk)

-strong suit: loyalty (you are his one and only and he doesn’t want or need anyone else)

Hyungwon

-he gives me the weakest sub-vibes out of all the members; doesn’t understand why you want to dom him so badly but if you insist on it, he’d still let you do it

-is very blunt when it comes to his desires and not ashamed to tell you when he wants to have sex

-likes it when you suck him off, but can’t take a lot of teasing/edging (might be unexpectedly turned on by overstimulation if you kept on going after he came and would ask you to do that again the next time)

-has a thing for feeling your hands rest on his chest and neck (not necessarily choking him), especially when you ride him

-loves making out while having sex and having you kiss down his neck and play with his hair, might even suck on your nipples if you let him

-can hold back sounds very well, but he secretly has the prettiest moans

-strong suit: lips (his oral skills are no joke, and he knows it; might play dumb about it just to tease you)

Jooheon

-the. Absolute. Fucking. Cutest. So adorable and so needy

-master at begging (is fluent in aegyo), always gets what he wants

-will cling onto you like a monkey and pout when you don’t have time to please him

-loves it when you tease and edge him, push his legs up to fuck his cute ass, pull on his hair, degrade him, use him, anything! just loves to have sex with you, all the time

-sex will pretty much always be rough and kinky so make sure to give him the best aftercare (CUDDLES!), will always thank you afterwards

-likes to wear your clothes and nothing else

-lives for the duality, like when you push your strap on down his throat while gently stroking his hair and telling him how good of a toy, he is for you

-will whimper so much and so loud; cannot keep quiet (you’ll have to gag him if you don’t want the whole neighbourhood to know that you are fucking your boyfriend, yet again)

-dacryphilia

-strong suit: obedience (will let you do anything to him as long as you do something; the only time he’ll whine and throw a tantrum is when you ignore him for too long)

Changkyun

-might be a major tease on stage but is so shy and quiet in real life

-loves to be roughened up but is not quite as straight forward about it as Jooheon

-lowkey likes when you slap him (whether it be his chest, thighs or maybe even his face)

-loves to get bitten by you and marked up and won’t bother covering them up the next day

-choking him will make him cum in a matter of minutes, sometimes seconds and if you don’t put your hands around his neck, he will literally grab them and do it himself

-is a growler and has the deepest moans (will moan out your title if you have one, if not he’ll just repeat your name)

-a god at eating you out, you practically live on his face (loves it when you pull on his hair while he goes down on you)

-he is a very honest and blunt person as well and he might even sit you down one day to talk about each other’s kinks and make plans for when and how you could try them in the future

-contrary to his on-stage persona, he is very affectionate with you and likes to hold you close to him/be held close to you

-he’s still young so I do believe he has a high sex drive, but he won’t pressure you into it

-strong suit: tongue, nose & fingers (uses the three to his advantage during oral)

masterlist

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 10 second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Meta)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Unclean Realm

Lan Wangji has a Louis Henry Sullivan moment on seeing the Nie family home, becoming enraptured by its overwrought monumental architecture after a lifetime of restrained good taste and single-story buildings.

He approaches the fortress with the expression of delighted wonder that he usually reserves for when he’s looking at the moon or at Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian is like, yep that’s a building, all right, but he supports Lan Wangji’s kinks.  

Meng Yao tells them about the Wen Clan directive, and has what appears to be a moment of genuine, affectionate amusement at Nie Huaisang’s reaction.

Jiang Cheng kinda blames the Lans for inventing the whole “indoctrination” thing and for encouraging his brother’s disaster bi tendencies. Wei Wuxian responds by complimenting the Lan Clan, almost like someone who met his true love got some real value out of the instruction he received there.  

(more after the cut)

One of the great ironies of this story is that Wei Wuxian sort of becomes a rogue Lan disciple because of his relationship with Lan Wangji. He relies on Lan temperament techniques, uses music as a primary cultivation method, has committed all of the Lan rules to his supposedly terrible memory and cites them on multiple occasions, and is an important mentor for the younger generation Lan disciples. Because Hanguang-Jun is just that good in bed.

Xue Yang in the background of this conversation is channeling OP’s church-enduring, school-enduring inner 10-year-old.

Nie Mingjue, Chifeng-Zun, appears, and couldn’t be more different than his brother. On first watching this episode, I saw him as a grumpy, sexy, very emotional leather daddy man who is quick to anger. Rewatching, I see someone who’s struggling with a growing illness...the resentful energy kind.

Nie Mingjue’s handling of resentful energy is very different from Wei Wuxian’s straightforward interest and acceptance. NMJ has a traditional cultivator’s view of it, regarding it as evil and as something to resist, while he is literally carrying it on his back. He’s like a secret alcoholic who is preaching temperence, and can’t find a way to be reconciled with himself.  

At this point of the story, Nie Mingjue is keeping it together, but is under a hell of a lot of stress, and Baxia’s blood thirst is already maybe a problem.

The Yunmeng bros think that Nie Huaisang’s fear of his brother is hilarious, because they don’t understand the situation. They think he’s just living in a hideously toxic family dynamic like theirs, when actually he’s in a loving, sorta healthy, if parentless, family that is being crushed under a generational curse.

Compliments for the Yunmeng Bros

I’m not the first meta poster to notice how happy Jiang Cheng is to be praised by Nie Mingjue.

He never gets this at home. Jiang Yanli praises him, but in that watery “you tried your best” way that doesn’t really stick.  Nie Mingjue’s praise really means something, because he is a fearsome warrior and stern authority figure. And this is a double compliment, because Nie Mingjue says he heard it from Lan Xichen, and agrees with it.

Let’s Make Terrible Decisions

Keep Xue Yang alive, says Wei Wuxian, and Meng Yao immediately agrees, although I’m pretty sure he would have proposed that even if WWX hadn’t.

So they do, not realizing that “kill him later” is never a good plan for someone who 1. super needs killing 2. has a whole lot of death-dealing skills.

Future clan leader Jiang Cheng notices how smart and talented Meng Yao is.  Xue Yang finds it hilarious when the trio praises Meng Yao, possibly because their evil team up is already underway.

Boss’ Bed Warmer Son of a Ho

The constant insults toward Meng Yao are about his mom, but there’s another level of leering implication, that Meng Yao seems to encourage in his conversation with the soon-to-be-murdered guard captain.

Nie Mingjue elevated him way above his expectations, and he is ridiculously pretty, which has to create rumors. In the Nightless City scenes when he’s fondling Baxia and telling Nie Mingjue’s family secrets there’s definitely a sense of intimacy that’s not just “loyal retainer.”

I feel like maybe this whole exchange is a bit of theater designed to show Xue Yang something without showing it to anyone else. Meng Yao didn’t need to have this conversation in front of his prisoner.

Let’s Do Exactly What We Said We Wouldn’t

Once the younger quartet are alone with Nie Mingjue, Wei Wuxian crosses the room away from his friends and practically into Lan Wangji’s pocket, if Lan Wangji had pockets.

He has no pockets and also has no personal bubble any more, when it comes to Wei Wuxian.

We could make a weapon out of Yin Iron, Wei Wuxian says, completely forgetting his entire conversation with Lan Yi, apparently. Lan Wangji doesn’t argue with this idea.

