#<--- just in case. Gem does ask if they're fucking at one point.

[thedo0zyslider]

(woe. Fanfic snippet be upon ye)

Fwhip looked at the hallway he'd just been shown, curious at how empty all the bedrooms seemed to be. "Why doesn't anyone stay over there?" He asked, casting a quizzical look at Katherine. The sheep hybrid seemed to shift uncomfortably at the inquiry, but she answered him anyway. Even if she did avert her gaze as she did so.

"Jimmy sleeps on that wing," She explained slowly, an old kind of worry creeping into her tone. "He wants to be alone down there."

"We think he gets night terrors." Shrub adds, quieter than their friend is. "Sometimes there's screaming at night, from around his room.." A little sound comes out of the gnome as she finishes speaking, and Katherine places a gentle hand on her shoulder. Gem makes a noise of her own, and shares a glance with her brother. Fwhip says nothing, just sets his jaw in thought.

They say nothing more of the hallway for the rest of the tour, but it weighs heavy on the dragon hybrids mind for the rest of the day. He ends up picking a room on that hall, making some stupid, crappy joke about separating boys and girls. Like any of them have ever cared for that, and like the whole Wither Rose Alliance hadn't crashed in the same room once.

All he gets in response is troubled murmurs, and Gem's steady gaze on his back as he retreats into his bedroom for the foreseeable future. When Jimmy finds out, he does nothing but blink, frown rather deeply, then seemingly move on with his day.

_______________________

Not even two nights later, Fwhip is jolted awake by the sound of screaming. Jimmy’s screaming. The sound is horrible, tortuous, and sends the half dragon into panic mode as soon as he hears it.

Hurriedly, and without thinking, he's surging out of his bed. He throws the door open, not caring how loud the sound is, and prays Jimmy’s own bedroom door isn't locked.

After nearly running down the hall, and a frantic fight with the knob, the ginger manages to get his way into the cod's room. He thrusts the oak door open, right as the screaming seems to stop. And Fwhip is meet with a sobbing Jimmy, hunched over himself in bed, crying and hyperventilating like he'd never seen before.

Slowly, he takes a few steps further into the room. Even in the darkness, the ginger can see how Jimmy’s fins twitch. And how his head snaps in the general direction of the movement. Which means he should probably be as quiet as possible, and gentle as well. Not that he was planning on being anything but in this situation, even to the man who had once been his enemy.

"Jim?" He asks, staning hesitantly by the bedside. The nickname slips past his lips without a thought about it. "You there?"

"F-fwhip?" The cod’s voice is small, scared, and raw from all the use it just had. The half dragon can't help the pang of sympathy that pierces his heart upon hearing it.

"Yeah, yeah it's me. This is Fwhip." He places a tentative hand on the bed. "Are you okay?"

"I-I don't think so." The blonde chokes out. "Didn't mean to wake you up, sorry."

"No, no it's fine. Genuinely." Fwhip soothes without a second thought, his hand cautiously ghosting over the other's leg. He's uncertain if touch would help or make the situation worse, and he doesn't want to find out. Not unless Jimmy himself grabs for him. "Do you want me to stay?"

Those seem to be the magic words, somehow, as it what sets the cod into proper motion again. Without warning, the cod is grabbing him by the arm, and pulling him down for a hug. The ginger startles at that, but holds him back on instinct.

Before, he wouldn’t have dreamed of ever hugging this guy. But the explosion had done a lot of weird things to their relationship, so here he was, perfectly unbothered by this. Jimmy makes a strangled cry, one muffled by the half dragon's chest, and he holds the other back tighter. He holds him tighter than he thinks he's ever held anyone, even tighter than he had held his sister the day the world had ended.

They stay like that for heavens knows how long. It could've been a mere twenty minutes, or five long hours. All Fwhip knows is that he holds the blonde close to him the whole until, until his crying subsides and his breathing is even once more. He holds him and runs gentle fingers through messy hair, and whispers sweet nothing between sobs.

"Sorry for grabbing you." Jimmy mumbles. He's sat back now, no longer clutched in the half dragon's tight hold. Fwhip watches as he sniffles and rubs his eyes of any remaining wetness, and has to fight the urge to hold him again.

"It's fine. You needed it." The half dragon shrugs after a moment. He was warned about the nightmares the former Codfather gets, he knew what he was getting into when he took the room next door, and he is determined to get to the bottom of this. Especially since all of their other friends seem to be clueless in the matter, despite living with Jimmy for years.

Also, he would be a pretty big dickhead if he did nothing more to help. And he was trying not to be a dickhead anymore. So there was that.

"When did they start?" Fwhip asked it gently, and paid no mind to the other’s hesitation. He had been keeping this a secret for so long after all, like the stupid fool he tended to be.

Jimmy's words are accompanied by one too many shuddering breaths, so much so that the half dragon reaches out to hold his hand. "Those have been happening, since the explosion. " The cod's eyes were fixed on the wall as he spoke, looking like he was properly out of it. "I dream of it happening again, and you're there, and a lot of times your dead. And I have to watch it happen. I have to watch you die, Fwhip. And I can't do anything to stop it."

The blonde's voice cracks on the last words. Fwhip squeezes gus hand tighter, and doesn't stop as he keeps explainin. Though the explanation is more of a panicked rambling at this point. "Then I wake up and remember you're not dead, or that you hadn't died in the explosion."

Fwhip is stunned into silence for a few minutes, the horrfied kind really. But regardless he swallows nervously, and asks yet anoher question. And the answer, no, the shy admission he gets afterwards is nothing short of horrible. "How often do you have them?"

"Every night or so."

"Jimmy." The former Count hisses out the cod's name, but with a lot less venom than he used too. This time it was just filled with worry. Jimmy flinches regardless.

"I know I should've told someone, but I felt like I couldn't.." The cod mumbles, arms being placed out of his chest in what looks like habit. Another pang of sympathy pierces Fwhip's heart at the motion.

"Why?" He asks, poorly holding back a worried little sigh.

Jimmy's gaze flicks from the walls to the blankets, as he twists a part of the fabric in his fingers. Fwhip has to wonder what it feels like for the other, to be so strangely vulnerable, and wonders why the cod is doing it now. To him of all people, his once mortal enemy. "Dunno, some old fears about being weak or somethin'"

"Well, I know now. And I don't think you're weak." He says, the raw honesty leaking into his tone like a rushing river, like it rarely had before with the man in front of him. "I think your rather brave, for dealing with them every night like that."

"T-Thanks. Thank you." Jimmy stammers. He takes another deep breath, one mre futile attempt to regain his composure. It doesn't work, because he's far too shaken up at this point. So the cod is forced to bend and fold, and ask for the one thing he was most scared of. The one thing request he was scared of being declined.

"....Can you stay with me until morning?" He whispered, leaning closer on what seems to be instinct.

Fwhip didn’t think any part of him could possibly say no. "I can." He forced a gentle smile, and the cod’s eyes got all wide. Like a baby cow's.

"Until the sun comes up?" Jimmy asks. Like anyone in their right mind would leave him after such a nightmare.

"At least until the sun comes up." The half dragon confirms, and says nothing when the cod is in his arms again, still shaking and taking shuddering breaths. He says nothing, and holds him till sun comes up.

_______________________

A few nights later, Fwhip is back in Jimmy’s bedroom again. He’s clutching the cod to his chest, running gentle fingers through his messed up hair. Sobs wrack his friends whole body, and Fwhip can do nothing but hold him and mutter sweet nothings until it's over.

His panic is shorter than the previous one it seems. Maybe the nightmares had been slightly kinder that night, maybe it because he's here. He doesn't know the reason, and doesn't really care too. As long as his friend calms down, he is happy.

"Sorry, about that." The cod mumbles once it's over, his voice still raw and ragged from his sobs and earlier screams.

"You gotta stop apologizing for these." Fwhip sighs, and holds the blonde closer. Jimmy just sniffles, and buries himself further into the half dragon's warmth.

"I hate this. I hate having these so much." The cod complains, his arms once again holding the former Count’s waist.

"We could share a bed every night, if that helps?" Fwhio suggests, resting his chin atop the blonde's head. He's usually not very affectionate, not even in the slightest, but he lets himself go for Jimmy. He thinks his sister would be startled if she saw him so much as hold someone, let alone cuddle them. (And maybe it feels nice to let himself go. Maybe he's just a bit touched straved, not that Fwhip'll ever admit to that.

"I don't want to keep you up every night." Jimmy shook slightly his head in protest.

"I don't want to come running in here every night." Fwhip snorted, noticing that the other's breathing had finally calmed down. Good, that was good.

"Oh. Yeah. That's fair." Jimmy said, removing himself a little. He always did this when he'd calmed down enough. The cod would remove himself from Fwhip, like he was forcing the other to comfort him. Like Fwhip wasn’t the one to hug him first nine times out of ten.

"We'll just see how it comes, okay?" He smiled, pushing the blonde downwards. "Now try and sleep. You don't get enough of it."

"You don't either!" Jimmy let out a small huff of amusement, and took the half dragon down with him. Fwhip couldn’t hold back his own giggles as his head hit the soft bedsheets.

_______________________

Some time later, Fwhip wakes up with tear stains marking his cheeks. Great, that was great.

He let out a groan, and turns over in his bed. He presses his face until the coldness of his pillow, feeling his chest heave with left over sadness. The former Count hated crying in his sleep, really he did. It always gave him the worst feeling imaginable when it did happen.

After what feels like an eternity, there is the skund of his door opening. Curious despite his rather messed up state, Fwhip rolls over, and sees a very familiar man now standing in his roo. "Jim?" He asks, watching as the cod slowly approaches his bed. "Why're you in here?"

"I felt like I needed to." Jimmy shrugged, placing a head on the corner of the footboard.

The half dragon just huffed in reponse. "Well you don't. 'M fine." He can hear how his voice shakes, and knows that his words wouldn't have convinced anyone. Let alone this guy infront of him.

"Oh, Fwhip." Jimmy says delicately, and crouches on the bed next to him. Oh how the tables turn.

"What wrong?" The cod asks, and Fwhip decides he should probably sit up for this.

"Had a dream." Is all he mutters at first, a little reluctant to recall it.

"A bad one?" The blonde asks, shifting closer just in case. The half dragon shakes his head in response.

"No..."

'Fwhip, what was it?" Jimmy pushed again, in a tone that sounds like Gem’s serious one. And the ginger knows he cannot weave his way out of answering anymore.

"I....I dreamed I was flying again." He admits, and cannot look ag his friend when he does so. There is something like shame in him, shame for not being able to do that. Old shame, for causing that for himself, shame for causing the world to end.

He can feel the way the cod dimply blinks in repsonse, and wonders why his tone had turned soft so sharply. "Oh."

"Sorry, I just...." Fwhip sighed, and shifted so he could bury his head in his knees. He wasn't going to cry again, he wasn't. Not in front of Jimmy. It's supposed to be the other way around, not like this.

What the cod says next surpises him entirely, though in hindsight, the half dragon doesn't know why he hadn't considered if before. "No, I get it. I miss swimming sometimes."

He shoots his head up in suprise, meeting the others soft brown gaze. "Can you not..?" He tries not to glance at Jimmy’s tail as he speaks. Keyword tries, it doesn't really work. Though the blonde doesn't seem to mind in the slightest, considering his own people have probably given him weirder looks. (Well, what's left of fhem anyways)

"No, I'm missing one tail fin, and half of the other. And the nerves are messed up as well." Jimmy explained. He changed positions, so Fwhip could properly seem the now damaged limb. And well, he'd never really looked at Jimmy’s tail before. He'd known what if had looked like originally, and had caught glimpses of it since he can back, buy never had the ginger really sat there and inspected it.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He reaches out a hesitant hand to touch it, to ghost over the scarred flesh, and Jimmy lets him.

Jimmy just give a shrug in response. "It's fine, I'm getting used to it. What about your wings? If you don't mind me asking?" And well, Fwhip doesn't really want to show them off, but Jimmy’s voice is just so kindly curious. And he had just showed him his tail.....