Nie Mingjue warns Wei Wuxian not to try it.

I stabbed a man in Qinghe just to watch him die

Nie Mingjue is like the Johnny Cash of the cultivation world, carrying the weight of his poor choices and trying to steer the young folk to the path of righteousness. But--like Johnny Cash--his bad choices have made him really fucking cool, so he isn’t very good at deterring anybody.

Meng Yao Didn’t Come Here to Make Friends

Immediately after Meng Yao’s fellow Nie clan people call him “son of a whore” again, Wei Wuxian meets him, is nice to him, addresses him by his military title, bows to him, asks why he’s away from the party, and thanks him for his service.

But Meng Yao has already decided to make friends with Xue Yang, so Wei Wuxian goes onto his list of people that he doesn’t give a crap about except if they can be useful to him.  Then Meng Yao goes to make out hatch a plot with Xue Yang.

I’ll Sleep On Your Roof

Meeting SongXiao seems to have done away with the last of Lan Wangji’s resistance to his connection with Wei Wuxian.

He hears a noise on the roof and, when realizing it’s Wei Wuxian, he smiles one of his tiny reserved smiles before heading outside.

When he sees Wei Wuxian drunkenly sprawled on the roof, limbs akimbo, wine on his chin and neck, mouth full of poetry about the open road, Lan Wangji gives him the most fond look imaginable.

Then he reluctantly leaves, with his signature “say goodbye, but only when he can’t hear you” thing.

They’ve both come a really long way since their first meeting. Wei Wuxian is openly and vocally attaching himself to Lan Wangji...but is not actually entering his space or asking for anything from him; he just wants to be near him, and wants to let him know that. “I’ll sleep on your roof tonight.”

And Lan Wangji just...loves him. Wei Wuxian is drunk, embarrassing, demonstrative, eager to make a hell weapon out of yin iron, touchy feely, and absurdly sexy. And Lan Wangji is pretty okay with all of that.

I Might Have Been Drunk

Wei Wuxian carefully avoids telling Jiang Cheng where he was last night.

Even if he did get blackout drunk, he would have woken up on Lan Wangji’s roof. And I don’t think he was as drunk as that. He just knows Jiang Cheng wouldn’t like the truth.

Wen Fucking Chao, Again

Wen Chao shows up to be annoying and boring.  This leads to a pretty good fight between Nie Mingjue and Wen Zhuliu. Note that when the chips are down, Nie Huaisang stands with his Gege without any cowering. Almost as if he had hidden reserves of bravery, and is not as helpless as he lets on.

Wen Zhuliu isn’t styled to be super hot, although he’s certainly compelling, and in Dance of the Phoenix he looks good with sensitive-guy hair wispies. I wonder what actor Feng Mingjing looks like out of character?

BRB, adding a tag to my follow list

Battle Bros

When the fighting breaks out, the Yunmeng brothers are decisive and united, with Wei Wuxian giving orders to Jiang Cheng and JC following without hesitation.

I feel like if these two could have gone through a few big battles together, instead of being separated during most of the Sunshot campaign, their whole relationship would have improved. On the battlefield, they respect, trust, and understand each other.  

The Pointy End

Nie Mingjue is holding his own against Wen Zhuliu, but he gets distracted by Meng Yao hollering “Xue Yang has escaped” and then shanking the guard captain right in front of him.

Wen Zhuliu takes advantage of the distraction to aim a very slow stab at Nie Huasang, and Meng Yao jumps in front to get stabbed on his behalf.

When the Yunmeng bros show up to help NMJ, Wen Zhuliu immeiately yanks Wen Chao back behind him and points his sword at Wei Wuxian. He absolutely sees these two as a serious threat.  Considering that eventually WWX is going to kill Wen Chao while JC kills Wen Zhuliu, this concern is not misplaced.

Wei Wuxian tells Wen Chao to stop being such a jerk, and Wen Chao menaces Wei Wuxian and gloats about the burning of cloud recesses. The burning, that is, of some part of cloud recesses that doesn’t include the library, the Jingshi, the main cultivation chamber, the rabbit warren, or Lan Qiren’s house, unless the Lan Clan is really really good at rebuilding things to very exact specifications.

In a rare moment of seeing Meng Yao’s internal thoughts, he is worried about Lan Xichen when he hears about cloud recesses.

The Yelling Part

Now we have the particularly nasty breakup between Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao. It’s...got some layers. Meng Yao is cowering on the floor, but is not apologizing.

He never apologizes throughout this encounter.

孟瑤無悔  - Meng Yao (has) no regrets

This scene is amazing and excruciating to watch, even more when you know what’s ahead.

What the Fuck is Meng Yao’s Plan

On one level this is Meng Yao, manipulative sociopath, setting up a cover story for his aiding and alliance with Xue Yang.  On another, this is Meng Yao, loving subordinate, being tossed aside by his lord because he dared to stand up for himself.

He uses the same “scout’s honor” gesture we’ve seen Wei Wuxian use to swear he’s telling the truth. Wei Wuxian is always lying when he uses this gesture.

I’m...not sure exactly what Meng Yao’s plan is, with all these chess moves? By stabbing the captain in front of NHS, he created an opportunity to plant a cover story about Xue Yang’s escape. He might be hoping that Nie Mingjue will forgive him and keep him on, while Xue Yang can stay in his back pocket to be used later.

Dry eyes? Try Visene

Or he might be intending to get kicked out, given his non-apology. In any case, Nie Mingjue is weeping during this encounter, and Meng Yao...isn’t. He is signaling distress in his voice, expression, and body language, but his eyes are dry up until the last moment, and even then they just glisten a bit. In a show where every actor is an expert at crying on cue, that’s got to be a deliberate choice.

Which isn’t to say that Meng Yao is faking being full of emotion in this scene. It’s just that the emotion isn’t necessarily sorrow.

What Does Nie Mingjue’s Head Think

Flip the view and this is about Nie Mingjue being betrayed by a subordinate, who has turned out to be a self-serving murderer. And on another level it’s Nie Mingjue being betrayed by his lover, who was just using him for advancement.

I rewatched the later episode where we get the scene as Nie Mingjue’s head perceived it, and he’s particularly brokenhearted and disillusioned from his head’s POV.  In that version there is a telling addition to the conversation.

Nie Mingjue asks about the guys who were roasting Meng Yao behind his back. He asks, if I hadn’t come, would you have murdered all of them?

Um. No, dude. Of course fucking not. That’s what a patriarchal authority does. That’s the way an angry Nie Mingjue/Baxia team might solve a problem.

Meng Yao has to use subterfuge to kill his enemies. And while he super hates being called “son of a whore” it’s absolutely not enough to make him kill someone, with the risk murder brings. Likewise, being treated well isn’t enough to make him spare someone. Nie Mingjue totally doesn’t get this, because he’s been the patriarch of this clan his entire adult life.

And Here’s the Actual Problem

There is a betrayal here, but Nie Mingjue is not simply a victim.  Whether it’s a sexual relationship or a non-sexual bond of affection, there can be nothing solid in Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao’s relationship within a feudal society, because it is fundamentally unequal. Even if they love each other deeply - which I’m not convinced either of them does - every encounter they have is tainted with power dynamics.

Meng Yao has been elevated by Nie Mingjue and quite probably taken into his bed, as well as being told many family secrets, but has not been given a new surname (like, for example, Wen Zhuliu was) or independent power. More importantly, Nie Mingjue has not used his authority to remove or punish the many people who disrespect his subordinate.  Lan Qiren would have had all of those gossipy fuckers kneeling in the snow, and Wen Ruohan would feed them to his mosh pit zombies.

Meng Yao is a murderous little snake, but he is right to be angry with Nie Mingjue about some things, and his pursuit of his own agenda is understandable.

Well, That Was a Slice

Meng Yao leaves, hurt, with a dignified bow; just as he did that one time when his dad kicked him down the Carp Tower steps.

Take note, both patriarchal authorities: that is his way of saying “I’m going to murder you one day.”

Nie Mingjue sits with his broken heart, as we realize that we’ve only spent 20 minutes with this guy and we’ve gone on an entire emotional journey with him. This episode packed in a LOT.

Soundtrack: Johnny Cash, Folsom Prison Blues

[mizelophsun11]

Mizeloph's Tale Chapter 2

Pairing - Right now the pairing is General Kirigan x OC Sun Summoner, but that will eventually change to Kaz Brekker x OC Sun Summoner

Summary - Ketterdam is a city of thieves and these three are no strangers as they find themselves the first to a huge money job. Past are uncovered and people who where thought to be gone to the other might yet still be alive.

Word Count - 1574

-

Ketterdam

Kaz Brekker had changed, he wasn’t the same as he was before Jordies death, when he got back from the sea of death everything was different. He learned very quickly that being alone was not how someone thrived in Ketterdam, so he joined the Dregs. His past was something that Kaz kept close to his chest, no one knew that there was one person he thought of but always tried not to, a girl with white hair. However, sometimes that one person was overshadowed by his greed to one up Pekka Rollins, the man that had ruined his life. Which made stealing the Heartrender from underneath Pekkas grasp very satisfying. With Inej and Jesper they walked up to the gates that belonged to Dressen, the man who was offering the shining million kruge job.

A man approached the gate to see who the visitors were “Who are you?” he asked

“We’re here to see Dreesen” Kaz answered

He looked at the group confused “you’re not with Pekka’s crew”

“And you’re no longer in Pekka’s pocket if you don’t owe him” Kaz threw a bag of coins in between the bars of the gate, the man caught the bag and looked at it.

The gates then opened and they were allowed in “Hey! One of these has a hole in it!”

“Inside, now” Kaz said ushering the group into the building

They were brought into an office where Dressen was sitting. Kaz knew that they would have the upper hand, being first to have what Dressen wanted was key to securing the job. They needed this, it would be a big deal for the Crows to be able to get this kind of money. Dreesen looked them all over and already had an idea about the people who were standing in front of him.

“Criminals, it only takes one look” he eyes them a bit more before returning to the papers on his desk “I am not meeting with anyone until midnight so you are just wasting your time”

“We have the Heartrender that you requested” Kaz said

Dressen sighed and took a moment to think “Well.. alright, she stays and the rest of you can wait here” he said getting up from his chair and walking around his desk

The heartrender went to walk forward but Kaz stopped her with his cane “No, she stays and we have an exclusive on the job”

“Now Mr. Brekker. No businessman worth his salt hires his first applicants”

Kaz shrugged his shoulders “of course, I understand. It’s a big decision to make, just like the decision to report you to the guild for kidnapping and harboring a prisoner chain of title” he smirked a little, showing off his confidence, Kaz was the one with the upper hand in their little exchange

Dreesen glared at Kaz “you wouldn’t dare”

“No businessman worth his salt bargains for what he can take” Kaz answered

The Heartrender raised her hand “I have to be back in an hour”

“Alright, come on”

Dressen brought them down to where he was keeping the hostage, he walked up to him and turned to face the crew. Kaz went from looking around the room then back to where Dressen was standing.

“This is Alexi Stepanov” he pulled the bag off of his head to reveal his face “two weeks ago Alexei here crossed the Fold on foot, he was alone”

Inej was shocked “how?” she saw that the man was mouthing the word ‘water’ and she got him a glass for him to drink

“They’re keeping it quiet, but allegedly he was one of a few witnesses to an event..”

“What kind of event?” Kaz asked

“I know an expedition was swarmed by Volcra, it should have been a total loss, but something happened.. Right now the running theory over here is that it was a new device, one only for the worst case scenarios, but something is different about what was seen. It lit up the Fold like a forest fire. However, whatever destroyed the swarming Volcra was not a device with fire, because it would have killed everyone on that skiff. It had to have been some sort of new invention no one has seen before. This man is the answer, he hasn’t been able to speak, some sort of trauma lapse” Dreesen explained

The Heartrender approached Alexei and knelt down then started to slow down his heart beat to calm him down “you are safe now, speak and I will just listen” she smiled gently at him “tell me what happened in the Fold, what saved you?”

Alexei took in a deep breath, feeling his heart coming down to a steady pace “If I tell you, will you set me free?”

Dreesen nodded “you are in Ketterdam now, you can go anywhere in the world from here, just imagine”

“Her name is.. Anna Mizeloph, she is the Sun Summoner” Alexei said, not realizing the gates he had just opened

Kaz’s world froze, the same name of the girl with white hair he thought of every day was at the center of a myth, the Sun Summoner. So many questions were running through his mind about her and what had led her to that skiff where she had somehow demonstrated that she was the mythical Sun Summoner. He couldn’t piece together what could have happened to get her away from Ketterdam to the other side of the Fold. Kaz did understand that they had been separated as children and hoped that one day they would find each other. After he had fought tooth and nail to survive from the killer ocean in order to get back to her, she had just up and disappeared. He was always confused about how a girl with white hair would be difficult to find, but it was like she had never existed. As he was dealing with his trauma Kaz was working day and night to find Anna, but he could never find a lead that could get him something. For a while Kaz held onto those memories with Anna, they were the only way he could get through his trauma. However, those memories could not always protect Kaz forever, he had to eventually become a new person, someone who could thrive in Ketterdam, not just survive. Kaz Brekker, the Bastard of the Barrel had been shaped by his hardships in Ketterdam and he clawed his way to where he was now. Today, one thing that had always held him back was Anna Mizeloph even if he didn’t know it, if they ever found each other he questioned what she would think of him and how he had changed. In the end Anna Mizeloph was the last piece of Kaz Rietveld and he tried to let go, but Kaz never could.

Jesper and Inej knew they would want to talk with Kaz later about how he had reacted to Anna Mizelophs name. They had never seen him react so quickly just to hide it, there was something more to this and they were going to find out.

Dreesen smiled and checked the manifest “perfect” Alexei smiled “you will set me free now?” he was ready to see the world and erase the horrors of the Fold from his mind

“Thank you, of course” Dreesen then pulled out a gun and shot Alexei in the head, his body dropping to the floor, the heartrender screamed, shocked by what had just happened.