The half dragon sighs, and decides to just get it over with and show him. He spreads what remains of his limbs, and can't help but move his gaze downward in shame once more. "They're mostly gone. And my tail is messed up as well. I can still move it, but it doesn't do much for balance anymore."

Jimmy nods along as he speaks, and maybe the half dragon reliazes that this feels nice. Maybe it feels nice to finally be vulnerable with someone, when he hasn't let himself for months now. "I see. Mine doesn't help with balance like it used to either." A moment later, he adds something else quietly. "My arm's also permanently damaged."

"Oh?" He cocks his head to the side curious. In response, Jimmy moves his right arm, his dominant one (arguably the worst arm to injure forever), and the movement seems a little slow and delayed.

The cod looks at the scars ligning his skin, a frown working its way onto his face. Fwhip can't even imagine what memories must be going through his head at the moment. "Used it to shield myself from the blast. It has scars, and I can barely feel one part of it."

"I have scars too, everywhere basically. All explosion shaped." He offers, and knows the ones on his arms and face have been on display a decent amount. They make him like wearing his coat even more than he used too.

Despite the earlier frown, Jimmy cracks a smile. "We messed ourselves up real good, didn't we?"

"Heh, yeah." Fwhip can't help but laugh lightly at it.

Slowly, Jimmy reaches a hand to his battered wings. Fwhip is catious about it, but he lets him, because it's only fair to, really. He flinches back a moment later on near instinct, and hates the looks of guilt that flashes across Jimmy's face.

Okay then, he doesn't like people touching his wings. Not yet anyways. A new boundary discovered at the worst time ever.

He doesn't know how to make Jimmy feel not guilty, so he just flops onto his back in defeat. "I hate this. This sucks."

"I know, I know." Jimmy mumbles, and it feels like he's moved farther away. Fwhip wants him closer.

"I want to fly again. I miss flying." He complains, gaze fixed on the white and pink celling of House Blossoms castle. Katherine really liked pink, is what he found himself noting again. He'd stared at this ceiling far too many times than he was comfortable admitting too.

"Why didn't you tell me you had nightmares as well?" Jimmy's asks quietly. Fwhip just shrugs in response.

"Never thought to."

"Idiot." Jimmy says, but not without a hint of affection behind it. "I'm helping you with them from now on."

"Do you have to?" Fwhip groans with a pout, and feels a light flick against his arm. It doesn't hurt much, but he still playfully kicks the other in response. Jimmy holds back a laugh before he speaks again.

"Yes! You help with mine, I help with yours!" The blonde exclaims, and it feels like he's moved closer again. There is a tail somewhere near his legs, one that's not it's own, and it seems to be flicking with some sort of happy emotion.

"Fineee" Fwhip holds back a laugh, and flexes his damaged wings under him. Maybe missing these won't be so bad. Maybe it can be manageable, if this guy keeps trying to cheer him up that is.

_______________________

"Mind if I sleep here tonight?" Fwhip asks, standing in Jimmy’s doorway for what has to be the thousandth time. Be doesn't know what he looks like, but he assumes it's rather pathetic.

The cod shrugs, and moves the covers aside for him. "Nah. Get in."

He walks over quickly, and slides into the bed, the second he's laying down, arms are wrapping around him and holding him close. He must've looked really sad and pathetic, for Jimmy to do that without asking. But it's comforting, and helping his bad state of mind a little, so the former Count doesn't mind much.

It feels a little awkward sharing a bed when no crying has come before it, Fwhip has to admit. In his mind at least. But then Jimmy buries his face into the small of his back, and suddenly it's not very awkward anymore. Fwhip relaxes into it fully, and has to hold back a sigh. God he needed that. He's not sure why he needed to be held and cuddled so much, he just did.

At some point in the quiet, Fwhip turns over in Jimmy’s arms, so he can see the others face. This all feels so.....domestic. so intimate. With a man he used to hate and spit venom at, no less. He wonders when they got so comfortable with each other, to be all domestic like this. He wonders if it means something else, and finds that it doesn't. He wonders what their friends would say if they found out about all this. He wonders what Sausage would say, if he was here and seeing this.

The cod hums, having shifted their postion without the other noticing, and start to trace the scars that run up his arm. The scars he's been told stories about, the scars that they both helped form. Fwhip wonders if the other feels any guilt when he looks at them. Because he know he does whenever he catches a glimpse of Jimmy’s tail, or his own scars, or any of his torn fins and his permanently damaged right arm.

Suddenly, as if the cod can feel himself being stared at, he looks up. Their eyes meet, and the blonde frowns. "Stop thinking." He says, fingers still running over his skin.

"How do you know I'm thinking?" Fwhip asks, slightly amused. He wonders when they could start reading each other so well.

"Because you're looking at me all guilty like. Stop that and go to sleep." Jimmy sounds like such an expastered mother, the half dragon can't help but sigh and try to oblige.

"I'll try." He mumbles, and closes his eyes. Careful hands keep tracing over his scars, and maybe the sensation helps lull him to sleep. Maybe the sensation is becoming comforting, just a tad.

Maybe Jimmy is his comfort.

_______________________

"You two share a bed a lot, don't you?" Gem asked one morning, brewing herself a cup of coffee. She had grabbed a mug for him without even asking, because she just knew that he'd complain if she didn't. Even the way he liked his coffee was gross, or whatever she had been calling it.

"Yeah, and?" He asks, already starting to sound exasperated. His sister must have seen him exit Jimmy's room this morning, his clothes probably decently (and suspiciously) rumpled. And if Gem was asking, she'd probably seen it more than once already.

The wizard clears her throat a little awkwardly, and asks the worst question shes probably ever asked him. "Are you two...um...involved in any way? More than friends I mean-"

"I am not fucking Jimmy." Fwhip groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind before, and thinking about it now made him physically recoil. Not that the cod wasn't attractive or anything, their relationship had just never been like that. And would probably never be, as far as he was concerned.

"Good to know." Gem says over the sound of coffee being poured. Fwhip doesn't even care much about the drink anymore, just leaving this situation as soon as he can really.

"Physical touch helps him with the nightmares." He explains further, carefully leaving out the information that he had them sometimes as well. Though Gem had seen some of them, before they were found and all, but she would worry less if she believed they'd slowly stopped over time.

"Ohhh." A lightblub seems to go off in his sister's head, and she starts preparing his coffee how he likes it. Fwhip almost tells her there's no need too.

"And if I was, it'd be none of your buisness." He grumbles, and stands from the table. He can drink cold coffee later, when he's less annoyed. It was not a good morning to ask him that.

He hears Gem sigh, but she doesn't chase after him. Fwhip only hears the faint clinking of a mug against the table, right as he returns to his own bedroom.

_______________________

Fwhip crawls into Jimmy’s room one night, not even knocking before he opens the door. It's become quite a habit after all these months, a bad one as his twin would call it, but neither of them care much for her opinion on this specific thing anyways. (Because according to Gem, finding a counselor would do many more wonders, even if Fwhip’s pretty sure neither of them can sleep alone now. Night terrors or no night terrors.)

Jimmy is awake as soon as his door clicks shut, and greets him with a groggy hello. Fwhip says nothing, just sits down on the bed, and relaxes near instantly as familiar arms wrap around him. The half dragon melts into his friends warmth, and thinks he could finally fall asleep right then and there.

"What's wrong?" The cod mumbles, sleep stilling coating his voice. Fwhip says nothing for a moment, and buries his head into Jimmy's soft woolen t-shirt.

"Phantoms pains were bad today." He grumbled eventually. "And a bunch of other things, just felt like i was gonna have a nightmare."

"Mmm, I get it." Jimmy hummed. "Wanna lay down?"

"Please." Fwhip sighed, and let himself be pulled down. He laid half ontop of Jimmy, and nuzzling into his warmth had become habit by that point, it had become as natural as breathing.

"You comfortable?" The cod laughed, his breath ghosting over the others face. Fwhip just made a tired noise in response.

"Yes, you're very warm and comforting." He mumbled, and squeezed his eyes shut. The phantom pains from earlier were still there, but focusing on the cod's breathing was helping keep his mind off it.

"Good, that's good." Jimmy said, and his night felt a lot more manageable than it had before. Not good, but more manageable, and that was more than enough for now.

[callmelyc]

Keith leaving Lance with engagement rings hidden in their home thinking "I'll ask him when I get back"

Only...Keith's mission goes wrong. So wrong that everyone thinks he's dead, and lance? Well, he finds those rings

At first he's heartbroken over them. The delicate but intricately carved bands with blue and red gems. How pretty they look on his hand, how pretty they'd have been on Keiths–its too much to think about at first.

Then, that sorrow burns itself into rage. The audacity this man had to leave such a thing behind so poorly hidden! To have left them here while he himself is no longer. It pisses Lance off for the longest, yet none will see him a second without both bands on a chain round his neck.

The thing is, Lance never actually stops looking for Keith. None of them do even when all the evidence points to the worst case scenario and all the Garrison believe he's gone as well as their allies.

So Lance gathers himself. He marches right into that damned ship–the Atlas– and he makes himself a spot right at the top of the food chain bc he'll be damned if he's too low to search for his stupid fiance. He didn't ask for a position, didn't apply, didn't let the earth team think for even a second they could talk down to him. Lance simply made his place known and very apparent from day one.

Shiro supported him full throttle, as did the rest of his team, Vera, Adam and Curtis. Which made it all the easier.

Now, did Lance tell them he was doing this just to find Keith? No, but only because they'd throw him back into grief counseling and that's not at all what he needs right now.

Little does Lance know it's not him that finds Keith...it's Keith that finds Lance. And he does so by landing the worst he's ever had into the barracks of the Atlas, throwing himself through the halls and right into the meeting Lance was 10seconds away from arguing in.

He's point two second away from opening his mouth before he's got an arm full of Keith squishing the living daylights out of him. Lance is shaking from the emotions that overwhelm him in that moment. Tears running down his face of their own free will, his hands tremor as they come up to clutch onto Keith like a lifeline.

And through everything is a rush of relief at the knowledge he's alive

Keith alive! He's alive he's alive he's alive.

And when Keith pulls back just enough to rest their foreheads together he's stopped in his tracks because Keith is apologizing a million miles a minute but all lance can focus on is the sound of his voice. All up until Keith says those two magical words

"Marry me..."

It comes out so hopelessly breathless, so hopeful, so dreadfully delicate and that rage from before fires back full force.

"How dare you?!" He grits out, stepping back to point his finger right into Keith's chest "you go missing and leave rings for me to find in our house!"

"I–"

"Then! You get pronounced dead, have us all grive for you and think you can come in here and ask me to marry you?"

"Lance, I–"

"And you have the audacity to think I'd say anything but yes? To think I didn't already consider you my fiance?! My dead fiance?!"

"What the fuck did you want me to say then?!"

Lance flails his hands "literally anything else!"

"Well?!"

"Well what?!"

"Your response dip shit! I never actually got to ask you it's not my fault you found the rings!"

"It's not my fault you hid them so poorly!" Lance snaps and now they're back to being chest to chest, centimeters apart "yes."

Keith's face consorts, confused, and lance laughs "yes you idiot, I'll marry you...."

The sighs of relief are short lived as Lance declared Keith has to ask in an actual way now "the proper way Keith! I deserve that much"

And from now on? Keith's trackers are updated. He will never go missing again if Lance has anything to say about it, he's got a husband to keep track of afterall.

[woodlaflababab]

hey! can i ask what your thoughts are on sokkaang? why do you ship them?:)

Oh my gosh. Okay, so funnily enough I literally gave a break down to someone yesterday. Sokkaang is my little rare pair gem that I hold close to my heart.

I did write this meta, but that doesn't cover even half my thoughts.

I'll give you the short version first in case you don't want to read my full ramblings:

Sokka is Aang's biggest protector. Aang. The Avatar. Sokka is a nonbender but he don't give a shit bc Aang still needs and deserves protection.

Aang is the biggest believer in Sokka. He thinks all his ideas are genuis, and unironically uses the stupid names he comes up with. He also brings fun to Sokka.

They're smart and wise seperately, but idiots together and I love that. I just think they'd make fantastic partners in all things.

Long Version:

So, I'm a sucker for protective tropes, right? And something that absolutely kills me about Sokka and Aang is that Sokka is a nonbender and Aang is literally the most powerful person on the planet, but it is Sokka who protects Aang. I've always been soft for Aang and more than anything I want good things for him. Too many people throw him at threats, too many people expect great things from him.

Sokka doesn't. He fights Hei Bai for Aang while everyone stands back. He realizes Aang needs them in the Bato episode. His plans to defeat the fire lord are always centered on helping Aang, giving Aang any advantage he can. At this point I'm just repeating my earlier meta BUT

Basically, when I realized this I was just like, "aw, cute friendship"

And then I remembered the fuckin "Toph writes a letter" plan. The two are fucking idiots together. It's hilarious that they affect eachother like this and it's not even like, unrealistic, because of what Aang does for Sokka.

Aang is Sokka's biggest supporter. He usually happily follows Sokka's ideas, he accepts the stupid names Sokka comes up with and uses them unironically. Aang belives Sokka to be a genuis, which means he doesn't question his ideas when they're stupid, he just trusts it's a genuis idea because of course it is, Sokka came up with it. And Sokka soaks that up like a sponge.

People talk about Aang bringing fun to Katara and like, 10/10 I love that, but I feel like it's not talked about as often just how much Sokka changes thanks to the brightness Aang brings. I'm paraphrasing someone elses meta here but I don't remember where I saw it but if you know it lmk, but Sokka literally goes from "You can't fight firebenders with fun" (to which Aang replies "You should try it sometime") to the finale where he gets rid of an entire crew by fucking around all amused at himself. He goes from the most sour character to the joke filled idiot we all know and love. I do believe a lot of that is thanks to Aang's influence.

So, yeah, cute friendship, blah blah, but then I was thinking about post-war them and I realized, despite zukaang being my favorite ship and loving kataang, there's no one I'd rather see travel around with Aang than Sokka. That's always been their dynamic, Aang with the purpose and Sokka with the maps and plans to get it done. I want Aang to be able to continue to rely on Sokka in tough spots, I want Sokka to continue experiencing the world and fun thanks to Aang.

I just don't see Sokka wanting to settle back down and take on the responsibility shoved onto him as a child. He fucking bloomed thanks to being on the road and getting true oppertunities to use his strengths and I want that for him.

And Aang is Not Good at the whole plans and stuff. Sokka is so good at filling the gaps in Aang's abilities and I don't want Aang to lose that. I don't want him to lose the person that says "I don't care if he's the avatar, I'm going to fight his battles with him." I feel like Aang would be lost in some ways without him.

Then I was thinking abt Aang's admiration and belief in Sokka and realized, it wouldn't take much to tip that into a crush, esp for Aang who falls so easily.

And Sokka, we have established, is attracted to people that could kick his ass without ever landing a blow. I can see Tall Aang being Sokka's surprise gay realization.

And I just think, if they were together romantically, it would be so drama free because it would be the epitome of a relationship built on friendship. They'd just be together. No bells or whistles. I feel liked they'd just be chill af about it. They'd love eachother and it'd be as simple as that.

Just, partners, in everything. I love them so much. I'm so alone in shipping this but I have so many sokkaang ideas and they will never not be dear to me. Also, tbh, it helps that Sokka is my favorite character after Aang ksndksnd

[blacktofade]

Gemtho (rpf) prompt: pregnancy scare

Another gemtho fill! Thank you for this A+ prompt!

--

Gem feels it the second Etho pulls out — she’s too wet, there’s something dripping from her that shouldn’t be.

She grunts, reaching between her legs, and maybe he thinks it’s what she always does after sex, but Etho doesn’t seem concerned. He leans down, stubble rough against her skin as he kisses at her jaw, her throat, still seeming to want more from her body.

“Etho,” she says, and he must pick up on her tone because he carefully pulls back and stares at her.

His face is pinked up from the exertion of fucking her and she wishes she could properly enjoy it.

But her heart's beating a million times a second, her stomach sinking like lead.

“The condom,” she says, watching as he finally shifts enough to look down, his expression morphing into concern.

“Fuck,” he says with feeling, and it's different from all the times he'd exhaled it against her skin, from between her legs.

She follows his gaze and she can't see the tear in the latex, but she can see where his come is dripping out against the inside of her thigh.

“Fuck,” he repeats. “Gem.”

She's not sure what she's meant to do about it, but he reaches down, thumbing at her folds as though to check, but there's no doubt about it.

The condom broke and he came inside of her.

He wipes his thumb on the sheets and meets her gaze, looking out of his depths.

“Taylor.”

Gem takes a breath and then another.

“I already said I'm not on birth control,” she points out. “That's why we had to use — ”

“They're not that old,” he interrupts, already moving, leaning closer to his nightstand as though to try to find the box the condom had been in.

Gem swallows, not feeling bolstered by his words.

She's seen his desk setup. She's seen his ten year old, works-just-fine keyboard.

“When did you buy them?” she asks, just to sate her curiosity, and his silence says enough.

He doesn't open the nightstand drawer, like he knows it won't help his case now, and he doesn't look over at her.

“It's been a little while since I brought someone home,” he admits quietly and Gem's panic lodges firmly in her throat.

“Months?” she asks. “Years?”

He doesn't answer, his body language shifting, closing off from her, and he moves away enough for her to draw her legs up, fold herself forward, and clutch at her knees like a lifeline.

When he pushes himself up off the bed, there's a long, horrible moment where she thinks he's going to leave her, but instead he disappears into his bathroom and she hears the telltale creak of the trash can lid, like he's maybe throwing the condom away.

The faucet turns on briefly — maybe washing his hands — but when he eventually emerges, his hairline is wet like he was actually splashing his face with water, needing to ground himself, clear his thoughts.

“I don't want kids,” he blurts from the doorway, and she wonders how many iterations he workshopped in the bathroom in under a minute, and if that's the best one he could think of.

It's a logical conclusion to this accident, she supposes, it's just not something she thought she'd ever hear him say.

She watches as he grabs a pair of boxers, pulling them on before curling his arms around his chest, a beacon of discomfort as he stares across at her.

“Okay,” she acknowledges. “I don’t want to be pregnant.”

His expression changes, something like surprise, as though he’d been expecting an argument from her and she’s just taken the wind out of his sails.

“You don’t?”

He says it so matter of factly that she’d probably laugh if not for the knot of anxiety in her chest.

“No,” she says. “Not all of your fangirls want to have your babies.”

That seems to get him.

He shifts, posture loosening. “That’s not — I’m sorry.”

He takes a step closer, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her, and after a moment, reaches out to set a hand on her foot. It’s not a cloying, sentimental touch and she appreciates it.

“Sorry,” he repeats and she nods, letting out a heavy breath before resting her hand over the top of his.

“Can you drive me to the pharmacy later?”

If they don’t want to do this, she needs to buy a morning-after option.

“Of course,” he agrees, squeezing her ankle gently. “We could pick up some lunch, too.”

She’s not feeling particularly hungry, but she nods because maybe she will.

“Maybe I’ll even buy you some new condoms.”

When she glances up at him, his expression is candid and it’s clear he can’t tell whether or not she’s joking. As a white flag, she lets the corner of her mouth curl up and his shoulders drop, relaxing just a little.

“Thought you’d ban me from being anywhere near you after this,” he says, and he laughs, but it sounds like it might be the truth.

His hand moves, smoothing up her shin, and her own hand follows after, feeling the need to keep touching him. She doesn’t hesitate when he shifts even closer.

He curls an arm around her waist, drawing her in, and she goes easily, tucking herself against him for the warmth, for the comfort.

He exhales quietly, pressing his face to the side of her head.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, yet again, and she brings a hand up, rubbing between his shoulders.

“It’s okay,” she promises, turning enough that she can kiss his shoulder. “Shit happens.”

It could probably be worse, she thinks. Despite it all, Etho’s a pretty safe bet.

She shuts her eyes and lets his presence ease her anxiety.

[susandsnell]

1, 6, 24 😉 xx

eeee, thank you so much ditty!!!! you're an absolute gem, hope this solstice thursday is treating you well!! <3

choose violence ask game 🔥

1. the character everyone gets wrong? pick a Batman Rogue. any rogue. literally any of them, and they will be Flanderized to hell and back over one to two traits they may not even have canonically possessed for two to three decades. I readily and wholeheartedly admit that this is not entirely the fault of fandom, and is at least partly owing to the broader problem with having long-running comics universes, because there is such a huge variance in characterization (and quality of said characterization thanks to the overabundance of edgelord and bigoted comics/comic media writers), in the gravity of their actions and where they land on the moral spectrum, and even in motivation that it is nigh impossible to even say what getting said character 'right' means unless the person is talking about a specific iteration (ex.: someone writing fic or making headcanons about specifically Paul Dano's Riddler from The Batman 2022, who has a very particular voice/ethos/motive distinct from your other Riddlers, though there are core shared traits). But of this bunch, i'd have to say my poor Ivy gets it the worst. I'm truly glad she's evolved beyond being just another Temptress of Men Who Hates Them But Also Needs Their Validation Through Constant Sex (although done right she's still a great femme fatale wasting their time and catfishing them for eco-terrorism purposes), and of course as a canon queer character she means the world to me, but as is the case with every popular female character, she's either Holding The Braincell (aka everyone's mom, and I don't mean in the kink way), or Irredeemable. A lot of this does arise from how poor the execution of modern canon Harlivy has been because of respectability politics, but reducing her to Snarky Husky Voiced Plant Lady Rolling Her Eyes At Harley's Antics, making her have her shit way too together (she's always sent to Arkham!), making her the one-sided babysitter/healer of Harley's problems (and by extension, the problems of any other woman), making her a snarky queer auntie to the Batkids (vomit, it's as cringe as the rest of mainstream Batfam fanon), making her have way too much emotional intelligence to the point of counselling others (she's not even one of the psychologist rogues!), having her whole existence revolve around Harley....it's exhausting. (And again, unfortunately something the writers are fucking up in canon constantly, too.)

Fandom as a whole is allergic to women having flaws that impact the narrative concretely without demonizing them for it (when the dudes doing the same and worse are adored and worshipped for it), doubly so if she's BIPOC or queer (because again, double the respectability politics), so they flatten out those flaws and it's like, is she even a villain anymore with her own motivations and ethos, or is she a big tiddy witch gf from a paywalled phone app dating sim? Let her be as complex and angry and jagged and hypocritical as the other male rogues, my god!! (Sidenote that I'm not against retooling characters' designs/presentations/tactics anew entirely for a new universe iteration, especially if it refreshes the narrative, so long as they're interesting and true to some spirit of the character. In other words, masc Ivy's are fine and more than welcome lol.)

6. Which ship fans are the most annoying?

Oh, you really want me to swing my bat at the hornet's nest with this one, huh? While the cheat answer for this is "all of them if you spend enough time in any given ship fandom", I'm the most frequently exhausted by migratory Good Girl Fixing Bad Boy fandom. Fuck it, I'll name names with periods. The Zutar.a/Reyl.o/Darkli.na/Dae.myra et cetera fandom. The ships themselves, I can take or leave (though my main gripe is frequently their execution is just boring). There's no moral objections on my part, to be clear. I'd be hypocritical to take that tack considering my own tastes in markedly more fucked-up shit and like, hello, I cut my teeth in Phantom of the Opera fandom since I was 12 and love gothic romances, so like, glass houses. My issue comes in where these types without fail are consistently smug about the potent feminism inherent to ships they specifically in fanon interpret in the most boring, gender essentialist, wattpad daddy-dom-size-difference kink ho-hum ways imaginable because...it makes them horny, and woman horny about traditional gender roles equals feminism somehow. If it stopped there, I'd've never developed such an animosity, but no no. They make arguments about how much more feminist it is than the (often canon) hero/heroine ships because Feminism Is When Woman Is Treated Like Property By The Man I Find Attractive. They act like cishet romances, usually between two white characters, is the most marginalized thing imaginable and whinge that artists/studios/creators are "too cowardly" to "include romance" if it doesn't go canon in the way they like, as if more marginalized romance stories aren't fighting tooth and nail just to get off the ground. And on that note, the bigotry I have witnessed firsthand in these circles is just appalling; this is a fandom-wide issue and certainly not exclusive to any one shipping community, but the amount of times I have seen them come off as just frothing at the mouth to be homophobic should a slash shipper not bend the knee to the Great Potent Feminism of their ships, and the amount of times the mask as come off is just. Whew. It's okay to just be horny. It really is. One does not have to make a Social Issue Thing about it.