“We are now the only people west of the Fold who know this information, my ship sails for West Ravka at dawn. If you can prove that you have a way through the Fold and back, I will put you on that ship with an advance. If you don’t, I might consider giving the job to Pekaa Rollins”

“Give me a day” Kaz bargained

“You have until sunrise, then your ship will have sailed, Mr Brekker. The prize is one million kruge. Now, bring me Anna Mizeloph” Dreesens men showed them out

When they were finally back to the three of them Inej decided she would step up and ask first about Kaz's reaction “when that man said Anna Mizeloph, the look on your face.. I have never seen you react like that, you knew her didn’t you?”

Kaz looked at Inej wondering if he should indulge her question “I knew one girl named Anna Mizeloph, but she has been gone for a very long time...”

Jesper gave Kaz a look “I mean, how rare is the last name Mizeloph?”

“She is the only one I have ever known to have that last name, so it might be her.. If it is, then we have an advantage over the competition, especially if we are going to be competing with Pekka Rollins” Kaz knew that this would be the chance for his past to finally be useful

“You would really use your past with Anna Mizeloph to put her into a false sense of security?” Inej asked slightly shocked, she knew that Kaz could be a bit harsh especially when it came to the possibility of a lot of money and beating Pekka Rollins, but she did not think he would go this far to emotionally manipulate Anna if he needed to

“For a million kruge, yes” Kaz said and walked off thinking about how we would find them a way through the Fold, there and back.

-

Author Note - I am extremely happy that others are enjoying this story and the comments left on chapter 1 warmed my heart! Thank you so much for everyone who left a comment, I had no idea that would happen even when I asked. Again, it is completely up to you if you would like to leave a comment, but know that I enjoy reading them. Also I really hope that this is a decent introduction to Kazans Brekker and him finding out. Also! If you would like to be added to the tag list please comment and let me know so I can add you, I will try my best to remember everyone!

Thank you so much for all of your guys support!

Tag List - @rika90 @itsemy01 @hotleaf-juice @teatimeforusreaders

[x0401x]

Violet Evergarden Movie Summary

The initial plan was to make this a short bullet-point thing, but I felt like there was too much to clarify and I had no choice but use novel references to explain certain parts, so I decided to just write a normal summary. Many thanks before-hand to my friend Yuuki, who gave me all this info.

Apologies for taking relatively long with this thing. Not even I expected that I would end up writing this much. Buckle up for the ride, ‘cause it won’t be fun.

Nope, not kidding. It really won’t.

First thing I need to make clear is: this movie is one and a half hour long and divided into three parts and two different timelines: the times when Violet existed and the times after she dies. Already in the beginning of the movie, Violet is dead.

Yes, you read this right. She’s dead.

Now, I don’t mean that she’s dead in the literal sense. This is 60 years in the future. She might be alive or not, but it’s never said. However, the timeline of 60 years later is considered an era without Violet, apparently because she has retired and her “legend” is over, so to say. It’s also a time where Auto-Memories Dolls don’t exist. That’s one good punch in the face. Let’s keep counting.

The movie is sort of like a tale being read by someone else, which at some point goes into Violet’s first-person POV. The whole thing is kind of a look back on Violet’s life tragectory and how it took a new turn when she decided to continue looking for Gil despite all the mess of the TV series.

The era where Violet exists is an era where telephones are being introduced to the people, so Auto-Memories Dolls are starting to become unnecessary. I would argue that the creation of the telephone isn’t enough for an entire occupation to start disappearing so quickly, since new inventions are normally extremely expensive and not everyone has access to them (or even knows about their existence) so immediately after their conception. Realistically speaking, ghostwriters would still be important as long as there were still so many people unable to buy phones. Not to mention that this is a steampunk world where compulsory education doesn’t seem to be a thing yet, so even in the off chance that everybody can buy a phone, there would still be a lot of people who can’t read or write on their own. But all of this clearly went over the animators’ heads, so not only ghostwriters but also the mail business in general are nearing their doom in the movie.

The one looking back on Violet’s life was Ann, who was telling it all to her granddaughter, Daisy (who, by the way, is voiced by Morohoshi Sumire, the same girl who voiced the seven-year-old Ann). Ann had kept all the letters that Violet ghostwrote for her mother, as well as the newspapers about the CH Postal Company. Looks like the article was printed after Violet left CH, since she isn’t in the picture with everyone else.

In this era, CH’s main office has been turned into a museum. Nerine is shown working in it. Of course, she’s a grandma by then. Speaking of the CH personnel, Erica also quit being an Auto-Memories Doll and became a playwright like Oscar. She appears in the newspaper, though, so she probably a while left after Violet did. Taylor also appears there.

Back to Daisy, she was writing a letter to her parents, in order to learn how to properly convey feelings with written word. The message of this scene seems to be that, no matter the tools, what’s important is that we convey our feelings to the people we love.

As we see in the trailer, Gil’s mom has passed and Violet runs into Dietfried when visiting her grave on the anniversary of her death. To anyone who is wondering: yeah, Gil never went to see his mother and she died thinking that he was dead.

Nobody knew that Gil was alive. Not his mother, not Dietfried, not the Evergardens and not even Hodgins. No one.

Here’s what happened to Gil in the anime: he survived the incident at Intense, of course, but got separated from Violet in that explosion. His tag miraculously stayed on the same spot, though, as we saw in the TV series. Now, since this isn’t explained in the anime at all, I have to make it clear: the tag is that necklace the soldiers wear. It contains their names and ranks, so that their bodies can be identified even when they’re irrecognizable. Without the tag, the people who rescued Gil had no idea who he was, so he was sent to a different place to get treated. He ended up at a monastery hospital instead of the one in Enchaîné. I would debate that his uniform alone is enough to identify him as someone from the Leidenschaftlich Army, or maybe they could’ve just asked him which troop he belonged to after he woke up and relocated him to where his fellow men were, but who even cares about all these plot holes anymore? Definitely not me.

Anyway. After Gil was discharged, he ran the fuck away. Like, literally.

If anyone out there was hoping that Gil would finally have his moment to shine as the self-sacrificing, thoughtful and ridiculously kindhearted character that he is in the novel, I have bad news for you. What we had here was even worse than it being Gil’s excuse movie. It’s like the whole thing was made to drag his character so deep through the mud that he’ll never be able to get up again. There’s pretty much nothing in this one and a half hour that actually justifies what he did to Violet. I’ll elaborate on this as we go on.

Anime!Gil became a nomad and went traveling. He offed his ass to the island where that lighthouse displayed in the most recent official art is located (that’s why Gil and Violet were at the beach on the movie poster). He doesn’t have a prosthetic in the anime because, apparently, he was more worried about disappearing as fast as possible to somewhere he would never be found, and never attempted to contact anybody. So nobody knew that he was alive, hence the grave, which, as we feared, was not a fake one. His family really did think he had died.

This is a point that I have already addressed before, but that also means Gil really did abandon Violet to luck. If anything dangerous ever happened to her (as it did, and it was always very obviously likely to happen, since she was the southern army’s most outstanding soldier and quite literally fled from the military), he wouldn’t even know. If word ever got to him, it would probably be too late. And even if it weren’t, he wouldn’t be able to do anything to help her. More than allowing her to live freely, it felt like he was running away from his responsibilities regarding Violet.

Punch on the face count is currently at six.