24. Topic that brings up the most rancid discourse? Weird corollary to the above question, and kind of an overbroad answer so I apologize, but Appropriate Amount Of Condonation Versus Condemnation of both characters, and works of fiction as a whole. I feel like the purity culture discourse has gotten so toxic it's gone completely 0 or 100 "if you watch something where something bad happens You Yourself Are Guilty Of This Thing" or "nothing fictional has any impact whatsoever", when my take is a more nuanced idea of media normalizing and reinforcing certain biases, but also, it's not real lmao. If the work itself espouses certain troubling viewpoints it's unsurprising if the audience takes that on (ex: Frank Miller perpetuating racism and misogyny through his writings), but people are such whining babies about so much as glimpsing any kind of Problematic Media (especially miserable if you're a horror fan) that I understand how the knee-jerk defensiveness arose. On the other hand, the baby got thrown out with the bathwater, including by opportunistic bigots who want to shut down any and all critical discussion of social issues present in or surrounding their interests, lest it Spoil Their Fun (and to silence people over whom they're privileged), to the point that any critique from a moral standpoint is immediately branded as Purity Culture with no regard to nuance or the context of the perspective of the person making the critique. So for example, you have people who throw hissy fits about Catra from She-Ra getting a redemption arc and you have people who thoughtfully point out how the writing of certain tropes in a given work perpetuate transmisogyny, and they're all thrown in the same basket and it's exhausting. No space for nuance, you're either Pro or Anti, and to quote Sarah Z's excellent video on this issue, I for one am a tax-paying adult woman.

[song-of-the-rune]

Thinking about kaz and rikky and my fiance's character's soulscyhe

So for background -- the Soulscythe is a custom item a player character commissioned (ic, so player's idea, npc made it). You can socket a pre-treated soul gem into it. When you deal the killing blow to a creature with a soul, or any amount of a soul, you may choose to capture it into the soul gem. Roku (well, Go) had this made to hold a powerful fey who otherwise would have reformed. If it's full, you can choose to replace the creature in there, but that releases the last soul, so... you can see how that would be a problem. The character is fully aware of this choice -- they don't realize, due to some interference, that the thing asking is the thing they stored, but -- each time they kill something, there is a psychically asked question (which we jokingly call a popup window), "Would you like to release The Lady and capture <target>?" Kaz enhanced it so that, it's full, the wielder can borrow a bit of the captured soul's strength -- in this case, a spell the fey could innately cast.

The soulgem they used for this purpose, though, was infused with Go/Roku's life essence. This isn't the same as her soul; it's something she can grow back (and has), more like donating blood as opposed to an organ. Anyway, point being -- this was going to be Rikky's soulgem for attaining lichdom, and Go happened to respond to a vague, sketchy job listing at the mage's college for some quick cash. She realizes partway what this is and what it's for, and A) decides it's the perfect solution for her fey problem and B) is very much opposed to undead, so the party steals it. However, Rikky's already started binding the thing to himself -- hasn't transferred his soul, just binding it -- so there's some weirdness that the party's unaware of when they finally defeat this fey creature. (It is, in more ways than they realize, the thing connecting them to their current 'employer.')

Kaz has figured out the residual link, finally, and is gonna talk to them about it when they're back from their little adventure. We'll see how that goes; I'm looking forward to it ^w^

But if that was going to be Rikky's soulgem, you ask, how does he become a lich? Well, Kaz thought Iyo would want to be a lich and had started a soulgem for her. She became a psychic vampire instead, so Kaz has this spare lying around. Easy enough, right? Well, no, actually Rikky doesn't find out about this until it's much to late because he goes, you know what, fuck it. Kaz is unerringly loyalty toward me and would lie down and let me murder him if I asked. So I'm going to do that and jam my soul in there, and then I'm going to guilt him into doing the same in reverse. No life force transferral needed because it's all right there anyway. This plan goes over well enough, because the alternative for Kaz is essentially to kill Rikky, and he can't bring himself to do that. Rather than transfer his soul into Rikky, though, as Rikky did to him, he puts it in the spare gem, then hides the gem in Rikky's spine.

So anyway. I'm sure they know Rikky is a lich. I can't help myself. But I wonder which is a more dramatic reveal for the exact nature of things (though, it's up to the players whether either happens at all):

"With a final swing of Roku's blade, Rikkal's shrieking laughter finally stops. You hear Kaztik's knife clatter to the ground." "I close the popup window." "There is none." The players groan. It's a little cheap of me just to say he had another one, sure, but I can never resist making a lich, hehe, and they'll forgive me for it. They turn to Kaz, who -- unless anyone wants to continue combat? (I ask, knowing they're well-spent and would be much wiser to decline) -- runs to Rikkal's motionless corpse and weeps. They might invite him along, or they might be too angry. Regardless, right now, he's too angry to go with them -- but he'll calm down in time. They ask where the soulgem is. He says there is none. He's only lying by omission, but he's not a great liar, so maybe they catch on, maybe they don't. Maybe they look at the vertebra that Rikky wears as an amulet and check his spine for whatever replaced it. Kaz seems strangely calm about them taking it. Maybe they even destroy it, if Kaz can't convince them it's the wrong one -- and Rikky comes back. And back. And eventually, eventually, Kaz lets it slip that it's him. Because he's tired, and he's still angry about what happened. Just, if you haven't already, promise you'll destroy his, too.

"Would you like to release The Lady and capture Rikkal?" "What? I thought he killed Kaz." "He did." Everyone pauses. They just killed someone who didn't have a choice in the fight. It certainly explained why Kaz put up with all of Rikky's bullshit, though -- how do you get away from someone when you're the shell that stores their soul? And who knew what kind of control that gave over them. But there was no going back now -- Kaz was still undead, so no one in the party could bring him back. They can't release The Lady, either, as much as they might like to -- they'll have to take down Rikkal now, while they have the chance. They won't put their friend's death to waste. But... hey... why didn't it give the choice between Kaz or Rikky's soul? Or have two popups? That's an excellent question that I look forward to you figuring out.

[thunderheadfred]

🤚The Second Worst (Pt. 1/?)🤚

Part 2 of my Shigaraki Thesis Headcanons. HC's // The Second Worst: 1 - 2

The half-mad ghost of Shimura Tenko is in love with you, and your life is about to become a tragic wreck. -- AKA here's when I gave up on bullet points and went off the fuckin rails

I'm self-conscious about writing so much, so uhhhh, please be kind, hahaaa. This is rather long and involved. Are these still even HCs or just a self-indulgent AU outline? There are some mysteries we may never solve.

This is on AO3 now, if you prefer reading there. Anyway. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

You met Tenko before the League existed.

Believe it or not, there are a million ways it might have happened, but in the end: you were both bargain-binning in Akihabara.

You reached for a copy of a collectible bullet-hell cute-'em-up (near-mint! CIB!!!) and accidentally bonked hands with a complete stranger. He flinched about five million feet away from you. Ouch. You're just a nobody, quirkless and average, but you didn't think you were THAT repulsive.

(You're not. Hell, even if you were, this guy couldn't care less. He barely registers that you have a face.)

(Shigaraki is accustomed to getting in and out of this shop in seconds. He always comes in before anyone else and goes straight home. -- Is that really home? Is 'home' a real place? -- ANYWAY he's already pirated this shit, god, why does he even care? He doesn't need to be here. Father doesn't like it. Is that why he's here? Just to do something Father doesn't like? That's pathetic.)

He's had at least ten complete internal arguments with himself before he so much as looks at you.

You know in the tenth of a second he actually meets your eyes... this fucker is going to fight you to the death over this game.

- - - The death match ends in a draw. He was not expecting you to know the first fucking thing about this game. Nobody knows about it, even in Japan. Who the fuck do you even think you are? Oh, no, he's still taking it. But... maybe he can show you how to play it it. He'll give you a little taste, just to make you jealous. He's got his hoodie pulled down like he's going to commit an act of terrorism. What little you can see of his face looks twitchy and messed up. If you have any survival instincts at all, they're kicking in right about now. But... why not. You're not going anywhere with this dude unsupervised, so you suggest a crowded web cafe down the street. The cafe has the necessary console... but the retro gaming booth is laughably small. The TV is about four inches across and you end up having to practically sit in his lap. You were sure this guy was a nasty fucking creep, but he's................ only mostly terrible. Way too angry, for sure. Has no idea how to have a normal, friendly conversation. Inadvertently insults you every other sentence and seems to have a deep-seated persecution complex.

You'd prefer to be mad about the awful company, but... he's obviously deprived of human contact. When it's established that you two share a lot of media fixations, he calms down and starts treating you a little more like a human being. Or at least like a fellow elite.

Wherever he came from, he doesn't seem to want to go back. He keeps pushing you to play one more level, pretending he wants to beat your score. You feel kinda bad for him. You get the distinct feeling that his life is a disaster. He looks like he's never had a full night of sleep in his life. He trips your trigger hairs in that 'is he gonna follow me home?' kind of way, but... up close, he's a lot more depressing than scary. At the very least, you want to buy him a stupidly cute dessert. Just... as thanks. For letting you try out the game and stuff. It's not a big deal, so just pick a flavor, okay? The world isn't actually that awful, y'know.

It's not even that impressive... Definitely not a great cafe. But he takes practically a full hour to eat a single slice of strawberry cake.

When the hoodie comes down. He's all shriveled and dried out, like someone left him him in the desert to die. He chews on his peeling bottom lip and nervously scratches his neck. He doesn't thank you for the cake. Which is fine. It's not a big deal. Actually, you wish he would eat faster; you feel weirdly responsible for him now.

Under all that mess he's... gorgeous? His hair is stunning: a bright, gleaming silver that catches the light. His bone structure is flawless. If it weren't for all the scars and the misanthropic slouch, he'd look like a fairy fucking prince.

You were not prepared for that. In another life he could have been a model, the type of guy who would never even look at you. But something bad happened to him. Something... very bad. Do you even want to know? You have no idea how to ask. Has anyone ever been nice to him? It doesn't seem like it. Should YOU be nice to him? You sort of want to try. - - - This becomes a regular thing. This weird little secret. You should probably tell someone when you see him, just in case you don't come back one day, but you say nothing; how the hell would you explain why you want to see him so bad? You don't know his full name. Maybe he's on a watch list. When he gives you a long string of random numbers so you can schedule meet-ups (is THAT his e-mail, really?) he tells you to just... call him Tenko. Or whatever. It doesn't matter. (He sneaks out when Father is deep in his plots. As long as he comes home on time, it doesn't really matter where he goes, right?) He brings a different game every time. He has an insane collection. Where does he get the money for all this? You know he doesn't work. God, is it drugs? It's probably drugs. Wherever these hidden gems came from, he proudly shows them off to you, like he's never had an audience before. It's sort of cringe-inducing, the way he one-ups and rubs every little victory in your face, desperate for attention.

But at the same time, you are becoming too... something...to mind. Do you... like him? He's not funny, but he thinks you are. His mouth is huge when he laughs. He seems to hate everyone but you, and you've had to earn the distinction of being merely tolerable. Still, he gets really excited about random shit like the garage kit black market and haunted dolls and the price of weed on the dark web.

And... strawberry cake. The realization hits you both at the same time when the waitress brings one piece with two forks. God, what the fuck, are you... are you dating? Quick, think. You look forward to seeing him, and don't even mind sitting close to him anymore. Sometimes you push your leg up against him just to see if he'll still flinch away... and he doesn't.

You jealously notice the way he touches everything but you: with delicate precision, one finger at a time. His large, elegant hands always have a pinky up like he's aspiring for a fiefdom, and you wonder what his skin feels like. You go home and dwell on the way he plucks flowering weeds out of the pavement in front of the cafe. The way he stands rooted to the spot as you leave, just... looking at nothing, unsmiling.

You watch his lips too much, and not just because you want to buy him chapstick. You catch him gaping at you all the time. You thought he was just creepy like that, but maybe... Yeah. I guess you are dating him. Shit. - - - Okay, so, yeah. Bringing him back to your place was definitely a bad idea. You know you shouldn't trust him, even if he is... apparently... your boyfriend? Sort of? You still don't have his phone number. So. Um. What now? You order overpriced pizza and queue up a campy horror movie. What the fuck are you even doing. You don't really think he's going to murder you anymore, but... still. Is the suburban massacre scene gonna give him ideas? Turns out, no. He doesn't like gore, even when the blood is neon pink. He gets upset. Like, really upset. Shaky and green, like he might puke on you. He can't stop scratching that scaly spot on his neck.

Tenko, are you crying? Fucking hell, did you just trigger him? Of course he has a traumatic past, it's carved all over his face. You're so fucking stupid. You don't know how to make it right. You want to hug him, kiss him... anything. But he's never really touched you, and you're too afraid to push now. It ruins the whole night. He leaves without explaining anything. Doesn't even say goodbye. He just. Leaves. Maybe you'll never see him again. Maybe that's for the best. Your chest hurts. - - - He shows up at your door a few weeks later. You haven't heard from him since that disastrous movie night. You had pretty much accepted that you'd broken up with a boyfriend you never actually had. But no. Apparently not.

This time, he’s brought his own entertainment. He's holding a boxed set of some show you're not familiar with. You're distracted by these weird little half-gloves he's wearing, like a cyberpunk hacker. That's a new look, and even if it's a bit edgelord adjacent, he makes it look cool. You tell him as much. It's the first time you've let on how attractive you find him. He's wearing a tight black shirt with a deep, deep V-neck. That's distracting too.

He clears his slender throat and doesn't look at you.

You try to apologize for before, but he's acting like it never happened. What are you even talking about? Have you seen this OVA or not? Get out of the way and let him in already. You've watched three episodes now, but you still have no idea what this stupid anime is about. You can't pay attention to a single frame. All you can think about is how his arm has crept up behind your shoulders. A few inches more and he'll be holding you. Does he... want to hold you? You lean toward him so slowly your spine creaks. One molecule at a time. After a thousand years, your head slides nervously under his chin. His arm comes down, locking you in, fingers clutching your sleeve in a death grip. Even that snobby little pinky. His head tucks down into you hair. A sharp collarbone bites into your cheek. His heartbeat is hard, fast, and irregular. There's not a scrap of fat on him, and as you wrap your arm around his stomach, you think you see a twitch in his pants. Is that just you being desperate? Or... hopeful? This is really happening. --- Soon, you learn that Tenko is a clumsy kisser. It doesn't matter; the fact that he's kissing you at all is good enough for now. His lips are dry, but not half as dry as you expected. There's a slick of menthol helping things along; he's been using something medicated on his lips. Plus, his mouth tastes like he drank a gallon of mouthwash.

All this thrills you more than a little, because it means he came here wanting to impress you. Wanting you. Full stop. Underneath that minty sting is a strange, worrisome aftertaste, like something rotten. Your brain fires off an alarm. Stop kissing him. Right now. This thing will make you sick. But his hands nervously slide over your body... and you decide not to worry about it. Instead, you kiss him deeper. He makes a sweet, startled little noise. Your brain is a fucking liar. It occurs to you he's probably never done this before.

When you lace your fingers in his and try to pull one of his gloves off, he rips his hand away.

Don't. That’s the only explanation he gives.

No need to ask if it's a quirk thing or a trauma thing. Judging by how jittery he gets, it's probably both. You remember the way his hands almost float over objects without ever holding them. Maybe his touch is dangerous. Maybe that's why his face looks like that.

Maybe you should learn more about him before things go way too far...

No. It can't be that bad. Now that he's in your arms, everything frightening about him evaporates. He's vulnerable. He's alone. He's shaking a little. Has anyone else ever seen this side of him? You want to keep him all to yourself, just like this.

So what if he has to touch you with gloves on? You've heard of worse quirk-related inconveniences.

It's okay, Tenko. Do you want to keep going?

You put his hands back on you and wait for him to kiss you again. It doesn't take long.

---

You open his pants. He's long and thin, calloused even here. Every part of him feels untouched, unloved. You hold him tight and squeeze.

It doesn't seem to occur to him to please you in return. He looks afraid. Confused. You're sure you scared him earlier with the glove thing. Is this too much? No. He gasps and leans into you. The tiniest, broken please.

He cums in your hand right away, face buried in your shoulder, his eyes wet and hidden.

I have to go, he says. Over and over and over.

It's okay, Tenko.

You know he doesn't want to.

- - - - - (oops I wrote more)

[razrbladekiss]

Tyrants | Chapter Four - Peril

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

WARNINGS: Mentions of death, drug use, Tig being Tig. The usual SOA shit. Sorry Donna..

She always saw the beauty in darkness. The lugubrious belle that came alongside the moon and stars and whatever else lurked amidst the murk of nighttime.

Isla was cliche in that sense.

She was cliche in the sense that she adored watching the sun set, swallowed by the mountains and high-rise buildings as the evening fell and Charming was painted black.

And maybe it was mostly melancholic because of the horrors that swathed that small town, but it was still beautiful nonetheless.

She still liked to bask in the scenery, to discern the marvel of her home, from the highest point she could access. And, sometimes, she liked to take somebody along with her so she wasn't completely alone.

"Why'd you still come up here?" Ope asked, pulling himself onto the roof as she sat with her back to the wall--puffing on a cigarette.

"Because it's quiet." She was content, comfortable with her response. "And whenever I'm looking for Jax, or Gem, or my dad--or they're looking for me--this is where we're almost always found. Just people watching, or reminiscing, or having a few minutes to ourselves away from the chaos downstairs."

It wasn't an unknown safe space--Gemma had told her that JT and Clay would climb up there during the earliest days of the club--but it was special.

Jax, Opie, and Isla spent time up there as kids, too. Because they were bastards and were always running from their fathers--and den mother--and the roof of the clubhouse was their go-to.

She never really got out of that habit. She'd spend hours up there if she could, just watching as Charming bustled beneath her. And she liked that it was separate to the garage, but everyone knew where to find her if they needed her.

"It clears your head, being up here." She added. "I have got so much shit going on right now--between work, and my personal life--but coming up here is like a refreshment, I guess."

Opie understood what she meant because he was also seeking comfort in the night. Riding through dusk, spending time alone on his bike as he cruised the streets of his quaint town, relishing in the darkness because it was strangely comforting to him.

He liked to be alone. His thoughts were brutal and they seared his brain left and fucking right, but he liked his own company.

"Wish I thought about comin' up here when I was released from holding." The man chuckled, balancing a cigarette between his lips. "Stahl grilled the fuck outta me."

"She did?"

"Yeah. She really fuckin' did." He added, grunting as smoke blew from his nostrils. "Did she get you? I know she got Gemma."

"Nope, she didn't. I don't know why, though. She interrogated everyone else. Starting to feel a little left out."

Opie chuckled, smiling a bit. "Be glad. It's obvious that she's used to getting what she wants."

"And did you give it to her?"

"Fuck no." Isla smiled. Proud. "She can cross-examine me all she fuckin' wants—I'll never sell the club out."

"They know that, Ope."

"I know." Half confidently, he nodded. "Just—Stahl made me second guess it all, y'know?"

Nobody in Charming--aside from the PD--knew where that despicable bitch came from, and nobody cared to ask.

What they did know, though, was that she had her heart set on making that town a living fucking hell as she strived to eradicate the Sons of Anarchy by getting to its members.

She'd grilled everyone she could've. She cornered Gemma when she was out running errands, leaving the grocery store with a sour taste in her mouth when Teller told her where to fucking shove it.

Same went for Jax, and Clay, and Chibs, and Tig, and...Well, all of them told her to get fucked, actually.

None of them caved. None of them wanted to sell the club out because there was no reason to.

Well, there was a reason to, but no desire to.

There'd been murders. Three, to be specific. And one of them just happened to be a police officer--which was quite unlucky, but it wasn't awful.

They hated cops.

What they hated more, however, was the idea of getting caught by them. And Clay was. Somehow, anyway.

Piney's old "friend"--Nate Meineke--needed quality, albeit illegal, guns with no traceability to attack the convoy that was transporting one of his friends from point A to point B. And it went as swimmingly as possible...

Until June Stahl was put on the case and found that idiot's phone at the scene after dropping it mid-ambush.

Clay just happened to be the last person he had called. Which then caused the investigation to point toward Charming.

They all knew the Sons were guilty of supplying those weapons. Who else would it have been? They were known for running illegal firearms without batch numbers from a quaint Californian town whose name didn't quite fit its image.

It was blatant, though nobody gave it up.

But Stahl tried her damndest to get answers. And when she didn't, she targeted the member that she saw to be the most vulnerable--after a hit went wrong and he failed to cover his tracks--and Opie just happened to be that guy.

She questioned him for hours. She practically held the man captive in that little cell until he caved. But he didn't--and he wasn't going to, either.

He was loyal. That's one of the reasons why Jax wanted to patch him back in.

"Yeah, I know." Isla got to her feet when she heard Tig yelling for her downstairs. "But you're the strongest guy I know, Ope. I don't think Stahl, of all people, is gonna get to you."

He shrugged her off, flicking the butt of his cigarette to the gravelly ground of the roof.

Opie had changed. Not much, and it wasn't very apparent, but he'd changed. Chino had changed him, she thought.

He was still dedicated to his club, still in love with the reaper and the responsibility that came with the patch--but Opie Winston lacked that flicker of enthusiasm now.

"How does your dad feel about you being back at the table?"

"Said he's proud of me."

He was a man of very, very few words. But the tone that he took--the sheer relief twined into contentment--spoke a greater volume.

Piney would always support his son, feel a sense of gratification from his involvement in the club. And, of course, Ope felt grateful to be back--but it was different now.

He'd served time for his club. Donna consistently argued that they sold him out and that he was fucking stupid for running back into the arms of SAMCRO.

But it was his brotherhood. The Sons of Anarchy were his family--his lifeline. He was nothing if not blessed to be patched back in.

"And I guess that wife of yours isn't too happy about it?"

"How'd you reach that conclusion?"

"Well," she ignored that Tig was waiting for her, standing directly in front of him. "If she was genuinely thrilled about you being back here, she'd have been coming to Gemma's dinners, and spending more time at the clubhouse with us. But she isn't, and I'm starting to realize that she probably hates me now."

His head shook. "She doesn't hate you. It's just...It's just raw. Weird being back, I think."

"She didn't even have to leave. She knows that."

Donna did know that. But there was always something about Gemma. About the way she let things slide so often, how she felt that she had Clay so pussy whipped that he'd be at her every beck and call--but, really, that was redundant. Because Gemma let him get away with fucking murder.

Literally.

"Is she gonna be there tonight?

"Of course. She wouldn't miss Jax's son coming home." He got up, reaching for her hands. "Sorry that she's been so distant with you, Isla. But she's just been stressed out--money worries and the kids and stuff, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know."

Donna wasn't traditionally a worrier. But five years worth of finances, being a single mom, and fretting over her husband potentially not making it out of prison alive, just did that to a woman.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"I don't think so." Grateful for her offering, though recognizing how damn stubborn his wife was, he conceded. "Thanks, though."

"Anytime. And if you change your mind, or need me, you know where I am--"

"Isla!"