By sheer coincidence, Violet learns that Gil is living in that island. She goes to see him and Hodgins goes with her after trying to stop her at first. When Gil finds out that they came to see him, he outright refuses to meet them. It pretty much takes the near entirety of the goddamn movie for them to see each other face-to-face. I say face-to-face because all of the following shit happens:

Hodgins goes to talk to Gil. It lasts about 20 minutes.

Gil talks to Violet from behind a door. This one is about 10 minutes.

Dietfried also comes to the island to talk to him. Also about 10 minutes.

At long fucking last, Gil goes to see Violet. But that, too, is only for about 10 minutes.

Hodgins gives him a speech very similar to what happens in chapter 8. Now get ready to fall back from your seats: Dietfried basically goes there to tell Gil that he won’t run away from taking over the family anymore, so Gil can live freely. Yes, Dietfried is officially a better Gilbert than Gilbert himself. I crave death.

So, after much ado, they come to a conclusion: Gil will stay in the island. In order to completely free himself of the shackles of his bloodline, he stays behind, living the way he wants to. ‘Cause all anime!Gil wants is to rot away alone by the sea, apparently. Now prepare yourselves, for it gets worse. Ready?

Violet stays with him in the motherfucking island.

That’s right, ladies and gents. Another fear became true. She quits her job at the CH Postal Company and goes to live with him. Well, at least, not as a housewife. She starts working with mail services in the island, and Gil helps her with it. Her life goes on like this and she dies in the island as well.

This is where the timeline after Violet passes away comes into light, parallel to the era when Violet was alive. Daisy talks about what happened after Violet left CH, as if it were a tale from the distant past.

That’s it.

The movie paints this as a happy ending. I can hardly see it as one. I know it almost looks like everything was solved, but it just got swept under the rug.

The main point that makes me sad in this ending is that Violet’s character development did a 360 degree flip. In the end, she threw everything to the air and went to live in someone who she always put before everyone else, even herself, but who didn’t do the same for her (in the anime). She’s gone to a crammed little island, where she led an uneventful life away from everyone and everything that’s ever had a positive impact on her. All she has is Gil.

Of course, he’s all she needs, but he isn’t all she should have, and that was the entire point of pushing her to go live on her own. Which is exactly what she earns in the novel: two loving parents, a father figure, a brother figure, a best friend and several other friends and acquaintances whom she formed a bond with. She has all she needs, so she doesn’t have to cling to Gil for any reason. There’s no emotional dependance on him anymore. She doesn’t need him to be whole. She just wants him because he happens to be the best person she’s ever met.

Anime!Violet is most definitely not whole. She almost got there, but then she backtracked completely. And anime!Gil... in my friend’s words, is a weakling. There’s nothing in him actually worth all this undying blind love. Sure, he’s full of regret and shit, but it’s too easy to only act upon it now, by vanishing into thin air like a coward.

The deal with novel!Gil is that he looks around at everything he has, everything that had been burdening him and killing him on the inside all his life, and decides to make use of it for Violet’s sake. He continues being family head and working in the army, amassing money and connections in order to have every means possible to protect Violet should anything happen to her. And as it turns out, he does end up having to use those means, more than once, but he will keep this up for as long as he needs to, because he lives for her now. That’s what makes him worth all the blood, sweat, tears, mental sanity and even body parts that she gave away for his sake: he pays it back. Every cent.

Punch in the face count ends at twelve. Thirteen if I include the fact that the movie ends with a last shot of Violet after she and Gilbert do a pinky swear. Looks like they were really trying to buy everyone with tears.

Oh, well.

I hope this has been a good enough summary. Sorry if I rained on anyone’s parade. I’m pretty sure we won’t get a remake ever, so I really wish we all can get over this soon.

[hawkinsschoolcounselor]

hello! hope all is well. i’m not sure if you’ve answered a question like this before, but i’m very curious to know your input. how would you change or alter the mileven storyline in a way to make it appealing and worth shipping?

Hello! I'm doing alright. I just got Skyward Sword HD, and I'm remembering just how much the motion controls frustrated me when it first came out.

I have to be honest and say I didn't expect a question like this to come my way. I would think my opinions on that relationship were rather well-known by now. Still, it seems a fair question, so I will do my best to respectfully answer. Bear with me here, because I'm going to have to criticize the relationship to set the stage for potentially fixing it.

In order to make Mileven work and be worth shipping, the Duffers would have to fix the relationship's major issues. What makes it so unappealing to me is how badly they interact together to the point that the only real thing they do together is make out. They lack the playful banter of Lucas and Max, who go on movie dates. They don't have the saccharine sweetness of Dustin and Suzie, who talk about science and sing together. Mike and El simply hide away and make out, and awkwardly, I might add, since Mike doesn't seem to want her hands on his face. I think one major reason for this is they simply don't know each other.

What casual and younger fans don't seem to realize is that Mike and El haven't really known each other very long. They met in November 1983, were separated for almost a year with Mike thinking she was dead, then reunited in November 1984. They were apart for longer than they interacted. During that time, Mike desperately wanted a sign that she was ok, feeling immense grief. This would make it very easy for an idealized version of her to take shape in his mind to sort of "fill in the gaps" of who she was. Remember when he told Will that she'd understand what he's going through? There's really little reason to think so given her limited social skills, but, in his mind, she would. To be fair, she'd probably get it, even back then, but she'd have trouble expressing it. For her part, El spent a year watching soap operas and peeking in on Mike. He became a sort of mythical figure for her, as well, and she was able to create a sort of storyline she expected to have with him once they reunited.

So the major issue I see with them is that they're dating each other, but are more into the versions they made up than the real person. El doesn't actually like what Mike does for fun (when he showed off his toys in season 1 or sang in season 3), and El just doesn't really have any interests at all. Mike's efforts to shut her away could possibly be an effort (likely subconsciously) to keep her from taking on a personality that would clash with how he sees her in his head. At the very least, he's terrible unable to balance this relationship with his others.

The first main step is that El needs to figure out who she is and what she likes. It was only in season 3 that she even dipped her toes into the waters. She had absolutely no clue as to how to even know what she liked to the point that she had to ask Max how she'd know. Max's advice to "try things on" is a pretty good idea when you have no idea where to start. Not Mike, not Hopper, her (with an unsaid "Not Brenner). She was literally doing that for the first time ever. I don't know if Mike definitely saw this as a threat to their relationship, but there's reason to believe he could have, and it'd further explain his hostility to Max. El figuring out what she liked might mean she realizes it doesn't include Mike. The problem is that this makes for an extremely unhealthy relationship.

If Mike were to encourage El to continue with this, not help, but step back and encourage, then I think it could be a way to salvage the relationship, in theory. If El is going to want to be with Mike, then it has to be because she figures herself out and decides that he, not the mythical figure she invented, is still someone who interests her. Mike, for his part, needs to be able to have a girlfriend while also spending time with his friends, especially when his girlfriend is also friends with them. He needs to feel that he actually likes her and wants her to be a part of his life instead of a treasure to be locked away.

I personally don't feel that this is a relationship will be saved, but I hope I explained how it could potentially work. Not tagging this in the Mileven tag since I don't think it would be taken very well, but I hope it came across as respectful as I intended it to be. It's not impossible for them to work, but it really feels like they're just not that into each other and would be better off as friends. At the very least, they don't know each other well enough yet to even know if they're that into each other.

[ideasaboutpokemon]

Note: I have no idea how tagging someone works on this app, but I’m trying :(

So, I was on Tumblr and I saw someone with the username @prismtowerprincess (they’re awesome btw, I recommend checking them out) and it gave me an idea:

The story of Rapunzel BUT make it Pokémon XY. More specifically, Diodeshipping (Clemont X Ash)

Let me explain.

Basically it’s a rewrite of the Disney film Tangled but in the Pokémon XY universe.

So for the plot, Clemont is the lost gym leader trapped in Prism Tower, locked off to all of Kalos (there are only 7 gym leaders of Kalos because the 8th one went missing as a child and therefore Prism Tower was put out of business) Clemont was kidnapped at the age of 1 and a half by Xerosic (on Lysander’s orders but we don’t know that yet) because he was somewhat prophesied to be some kind of genius that shaped the future of Kalos and Lysander didn’t want that prophecy coming true. Xerosic is manipulative through Clemont’s childhood and convinced him not to go outside, as Xerosic only enters through a window at the top of the tower. To get up, he asks Clemont to let down his HAIR [Handy And Indestructible Rope] which Clemont does ever day without fail. Whilst he accepts his life, Clemont is getting bored of the way his life is since he’s seemingly read every book, worked on every calculation, made every invention, etc. He wants to see the Pokémon made electric shower that happens to fall each year on the night of his birthday, but Xerosic won’t let him, telling Clemont in greatly exaggerated detail about the dangers of going. When Clemont asks Xerosic again on his 16th birthday, he snaps and yells at Clemont, who hides in his room out of fear. Xerosic leaves, and Clemont goes and sits in his closet like he does when he needs some alone time. Xerosic tells Clemont that he’ll get the him a new wrench for his birthday, and leaves to go to the mechanics shop.

Meanwhile Ash is on the run with Jessie and James, who don’t trust Ash but need him for their heists. Whilst Jessie and James like stealing unique Pokémon from Kalos and trading them for money, Ash prefers stealing gym badges. They just stole the only Mega Evolution Stone from Professor Sycamore’s lab, so the professor sends the Royal Kalos Defence Force to arrest them with the chase being led by a Pikachu, who is at first underestimated by Ash and his crew. But after witnessing first-hand the power of Pikachu’s thunderbolt, the trio end up separated with Ash having to fly solo. After complaining that the wanted poster messed up his nose, he spots Prism Tower, and comes to the conclusion that since it’s a gym, he can rob the gym leader there. And since Pikachu is hot on his tail, he has no choice but to climb up and hide. Clemont hears Ash enters the building, ventured out of the closet and knocks ash out with an old wrench, tying him to a chair with his HAIR in a panic. When Ash wakes up, he sees Clemont walking around the room looking highly anxious, and mockingly asks him questions like if he was a boy or a girl due to Clemont’s longer than average hair, referring to him as “Gender-bent Goldilocks” on occasion. Clemont demands to know who Ash is, and naively believes the wanted man when he says his name is “Tom-Ato” Ash asks for the stone back and Clemont says that he’ll return the stone if Ash takes him to see the electric shower. Ash reluctantly agrees, but secretly plans on betraying Clemont at the earliest opportunity. Ash gets Clemont to use his HAIR as a way of escaping the tower rather than letting Xerosic into it, but still, Clemont is terrified. Reluctantly, Ash carries Clemont to an isolated first as the blond haired man is too scared to walk on the floor since he’s never been outside before and when Clemont gets on the grass he runs around in an excited phase. He continually flips between a mood of joy and depression/fear of Xerosic’s response. Ash uses his guilt to try and force Clemont back to the castle, but Clemont refuses. However, he bumps into a Luxray and is scared easily. Whilst Ash is tempted to leave Clemont stuck up a tree he climbed to escape the playful Pokémon, he eventually gives in to his gut and goes to rescue Clem who proclaims his gratitude for “The Heroic Tom Ato” which makes Ash laugh. Clemont eventually grows to trust the Luxray, who joins them on their quest into the centre of Lumious City where the electricity event takes place.

Meanwhile, Xerosic asks Clemont to let down his HAIR, and when he doesn’t, Xerosic grows concerned. With Lysander’s orders to never let Clemont leave the tower ringing in his head, he runs up a hidden emergency staircase, breaks into the tower and is dismayed to see that Clemont isn’t there, as well as the stolen mega evolution stone laying in the closet floor. He pockets the stone and begins using a set of goggles to track Clemont’s footprints. After seeing another set of prints next to Clemont’s he lets out a panicked cry and chases after them, running into Jessie and James along the way. The duo are musing about the lost stone and Xerosic demands they tell him who stole the stone (and Clemont). They challenge him to a battle - if he wins, they tell him everything as well as help him, and if he looses, he gives them all his possessions. Xerosic agrees.

Ash takes Clemont to a pub in order to scare him back into the castle as the people inside all have reputation of somewhat dangerous trainers. When Ash and Clemont walk in, the entire pub turns on them and recognises Ash from the wanted posters. They close in on the duo, and as they’re backing up Ash tells Clemont that it’s not too late to “run back home.” This approach almost works until in a state of fear, Clemont asks some of the people closing in on him if they’ve ever had a dream to follow. One by one the “menaces” in the pub reveal their not-so scary dreams. Brock wants to be a doctor. Misty just wants to be better than her sisters. Tracy wants to be an artist. Serena and May just want to dance and Cilan wants to open up his own restaurant with his two brothers. Ash confessed his dream is to be seen as a champion and Clemont says his dream is to see the electric shower. Ash sees Jessie and James directing an unfamiliar man in a red lab coat (Xerosic) to where him and Clemont are, and panics. He grabs Clemont and they try to escape out of the back, where they are confronted by Pikachu and a squad of Dedennes. Cilan grabs Clemont and directs him and Ash to an underground tunnel that will get them out of there, which the two and Luxray run down before Jessie, James and Xerosic can get in. Unfortunately for them, Pikachu also manages to follow them through the tunnel. Xerosic walks in and demands to know where the tunnel went. One of the people in the pub - Alain - tells him against the wishes of Brock and Misty. Xerosic takes Jessie and James to beat Ash and Clemont to the exit.

Clemont and Ash are halfway down the tunnel when Ash hands Clemont a pokeball. Clemont asks what it is, and Ash revealed that it would be easier for them to travel if Luxray was inside the pokeball. Clemont bolds the pokeball out, Luxray bops it with his nose and is sucked into it, and caught. Clemont is panicking that Luxray disappeared, whilst Ash reassures him that Luxray is safe in the pokeball. As the two get near the exit of the tunnel, it ends up looking like more of a cave and a stone is knocked loose, causing the cave to start flooding. This results in the water blocking their light source and the exit is hidden from view. (I don’t entirely recall what happens in the film here so I’m sorry and this bit might seem a little random in terms of the rest of the plot) Clemont and Ash are at the point of nearly drowning when Ash tells Clemont he’s really Ash Ketchum from Pallet Town. Clemont then confesses to Ash that he always takes a few of his inventions with him, and pulls out his HAIR, which when turned on, somehow gives off a little bit of light. The duo realise they can use this to escape, and when they find the exit of the cave, Clemont asks Ash why he lied to him and Ash says it’s because “It was easy.” Pikachu then fires an electroball at Ash, but Clemont takes the hit for him. Pikachu stops attacking whilst Ash looks at Clemont’s injury, which is quite a minor one, and Clemont asks Pikachu to trust Ash just until he gets back to the tower after seeing the electric shower. Ash notes that since Jessie and James were trying to capture both of them, they’re probably enemies now. He blames the stone heist on them and Pikachu relents, joining them on the journey. He sits on Ash’s shoulder to make sure he doesn’t do anything illegal.