"He is getting on my last fucking nerve today." She groaned, flipping Tig off as she looked over the ledge. "I'm coming! Give me a minute!"

"I've given you plenty of minutes! Just get your ass down here!"

"Just go," Ope chuckled, leaning down to peck her cheek. "We can have this talk another time."

Isla turned back to him, frowning. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Go 'n talk to him--I'll see you tonight."

He was such a nice guy. So considerate, kind.

She loved him a lot.

The flouncy sundress rose to the middle of her thighs as she sauntered through the clubhouse, hearing Trager talking--rather conspicuously, though slightly muffled--to somebody on his cell.

"C'mon, Tiggy. Why'd you yell at me?"

He waved his hand to shut her up, gesturing for the blonde to follow him out of the clubhouse and toward his bike.

"Yeah, cool. K, brother--see 'ya later. Bye." He hung up and slid the phone into the pocket of his cut, swiveling to face Isla with a smile. "You ready?"

"For what?"

"The party?" Tig told her, watching confusion sweep over her face. "I'm taking you over 'cuz you want a drink and don't wanna drive home after? And that you're probably gonna end up heading home with Juice, or something--"

"Juice?"

"It always happens," he shrugged, pointing at the helmet he set out for her at the back of his bike. "We all head out, you get too drunk, you take a liking to Juicy, and you try to ride his dick."

"What?" Isla got herself situated behind him as he got on first, her arms wound around his waist. "That was one time. I've only slept with him once, and I told you it'd never happen again."

"And why is that?"

Her cheeks flushed red, the engine revving sending vibrations through her entire frame.

"Because he was too gentle." Tig's foot collided with the kickstand.

"And the little Catholic girl likes it rough."

She felt the solid gold crucifix burning a hole into her chest.

"Yes. I like it rough." He groaned, leaning into her. She swatted at his chest over his shoulder, laughing heartily. "Just take me to see the baby, dickhead."

The bike sped out of the lot and Isla was loving the thrill of being on two wheels. She'd always liked being stuck to the back of somebody's Harley--but she'd never own one herself.

Isla was like Gemma. She felt stable enough riding with somebody, but riding alone--being in control of the motorcycle--was fucking terrifying.

Jax and Opie had encouraged her to take a ride at one point, but it didn't end very well, and Chibs spent the best part of two hours trying to stitch his daughter back up whilst Gemma castigated the two imbeciles who thought it was even reminiscent of a good idea.

Weaving through traffic gracefully, freely, was appealing to her, however. But she wouldn't be caught dead--alone--on a fucking bike.

Plus, she quite enjoyed being taken places. Escorted by a member of the club. It was safe.

The wind whirred and whipped around them, and she wished she didn't make the effort with her hair tonight. It was ruined, tousled to within an inch of its life, and she dreaded the thought of having to brush the knots out in Jax's bathroom.

Still, commuting via Harley was a hell of a lot quicker and had a few more benefits than commuting via car.

But the looks that they got were piercing. Horrible. Mainly from Hale stationed beside his squad car, watching as Isla and Tig raced down the freeway.

"He likes you." He spoke over the roaring engine when he hit the first stop light all night. "He hates that you've never given him a chance--"

"He's a cop, and I'm the outlaw's daughter. I've been raised to hate his kind."

Tig nodded his approval, setting off once again when the light switched to green and all opposing traffic stood still.

At one strange point in time, David Hale had his sights set on Isla Telford. He was in love with her. Completely besotted.

And she never gave him a second glance because, for one, she wasn't interested. He hated that she was so close to Jax and Opie, but not him, and he wished that she'd push herself away from the bad guys to grow closer to the heroic law-enforcer.

But he was a control freak above everything else, and Isla was just a free-spirit. She was loyal to her friends and family but she didn't want to get tied down, and she didn't want to become friendly with a fucking cop.

The only cop she liked was crooked. And Unser was in a similar spot to her--a little too affiliated with SAMCRO, but not completely doted on. Though, they were both strangely essential fixtures, and Clay would've been lost without them.

"Juice is here." Tig taunted as he helped her off the bike, holding her hand when she stumbled over herself a little. "Try to keep those panties on."

"Can't make any promises, Tiger." Her growl was seductive, though he knew that she was fucking with him.

She'd given up rebuking his claims, instead feeding into them because, with Trager, she couldn't seem to win. He was sleazy, and she loved that back and forth.

What she loved more, though, was that he was comfortable. He was a strange man, and nobody really understood just where he came from, but Isla liked that she could make jokes of any kind around him. He was easy to get along with. Easy to love.

And, man, did she love Alex Trager.

"If you do fuck him, though, would you make a video?"

Isla stepped into Jax's front room, turning on her heels. "Who said that we haven't already got one?"

She chuckled and wandered into the party, leaving Tig with a few convoluted thoughts and even more raunchy questions.

"Fuck. Gemma taught her well." He grumbled under his breath, reaching for the beer in Half-Sack's hand.

He slumped on the couch, motioning for his usual lay to sit in his lap as he watched Juice fawn over his little blonde friend making conversation with some other random woman already.

"Yeah, totally..." she agreed with whatever the girl was saying, but her eyes were glued on Tara. Just floating around the party.

She felt bad that the doctor was alone. Despite all that she thought of her, being out of ones depth in such an intimidating setting wasn't very nice. And Isla was an empath.

"D'ya think anyone 'round here has any nail glue?"

"Gemma might." She smiled, pointing toward the kitchen.

Grateful that she managed to shake that one off, Isla weaved through the small conclave and sat beside Tara, offering a friendly face during a time of such discomfiture.

Her heart was aching, the sheer nervousness was palpable, and she knew that Tara felt the same way too.

But Isla just sucked it up. Because she wanted to talk to her, and had to be the one to initiate it.

"Thanks for coming." Her smile was wide, genuine.

She offered a beer to the brunette, hoping that she'd take it.

"Thanks for asking me here." Tara accepted it, glad that Isla remembered she wasn't particularly a wine girl like herself.

Christ. This is awkward.

"Trust me, you were the first person I asked to come tonight."

"How so?"

"Well," a little bit more comfortably, she faced her completely, "you've literally nursed Abel back to health. You've been there every step of the way. You've been the best surgeon. And, as much as I hate to say it, you helped Wendy so much, Tara. I'm really thankful for all that you've done for this family."

"It's my job." She tried to brush the comments off, but her heart definitely fluttered at the praise.

Isla never changed. She was still the sweetest soul, she thought.

"I know, but you've had it rough with this lot--with Gemma, I mean."

"She isn't anything I can't handle." Confidently, she asserted.

"I know, and I'm glad that you're able to stand your ground." Reluctant, a hand landed against Tara's palm.

She jolted a little bit, but softened into the embrace.

It was comfy, warm. Prosperous, perhaps, because it meant something. Tara not jerking away and leaving once Isla offered a friendly embrace, was promising.

They spoke about the baby for a little while, and shared a few laughs at Tig's expense. It was strange, really. To be talking to her ex-best friend was strange, but she'd missed it.

Donna joined the mix, too, and it was starting to feel like old times. Isla recognized that they'd never slip back into that routine, the dedication to one another that they'd known when they were kids--but it was nice.

The conversation stuttered and it wasn't able to flow as freely as what she might've liked, but it was a start.

To know that she had something resembling an acquaintanceship with two women she admired, was nice.

And Jax introducing his baby to his brand new home, to his extended family that were already so fucking dedicated to him, was just the most wonderful thing ever.

"What about a beer?" Clay joked, holding the bottle close to Abel. Jax laughed, though he shook his hand away. "What? Grandpa can't give him his first beer?"

"No, he can't."

"I'll take it, though. If you're offerin'." Chibs grabbed the Budweiser and twisted the cap with the leather grip of his glove.

He gestured to Isla, tipping it toward her. "Want some?"

"No, you're alright." She went back to her wine, smiling at that little bundle of happiness in Jax's arms, wondering how the hell he'd gotten to be in this position now.

But it was because of Tara. Her commitment, her talent, and sheer want to help that angel through the roughest patch that a baby could have possibly been thrust into.

How Gemma could still loathe that girl--after everything she did--was beyond her completely.

Tara was the unlikeliest hero in Abel's story.

"Why is it that every time I see you, your highlights get more chunky?" Gemma smiled at the comment, turning to see her favorite girl, flaunting the most beautiful smile.

She handed Isla the bottle of whatever wine Chibs could get this evening, unable to quit beaming at the thought of her grandson finally being at home. Where he belonged.

"I told you I'd do them for you, Gem."

"I know," she nodded, playing with a few strands of hair, "I was gonna ask you, but you've been a little distant this week--didn't wanna add to your workload, baby."

"That's super considerate of you. Are you alright?" Isla teased, holding a hand to Gemma's forehead.

She slapped it away with a laugh. "Fuck you. I'm always considerate."

"Sure you are. That's why Wendy is here, right?"

"No," her head shook, "she's here 'cuz this is her house. If I had it my way, she'd be out on her ass faster than what you could even say 'crank whore.'"

Isla wiped at her lips with the back of her hand, tipping her head toward the blonde in the living room.

"I thought you made sure she was gonna be here tonight?" Confused, she quizzed.

She was under the impression that Wendy was starting to grow on her. After she'd tried to kill her, of course.

"I did," Gem confirmed. "But only because I knew it'd be awkward between her and Tara."

Amazed, or maybe fucking horrified, Isla simply glared at her.

It should've been obvious to her--plain as day--that Gemma Teller doing a good thing was simply a bullshit facade, built in order to take away from the fact she wanted to do an inherently bad thing.

But Isla liked to see the good in people, so it wasn't. And that really was one of her mot fatal flaws.

"She thanked me for letting her stay, too."

"And what'd you say to her?" Almost as if she didn't want to know the answer, she asked.

Black nails danced along the rim of her wine glass as she leaned against the counter, watching everybody enjoy themselves as they bitched and moaned.

"That she's lucky to be alive."

"Jesus, Gem," her head shook disparagingly, disappointed perhaps.

But being surprised that the woman made a threatening comment toward Wendy, was just as stupid as being surprised at Tig for fucking another hooker during his free time.

"You've gotta keep her close, ma. She's the mother of your grandson, the woman your son did love at one point."

Ma. The word rolled off her tongue unintentionally most of the time, but she didn't hate it.

Gemma was the mother figure in her life--hell, she was the mother figure in a few of the Sons' lives--and it didn't feel weird using that around her. It was affectionate. She adored it.

"Jax never loved her," matter of fact, she retorted. "They got drunk together. They smoked dope together. They didn't love one another--"

"They got married." Isla reminded her. "They have a kid together. They have a lot of history."

"Just because they have history, doesn't mean they love one another. You've got history with him."

Her chuckle was throaty, almost a full-on splutter. "We have not got that same history--we're friends, Gem, you know that's different."

She supposed the blonde was right.

There was hell of a contrast between friends for life and friends with benefits--and Gemma knew that. She just didn't like that Jax gravitated toward Wendy when he'd always had Isla right there in front of him.

Though, she was more than aware that the pair didn't look at each other that way--she still lauded the thought of the two together.

"I still hate her."

"I know," Isla laughed at Gemma's irritability, sipping on her wine, enjoying the sight of everybody having a damn good time.

"She's checking into rehab, too."

"Really? Where?"

"Some place in Oakland, I think." Gemma added, smiling at Clay when he wandered over to the pair. "But you didn't hear that from me."

"You think she's gonna stick to it?"

"Couldn't tell 'ya." He answered for his wife, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Isla's cheek. "She's determined though, I'll give her that."

"Yeah?" His nod was optimistic--strange for Clay Morrow. "Well, I'm glad she's working on herself, anyway. She's got potential."

"You hate her."

"I know." She didn't refute the assertion. "But I'm still happy for her."

At least somebody is.

She wasn't lying. Wendy was a good girl, a woman tortured for no good reason. And she felt for her, she really did.

It'd been a shock, finding out that she was pregnant. But it wasn't like they weren't expecting it--what with the rate she and Jax were going at it.

From the start, Isla and Gemma were worried. She was notorious for her crank habit and the girls thought she was going to kill herself before she had the chance to see her son into the world.

And that almost happened, didn't it?

The doctors at St. Thomas were fucking miracle workers--Isla was on pins and needles waiting for a call to say that Wendy and Abel were okay.

But she tried not to dwell on that, now. They were both as healthy and Abel was as happy as he could've been, so Isla was content. She wasn't pleased, but she was comfortable with the way that things were going.

Tara, however.

"No!" She yelled, backing out of the nursery. "No, fuck you, Jax."

Juice stumbled backward when she nudged him out of the way, pulling her purse from the kitchen counter.

Isla and Gemma couldn't not stare.

"Tara, c'mon!" Jax called after her, but it was too late.

The front door had been slammed shut and the party came to a complete standstill. A thickening tension was shrouding the group, and things were only just starting to simmer.

"What was that all about?" The blonde asked Juice, leaning against the island.

She didn't want to prove Tig to be right but, after a few glasses of wine, Juan Carlos Ortiz was starting to pique her interests.

He swallowed thickly, watching Clay leave the room. "He said something about Wendy--wanting to keep whatever it is that he and Tara have going on the down low so it doesn't set her off, or something."

Makes sense.

"He has a point. She's doing really well lately." He continued. "Jax would hate to stunt her progress by shoving his relationship with Tara in her face."

Isla was rattled.

Jax hadn't talked to her in days, and she wasn't aware that so much had changed. She wasn't aware that he had established a relationship with Tara Knowles.

Again.

You know what they're like--like two fucking magnets or something. They always find a way back to one another.

She was too irritated to reside in that same room as Gemma, now. Knowing the conversation she'd initiate the second that Juice left was too fucking much. So she left first, instead.

The living room was almost empty. Just Clay, Bobby, Tig, and Chibs sat around the couches as Donna, the kids, and Ope were preparing to set off.

Everything was annoying her, now. She hadn't made the effort with Donna all night, but she was pissed that she hadn't started to say goodbye to her yet.

Isla was so fucking irritated that she didn't even want to talk to Tig, or her father. So she didn't.

"Where're you going, petal?" Chibs asked, hindering her plan to keep her mouth shut for the rest of the night. He knew that she'd crack a smile at the nickname.

"I was just wandering. Not really sure what to do with myself."

"Come sit down," he gestured to the space between himself and Tig, and wound an arm around her when she met the leather. "I've missed 'ya."

"Tonight? Or just in general."

"In general. It's been a few days, love."

"I know, I'm sorry." Her head rested against his Sgt. At Arms patch, and she sighed. "Work has been so fucking busy and I feel like I haven't gotten a moment to myself this week."

Isla only worked a part-time gig at some shitty salon just on the outskirts of Charming--edging into Stockton--but she hated her job.

She hated driving into the city every morning and evening, wasting a fuck ton of her paycheck on gas when, really, there was no point.

She hated her cunt boss.

Hated her cunt clients.

She hated that nobody really spoke to her because of who her father was. And when they did speak to her, it was almost like they were scared. Of Isla.

Gemma had always promised her that there was a space at the auto shop for her had she needed it, but she couldn't think of anything worse than having to answer to Gemma and Clay every single day.

Well, more than what she already was, anyway.

"Who'd 'a thought that being a hairdresser was so demanding?"

"Me, apparently." She joked, watching Tig get up and leave the room.

It'd turned somber. A little too bleak for her liking, but she guessed that everyone felt a bit awkward after Tara stamped out and Jax sat on his porch. Alone. With a bottle of whiskey.

She hated the hold that woman had over him sometimes. The way he was so fucking devoted to Tara Knowles that she could literally slap him, scream in his face, and ruin his son's homecoming party--and he would still pine for her.

She'd never understand that.

And she didn't understand how such a lively bunch of individuals had mellowed out over the course of two hours, either.

The party had disappeared. Dissipated into nothing and the atmosphere she once lauded was completely dead in the water.

It was fucking grim, and she couldn't wait to head home.

"Can I come with you tonight?"

"Why'd you even ask? Y'know you're welcome to come home with your old man whenever you want." Chibs told her a little bit stern, though it was essentially full of love.

She just smiled up at him, a bit buzzed. But she was having a good-ish time and who was he to chastise her for drinking a little too much tonight?

"Wanna head off now?"

"Yeah--lemme just say 'bye' to Gemma."

"Alright, I'll be out front. Don't forget your purse." He reminded, knowing she was too ditsy for her own good.

Chibs helped her to her feet, letting go of her hand only to part ways for a few moments.

Her mood was perking up, now. The prospect of being able to spend a few hours with her dad after a long fucking day, was just the best.

And she'd really missed him. Missed the time they once had an abundance of. Missed the evenings that they'd spend talking, drinking, watching movies, doing the generic father daughter activities.

They hadn't had that for a while, and it was truly a blessing that it was within reach tonight.

Well. It was within reach for all of five minutes.

"Oh my God--" Gemma's cell slipped from between black nails and bounced across the table. Saturated hues were locked on Isla, and her head shook.

"What?"

"There's--there's been an accident." She managed to muster out. "Or, maybe a drive-by, I don't know, but Donna--"

"Donna?" Piney's attention was snatched at the mention of his daughter-in-law. He stood up. "What about her?"

Isla knew the answer. She knew what Gemma was going to say because it was just the usual now, wasn't it?

Being affiliated with SAMCRO just did that to somebody. Man, woman, child. They didn't fucking care.

"She's--Piney, she's dead."

[anti-anti-stevinel]

What the fuck is the deal with "ankle-beez"? They seem to be the biggest Steven Universe blog around. Every other SU blog I know (even the world's only proshipper Connverse normie, picturejasper20) reblogs from them.

They're also the world's biggest hypocrite.

They make analysis posts about the real message of SU, about love and forgiveness, against revenge and that sort of stuff.

At the same time, they are a hardcore anti-shipper bully.

They sent me gore and death threats last year when I was 17, for shipping Stevinel. Said "yer a pedo kill yerself!!11" (okay, that's paraphrased).

What's wrong with Stevinel?

Is it that Steven is "a minuh and not ready for sexual relationships"? Then, why is Connie, a human fourteen-year-old in-universe, ready for sexual relationships when it's with Steven? Why is Steven ready for it with Connie?

This leads me to believe it's the stated "aGe GaP!!11". In that case, Greg/Rose, which ankle-beez likes, is child rape (he wuz twenty an she wuz twentythousand!) That's fucking stupid. Kataang and Bubbline are "child rape" too, by those standards. Stating an exaggerated number next to a supernatural, non-aging, cartoon character does not child rape make. Is Katara a "necrophile" for having kids with Aang, a so-called "hundred-and-forty-something-year-old" character? Because 140-year-old men are all known to be dead? Is everyone who's read the Bible a Child Rapist™️, because the eternal, ageless God impregnated the thirteen-year-old Virgin Mary, as part of the biblical canon leading to the birth of Our Saviour Jesus Christ?

Also, by the same fucking stupid standards they use to call Spinel an "aDulT", Steven is one too. Gems don't fucking age. They're robots. If I have a 200-year-old baby doll, it's still a baby doll. Dolls don't age. Since Steven's gemstone (and with it, Pink's/his memories) has been around for 20000 years, he is "an adult", an "elderly man".

That brings me to the next point: one cannot "ship pedophilia". I wish I could "ship" mental disorders. I wish my autism, ADHD, OCD, Tourette's, depression and paranoia were as simple as fictional "ships".

More or less, "pedo" hysteria is NOT about protecting chilluns. When a child is murdered, nobody bats an eye. When child-on-child sexual abuse occurs, the same applies. Also, when an adult is raped. It's not about healing sexually abused children, or preventing rape. When adult-on-child sexual abuse occurs, the emphasis in media is never about helping the kid. It's always about torturing and murdering the "pedo" (sexual abuser). Basically, because nobody cares when there's no "pedo" to punish, it's not about protecting children, it's about hating people with mental disorders. Apparently, because I turned 18 two days ago, I lose my human right not to be raped.

What "paedophilia" actually is, is a mental disorder characterised by a greater level of arousal towards prepubescent individuals to pubescent ones. You cannot support or oppose it - you cannot be convicted for it or commit it - it's a disorder. Something you're pretty much born with and can't change. Conflating it with rape is like conflating "schizophrenia" with serial murder. While schizophrenic individuals have a higher murder risk compared to the general population, nobody ever says "commit schizophrenia" when talking about murder.

Fandom discourse is not a PhD. You cannot diagnose me with a disorder from the DSM-5 for writing the wrong fanfiction. You cannot convict me of a crime for it, either.

The most common anti argument that fanfic/hentai/whatever "encourages pedophilia". You cannot encourage a disorder. I will not magically sprout mental illness from reading fanfic. If you mean it ""encourages child rape"", if I were to rape someone, I could not blame reading a fanfic. Rape is caused by far deeper issues than having read a stupid fanfic.

Rick/Morty is canon in the multiverse, and Morty is a fictional teenager (who wishes incest porn had more mainstream appeal) with Rick, his equally fictional grandfather. So, who is raped by this? Nobody. Again, if you rape someone, you can't say Rick x Morty incest fanfic made you do it.

ALL ships are fine. Even stupid shit like Rick/Morty. Stevinel, though, isn't even of that kind. It's literally no worse than Bubbline, Kataang and Gregrose, all of which are canon to their shows.

So, what is it? "She """tried""" to kill him"? Strange. When Steven lets his shield down, Spinel could just blow him to fucking bits with that city-sized, injector-smashing fist of hers. She doesn't. SU's definition of "try" means "stop yourself". "Try" suggests someone else has to stop you with force, and that didn't happen, in which case, Steven "tried" to kill Greg in Mr. Universe, White (and with her, every Gem) in Homeworld Bound, and Connie in Buddle Buddies and every episode where he gets Connie into fights, and, and EVERYONE in Laser Light Cannon, Little Graduation and I am My Monster. He also "actually murdered" Jasper in Fragments by the standards (mind you, shattering isn't lethal and the Diamonds did nothing wrong).

Anti-shippers have implanted this stupid idea that non-aging things age as humans into my head. The idea is there to virtue-signal against MUH EBIL PEEDOUGHS. Now, I have paranoid thoughts about being a child rapist when I cuddle naked with a pillow that's been manufactured one year ago. Pillows don't age. But, in antis' heads, they do.

Why am I supposed to think of Spinel as an elderly woman? The character who is shorter, less mature and higher-pitched than Steven, sobs like a baby, plays peekaboo and gets adopted at the end of the movie?

It just disturbs me, honestly, how anklebeez can understand the show's message against violence and for healing, while literally murdering real children (and adults) for the rights of fictional ones, by bullying into suicide.

Why are they so popular? Anyway, I accidentally got carried away and wrote a masterpost when I meant for a quick ask. Hope you appreciate it.

Also, what determines whether a cartoon character is okay to "sexualise" or not?

Stated number? Then I can draw a stickman with a dick, then write the number 15 next to him, then you're a Child Rapist™️ for having looked at the image?

Height? Then is why is R34 of Madeline from Celeste, Sans and Amethyst, okay, when it's not okay for Steven and Hat Kid?

The word "kid"? Then, kill any teenager with a crush on a cartoon of Kid Cudi, I guess?

Don't harass ankle-beez. It's not worth it. Revenge is pointless. Never, though, have I been so confused by someone's self-contradictions.

Seriously.

Wow, this is huge, I didn’t know they allowed asks to get this long now, lol.

Um, but no comment on all of this since it’s just a rant, lol. But I don’t disagree.

[ultraclops]

Semi-Live Blogging: Finale Time!

With reaction images this time!

Adoradad

TRAINING EXERCIIISE

Adorabat's practicing her screaming! Bet that's gonna come in handy later.

"Fneh!" Wow what an introduction Eugene

His design is like? Really cool?? He looks practically nothing like Adorabat tho. And why does he have a spade on his stomach instead of a heart??