Night falls and Ash shows Clemont how to make a fire. When he goes to get more firewood with Pikachu, Xerosic emerges from the bushes and grabs Clemont by the arm. He attempts to drag the lost gym leader back to the tower but Clemont breaks free and yells that he trusts Ash entirely. Xerosic laughs and mocks Clemont, saying Ash would never be trustable as the only reason he tolerated Clemont in the first place. He then dares Clemont to put his trust in Ash and give him the stone to watch how fast Ash would leave him. Xerosic then tells Clemont that he’ll be keeping an eye on him, leaves Clemont with the stone alone in the woods near the fire and disappears. Meanwhile Ash is trying to collect more wood but Pikachu is giving him a hard time. Pikachu seems to question why Ash is doing this, to which the boy has no idea. He says that something in his gut is drawing him to Clemont, but passes it off as an “opportunity”. He tells Pikachu how he feels obliged to take care of Clemont and yet again, passes it off as an “opportunity”. He returns to see Clemont visibly shaken and rushes to comfort him. Clemont then shows Ash some calculations based on the fire he did, but didn’t know how he did them. This amazes Ash who tells Clemont that the science he just did was so amazing, causing the lost gym leader to blush. They basically chat and have joke fights like an old married couple for a while, but neither of them are aware of this due to Ash being dense and Clemont not knowing what love is. Meanwhile, Xerosic is watching from the bushes, plotting how to use this to his advantage. He watched from afar as Ash pulls Clemont into an embrace as they go to sleep under the stars.

The next morning, Clemont prods Ash awake due to being scared of the unknown Pokémon surrounding them. It turns out that it’s actually the Royal Kalos Defence Force to arrest Ash and now Clemont as well. Ash asks Pikachu to help fight them off, and Luxray helps Clemont. They fight off the Dedennes and run into the city where preparations for the festival are being made. Clemont is overexcited at the sight of all the machines and Ash actually walks down a whole street is pop-up stands without stealing anything for once! Telling Clemont that, he takes the lost gym leader’s hand and drags him to the middle of the festival where a man called the Blasekin mask is giving a speech about it being his lost son’s 16th birthday. Clemont tells Ash that it’s his 16th birthday too, which shocks Ash. He buys Clemont a slice of cake to celebrate and the duo spend the day playing in three streets with everyone else. Pikachu and Luxray bond as well, and Luxray asks Pikachu and not arrest Ash. Pikachu says he’ll consider it. Non of the other humans know what the two Pokémon are saying.

During the festival, Clemont starts to come out of his shell whilst Ash is also having fun, no longer thinking of the stone. Clemont meets a young girl who says her name is Bonnie, and she’s the sister of the lost gym leader. Clemont asks what the lost gym leader is, to which Bonnie remarks that he “must’ve been locked in a tower all your life if you haven’t heard of him.” unaware of the irony of that statement. She explains that due to a prophecy, her brother was abducted at the age of 1 and a bit, and taken away from his father. Bonnie then proceeds to explain that after her brother went missing, her mother started to grow ill from heartache. When she gave birth to Bonnie 8 years later, the stress of having a baby drained the life from her, and whilst Bonnie survived, her mother didn’t. Both Ash and Clemont are horrified by this revelation and Bonnie remarks that Clemont’s eyes look like hers. She gives Clemont the Lumiose gym badge and smiles at him. Her father then approaches them, tells her not to talk to strangers, and leads Bonnie away. Clemont starts to cry into Ash’s shoulder as Ash stands there looking shocked. Clemont apologises for his emotions and Ash tells him not to worry about it as everyone feels sad sometimes. To put him at piece, Ash takes Clemont to see the flowers that decorate the memorial of the lost gym leader’s mother, which had a stone with the engraving of “The future is now thanks to science.” Clemont says quote feels familiar to him but he can’t place where from, causing Ash to look at him in confusion. Brushing it aside, he drags Clemont all around town to see all the inventions, all of which intrigue Clemont.

On the night of the festival, Ash says that the best place to see the festival is on top of the Pokémon Centre, but Clemont is scared of the heights. Ash helps him up and they watch the electric shower together. In the climax of the shower, Ash leans in to kiss Clemont for a reason he can’t quite place, but before he can actually kiss him, he sees James and Jessie behind Clemont on a building roof across the street and pulls away to go and talk to them. Clemont then gives the stone to Ash, surprising the their greatly, and agrees to let Ash go. Whilst Ash is gone, Xerosic emerges from behind and tells Clemont to be wary of Ash’s motives. Clemont is confused by this but Xerosic merely says he’ll wait for him by the back entrance to the Pokémon Centre. Ash goes to talk to Jessie and James but is captured by them and tied up by an electric net. They take Pikachu and go, leaving Ash to call for help in a soundproof room.

After Xerosic leaves, Clemont is sat by himself on the roof when he’s grabbed by Jessie and James, who tell him he’ll make them a lot of profit. He pulls himself out of their grasp and runs outside and calls for Ash’s help, to which the duo tell him not to bother as Ash was the one who told them to kidnap him before taking the stone and leaving. They back a resistant Clemont into a corner whilst telling him in detail how Ash said he was pathetic but could be used for other purposes, therefore making him a good trade. Clemont breaks down into tears when hearing of Ash’s betrayal and as Jessie and James are about to knock him out, they are attacked by a Malamar. As they’re knocked out, Xerosic returns the Malamar to a pokeball he’s holding, walks out towards Clemont who rushes to embrace him, and yells him that he’s here so everything will be ok. He puts an arm around Clemont and explains that Ash pretended to love him just to get the stone, which breaks Clemont’s heart. Xerosic leads Clemont home whilst the Royal Kalos Defence Force arrest Ash as well as Jessie and James.

Laying awake in the tower, Clemont is looking at the Lumiose gym badge in sadness when Xerosic sits on his bed. Clemont asks Xerosic why he saved him since Clemont disobeyed direct orders and left. Xerosic tells Clemont that whilst he’s very disappointed in him and will most likely punish him later, he still lives Clemont as “That’s what family does.” Clemont questions how they can be related, to which Xerosic ignores him. Clemont wonders aloud where Ash is now, and to distract him, Xerosic pulls out some of Clemont’s old inventions to remind him that he doesn’t need Ash. Clemont looks closely at his inventions and realise that the Lumiose gym badge has been carved on all of them, like some kind of sign. Rushing to his closet, he pulls out his old notebook, the first page reading “The future is now thanks to science.” He confronts Xerosic about it, using the signs and quote to question why he even knows these things from years ago if he’s only learned about them today. Clemont then questions why he’s so good at inventing as Xerosic never taught him, and reflects on how he shares the lost gym leader’s mother’s eyes. He points out how there was a physical resemblance between him and Bonnie, and how the electric shower happens to fall every year on his birthday. He tells Xerosic that his birthday is the same as the lost gym leaders birthday, which sends Xerosic into a panic. Clemont tells Xerosic with no question that he is the lost gym leader, which Xerosic feebly denies. As Clemont starts to question why Xerosic wouldn’t tell him, Xerosic yells at Clemont that he will never leave the tower. Clemont says that Xerosic can’t stop him, at which Xerosic tells Clemont about lysandres “contingency plan” and proceeds to back Clemont up into a corner. He takes the pokeball containing Luxray and puts it in his pocket, causing Clemont to cry out in guilt et not being able to stop Xerosic taking his new friend. As Clemont is stood helpless, pinned in the corner by Xerosic, he pulls out a phone in front of Clemont and phones Lysander, saying half to Lysander and half to Clemont, “Director, it’s time for plan B.”

Meanwhile, Ash is sat in jail with Jessie and James, and he asks them how they could betray them. They say that Xerosic bribed them, and Ash leaves it at that. As Ash tries to break out, they muse about how they need a cool new duo name when a Meowth walks up to the cell and talks in the human language, shocking the three criminals. He says he heard from people within Lysandres organisation called Team Flare that they were using a new method of confining the lost gym leader to prism tower. Whilst Jessie and James are shocked that this Meowth knew where the lost gym leader was the entire time, Ash realised that Clemont is actually the lost gym leader, and that he’s in danger. He begs the Meowth to break them out, to which the Meowth replies “Back up’s outside.” As he breaks the cell open, all of Ash’s new friend from the pub help break him out. Pikachu jumps on Ash’s shoulder, and Ash realised that Pikachu got the people from the pub to come break him out! He thanks Pikachu, and together they rush off to prism tower to help Clemont escape from Xerosic.

When Ash gets to prism tower, he asks Clemont to let down his HAIR, which is lowered quickly. Ash climbs up the rope only to be met with the sight of Clemont in chains with a gag around his mouth, trying to tell Ash to flee. Xerosic creeps up behind Ash and stabs him with a dagger, causing Clemont to cry out in guilt and Ash to tell in pain as he falls to the ground. Xerosic tells Clemont that this is his fault and proceeds to drag him towards a secret trapdoor leading to an isolated basement that Clemont didn’t know about. Clemont is resisting this and eventually manages to get the gag to fall from his mouth and hang around his neck. He then tells Xerosic that he will never stop trying to get away unless he lets Clemont use his invention to save Ash. Xerosic reluctantly agrees and unchains Clemont, who frantically rushes to Ash’s aid whilst Xerosic watches from by the trapdoor. Ash asks what the invention does and Clemont explains quickly that is would patch up the wound. Ash then asks how much it can be used, to which Clemont replies “only once.” As the lost gym leader aims at Ash’s wound, Ash deliberately knocks the invention as Clemont pulls the trigger so that the invention fires at Xerosic instead, causing is body to freeze over in some kind of cocoon. As his face freezes over, the last this he addresses to Clemont is “What have you done?!” He drops Luxray’s pokeball causing the Pokémon to come out. Pikachu then runs up to him and with Luxray they both aim a powerful thunderbolt star Xerosic’s comatose from gyre, causing it to break into small pieces, effectively killing Xerosic. Clemont is too caught up sobbing into Ash’s chest to notice - he asks Ash why he sacrificed himself for him, to which Ash merely replies that “science is so amazing” As Clemont accepts that he’s going to loose Ash for good, he leans in to kiss Ash, to which Ash responds by putting his lips on Clemont’s. Suddenly, Clemont’s glasses light up and like he suddenly pulls out an old fabreze. Using different components from around the room, in less than 15 seconds, he manages to convert it to a “Heal my love-inator” and applies it to Ash’s stab wound. As the bleeding stops and the wound disappears, Clemont tells Ash that they need to get to a Pokémon center now. Ash says he feels fine, which surprises Clemont greatly. Ash asks Clemont how he knew how to do that to his invention. Clemont replies that honestly has no idea, and Ash kisses him again, causing Clemont to blush. He backs away, telling Ash that they can kiss after Ash is patched up by Nurse Joy. Ash says that he feels completely normal, and describes Clemont’s new invention as some kind of “super-duper max revive potion!” which causes Clemont to blush. Clemont reveals that he had no idea what he was doing, which amazes Ash even more. Clemont then goes to look at the remains of Xerosic, trying not to cry. Ash then takes Clemont and his HAIR, saying that he’s free to go and live his life now. Cutting the HAIR apart, Clemont says that he has no use for it and begs Ash to take him around the world because after being locked up for so long, he wants to know what he’s missed out on. Ash then says that there’s somewhere they need to go first.

Ash takes Clemont to the professor’s lab, at which Clemont is completely star-struck. Hearing the duo, Professor Sycamore emerges with Meyer and Bonnie in tow, to which Bonnie says hi to Ash and Clemont again. Professor Sycamore asks them who they are, and Ash merely replies with “So, I kinda stole your stone but I brought it back as well as someone else.” Clemont nervously approaches Meyer and holds out the Lumiose gym badge, saying quietly, “I think I’m your son.” Meyer looks down at him and simply responds with a hug, causing Clemont to blush and Ash to start crying quietly. Bonnie looks at Ash in confusion, and he just mutters “Shut up.” Professor Sycamore says that since the lost gym leader has been found, they can reopen prism tower since it’s been out of use since Clemont was taken as a baby. Clemont just looks at Ash and tells the room that he never wants to step foot in prism tower again, which is why he’ll build a replacement gym leader called Clembot. He also suggests that to celebrate the purpose for him meeting Ash, he makes mini electric showers for Pokémon like Pikachu and Luxray. Meyer explains that those Pokémon are called “electric types” to which Clemont says he wants to know everything about them. Taking his boyfriend by the arm, Ash says that there’s plenty of time for that, and tells Clemont to get ready for the world. As they leave, Professor Sycamore remarks that it’s the world that should get ready for Clemont. Bonnie asks Meyer, “What did the prophecy say again?”

As we see Clemont and Ash on their journey together, we hear the background narration of what the prophecy says, told by Meyer’s disembodied voice. He says that “On a dark summers night, all that is innocent and promising shall be lost. At the other side of the year after many have gone, it shall be found again. The nature of that which has been concealed shall rise to the occasion and bless Kalos with scientific discovery both great and little. A champion shall rise by his side, and together they shall take the world in electric storms, bringing knowledge and prosperity to wherever they go.”

The voiceover changes from Meyer’s voice to Lysander’s voice who closes a book containing the original written prophecy. Shaking his head, we see him walk around prism tower, kneeling by the remains of Xerosic as he sighs to himself. Standing up, he faces away from the camera and says to nobody in particular; “Oh Xerosic, your efforts still remain in vain. I suppose if you want anything done right, you have to do it yourself.”

The end.

That’s pretty much my idea. I wrote it on Notes so I apologise if the text format looks a little weird. I know the plot is a bit rough in some places but please bare with me: I am by no means a writer and merely had the idea in the heat of the moment when I saw the username. Thanks to @prismtowerprincess for the inspiration :) I know this idea probably sucks, but this is just an idea. Hopefully you like it :)