Badgerclops drew him with a giant ass mustache lol.

Adorabat takes banjo lessons? More importantly, Eugene thought she was at a banjo lesson FOR 8 MONTHS?!

"She scares me" lol

Adorabat ran away from home? Why?

"I thought you were a ward of the state!" Remember when everyone thought Adorabat was an orphan? Yea.

"I thought you were my conscience!" Badgerclops...you've lived with Adorabat for a year...went to her school...AND YOU THOUGHT SHE WAS A PIECE OF YOUR SUBCONSCIOUS?!

...why did Badgerclops use Adorabat as monster bait...

I expected to hate Eugene but he's actually really cute and interesting?? Aside from the fact he thinks Mao Mao & Badgerclops are criminals. Love to see him again sometime!

Wow her dad has a whole badass mansion!! Why doesn't she just stay there...

Oh...her mom died...that's why he's so protective of her and was so upset when she left. Also her mom looks amazing & I wanna see a flashback episode with her. For some reason I can imagine her sounding like a deeper version of Scoops?

Aww Adorabat's room is super cool! Also Eugene cracking the door for her asfgjkl

"Do you think that monsters attacking the city are gonna - wait, does that have peanut butter in it? " (Cuts to MM & BC eating ice cream while crying) That's a perfectly rational reaction to losing your adoptive daughter

"I can keep it together!" (Cut to Mao Mao trying and failing to shovel ice cream in his mouth with his helmet on) NSADGEDHAMADH

Wait a second. Mao's eating mint chocolate chip ice cream. ISN'T CHOCOLATE TOXIC TO CATS?!

"But you said I was part of the team!!" "Then you're...off the team."

Adorabat crying while showing Eugene the picture OUCH MY HEART...

"I used to go exploring in those caves with Mom all the time..." I'm guessing those are the caves from the promo?

"She wasn't afraid of anything!" " Well Adorabat definitely takes after her mother...

"And then one day, Sonara didn't come back with you." Ooh her name's Sonara!! Pretty!! I can't tell if they chose it cuz it sounds like Sonar or because it means "pleasant sounding"

Glad to see Adorabat's still a die-hard metal fan, even with Eugene

Oof Mao isn't taking this well at ALL if he's pretending Adorabat's molt is her...

OOH SHIT ADORABAT RAN OFF TO THE CAVES - wait a minute no she didn't. OH NO EUGENE WENT TO THE CAVES

Ooh there's Sonara's looking glass, bet that's gonna be important

Yay Adorabat saved her dad!

Damn Adorabat must be super traumatized after basically watching her mother die. No wonder she tried to murder Boba-Chan!

Oh the only way to stop the monster is by screaming!

(Mao Mao hears Adorabat scream) "ADORABAT?!" ADOPTIVE DAD POWERS ACTIVATE

Ooh her mother's figure appears over her when she says she's not afraid of anyone...maybe her spirit's inside of her or something?

REVENGE TIME BAYBEY

HOLY SHIT ADORABAT FUCKING MURDERED THAT THING

Eugene & Adorabat both apologized to each other I...

"You can't just leave without the most fearless member of the group!" YAAY ADORABAT'S BACK (Also how are we gonna explain to Eugene Adorabat's scared of the dark?)

"I'll mess 'em up real good! So good, their mommies and daddies won't be able to recognize them when I'm done..." Daaammmnnn...

"She scares me :)"

I wonder...is Sonara really dead? Or are they gonna pull a Kipo & have her still be alive but in a different form?

Badge-A-Fire explosion

Uhh...where is Badgerclops? And why is Mao Mao on the top bunk?!

Of course Badgerclops is petty enough to install a fake monster alarm on his laptop to wake Mao Mao and Adorabat up.

"This is a super-serious work meeting, as you can see by the fact that I haven't provided any snacks!" No snacks?! This must be a serious issue!! /s

"As you know, I am a creative genius. Sometimes there's so much natural creative genius that my brain overloads, and I enter a heightened state that I call 'Ultra Focus'..." Oh so basically like hyperfixation?

"...where I break into a creative sprint, inventing super-advanced technology at supernatural speeds, unparalleled by anyone in the entire field of science." Okay maybe only a LITTLE bit like hyperfixation...wait a second, IS THAT WHY BADGERCLOPS IS SO TIRED ALL THE TIME?!

Uhh did he get his arm stuck in the front door? HE TOOK THE AEROCYCLE?!

"...I forget everything the next morning." Remember my headcanon that Badgerclops represses his memories? Yea...

"Which is why it's not my fault and I don't think I should be criticized :D" TBH I screamed with laughter at this scene solely because of the expression he made

...HE GAVE THE SKY PIRATES THE GEM CELL?! I mean he clearly wasn't thinking right when he did it BUT STILL?!

"Oh hey, I told you I'd use that weird elevator thing!" Dude you LITERALLY used it in Ultraclops. What are you talking about.

"If the Sky Pirates had the Gem Cell, they would've used it already!" That is a fair point ngl.

Umm...did Badgerclops give Adorabat a BOMB?!

Tbh if my friend woke me up in the middle of the night with weird-looking eyes and handed me a timer while saying something about an explosion I would DEFINITELY not go back to sleep afterwards...

I'm sorry, IS THE WHOLE VALLEY GONNA BLOW UP?! WHAT THE HELL DID HE MAKE?!

Mao wiping Badgerclops' tears I'm

A paper towel dispenser? Well that's not that bad - IS THAT A GIANT PAIR OF PANTS?!

Ooh it's not a shock collar it's a translator!! That makes a bit more sense... "I HAVE NO REMORSE OR CONCEPT OF EMPATHY!" ...if the monster doesn't have remorse or empathy how does it know what those words mean...

Badgerclops keeps telling Mao Mao & Adorabat not to criticize him...hmm...I wonder who criticized his inventions that made him that way...*cough* HIS MOM *cough*

"Are all your inventions this weird?!" "YOU'RE WEIRD!!"

IM SORRY DID BADGERCLOPS BUILD A DANCING MACHINE INTO MAO MAO'S BONES?! HIS BONES?! AND HE MADE ADORABAT A SECOND MEGAPEG?!

What in the absolute hell is going on dgaadhdagdadga

Okay but when Badgerclops clutched his head and started shaking when Mao Mao asked why he made those things...I FELT THAT IN MY HEART I FELT THAT IN MY SOUL

Ngl this scene really hit home for me cuz that's how I act when I have a breakdown...

The timer went off but nothing blew up - WAIT, IS THAT A REPLICA OF MECHA HOSSORAFFASNAKEARANG?!

"Initializing Totally Humane Knockout Procedure." (Proceeds to slam the Sheriff's Dept. into the ground) ajdajdgdad

Ooh...ohh they're on some sort of water park...ride...thing??

"And if I didn't want us to get out, then I made sure we couldn't...with super-strong shoe things." But there isn't any on Adorabat, can't she just squeeze herself out?

Ooh I'm getting Pirates of the Caribbean vibes

There's the Gem Cell, it must be powering the ride! Also the robotic arm slaps Mao's hand the same way Mao slaps Badgerclops' hand in Flyaway skkkk

"My amazing creativity is finally gonna destroy us all..." "Hey, at least we'll be destroyed together!" Fair point, fair point

The shoosh returneth

"I always loved inventing." So he was an inventor ever since he was little? Daww.

YOUNG BC IS SO ADORABLE!! He has a lil medical patch instead of an eyepatch which is def more accurate to real life...but what's the vest for? Protection in case he falls? A pressure stim?

That figure's def his mom since they rejected his ideas & he mentions she was mean to him. Also the theory that his mom's a villain seems a bit stronger since they straight-up hand him a tool kid + a set of blueprints with no regard to his safety...

"Also there was a bunch of other kids at school and some other people throughout my life who mocked me relentlessly." THEN WHY'D YOU TELL ADORABAT YOU COULDN'T RELATE TO HER WHEN SHE SAID NO ONE WANTED TO BE HER FRIEND?! (Also I noticed literally all the kids are other badgers, so I'm assuming Badgerclops grew up sheltered like Mao Mao did.)

So the Ultra Focus is basically a really weird coping mechanism to deal with all the abuse and bullying he went through? Holy fuckkk

"They only made fun of you because they were jealous. Happened to me my whole life!" Umm...

"Even the dance chip I surgically implanted in your brain?" Excuse me the dance chip that you WHAT

"I love you-" HE SAID IT 💗💓💗💓

"I'm finally around people who love and understand me..."

Wait did the cannon misfire? DID IT BLOW A HOLE IN THE GROUND?!

OH HE ACTUALLY DID CREATE AN ANIMATRONIC BAND?! I THOUGHT IT WAS A JOKE!!

"Take it away, Boss Hosstritch!" (Distorted garbling)

Oof Mao caught all the water

"We hope you all enjoyed being Badgerclops' friend." 💞💕💞💕

Not that anyone cares but I noticed there's a picture of some of the Sweetypies on the monitors, meaning 1. Badgerclops tested it out using them first, or 2. Badgerclops just likes those Sweetypies for whatever reason. Tho that makes me wonder why he'd choose Pinky of all people...

THE SKY PIRATES WERE INSIDE THE ANIMATRONICS THE WHOLE TIME?! THE MAN BEHIND THE SLAUGHTE

Zing Your Heart Out

Why are they giving out rotten sushi??

"HOW DARE YOU LAUGH AT ME EATING SOMETHING GROSSLY?!"

Ooh god Chester's gonna be super freaking annoying in this episode, I can feel it.

"What's blue and smells like red paint? Blue paint!" BAYBEY

Jesus what a prick. GET HIM MAO MAO

Ngl that background's really pretty...

Oooh no the Ruby Pure Heart's being weird again. Ooh no.

FUCK YEA ROAST HIM BABY - Did Adorabat's eyes turn purple because the Ruby Pure Heart gave her powers?

Oh so the siren in Badgerclops' robo-arm is a backup monster alarm?

More Sky Pirates - and the Pure Heart's being weird again...

"I'd tell you but despite your height it'd go right over your HEAD!" Asdfgghjjk

"For someone with two brains, you're not very BRIGHT!" EVEN BETTER

Kevin said he was raising money for a school trip, then for a trip to the hospital...which one is he raising money for?!

"SILENCE PANCAKE, LEST YE BE BUTTERED"

OOH NO SHE ATTACKED MAO AND BC

"IT FEELS LIKE THE WEIGHT OF ONE THOUSAND PLANETS!!"

"One second, I'm getting mad, and the next thing you know-" Is she freaking possessed??

Wait, is the Pure Heart TALKING to Adorabat?! How?!

Cluckins you don't ask people what's wrong with their eyeballs...even if there is something wrong with their eyeballs

"I CAN'T FEEL MY SELF-RESPECT!!"

The pure 'oh shit' on Marion's face when Adorabat turns to her

Half of the people she insulted showed up to her party! Didn't that mean she loved them?!

Oh god not this bitch again - nvm, thanks Adorabat

"Taking over the castle and ruling Pure Heart Valley forever does sound nice..." This is starting to remind me of that one AU where Adorabat turns evil, becomes the ruler of the Sky Pirates, then convinces them to kill Snugglemagne and becomes the queen of Pure Heart...she isn't gonna kill Snugglemagne, is she?

What did Adorabat tell Snugglemagne?! I WANNA KNO

Why is Pinky stealing teeth...reminds me of this

NO BC DON'T EAT THE TEETH

"I...hate myself! Therefore, I'm invincible!" So the trick to not getting your ego destroyed...is to not have an ego. Sounds reasonable.

"Your bug platter, my king?" Genderfluid Adorabat rights

"Mao Mao, your head looks like a CROW!" (Mao Mao caws) IT WAS A LIE HE ISN'T A CAT HE WAS A CROW THIS WHOLE TIME-

"It looks like a half-melted ice cream cone!!" That is...a strange way to describe your own neck...

"Well, I'm...bad (◡‿◡)" Kinda weird that the canonically depressed character can't even cleverly insult himself

...why does Adorabat's skin smell like old cantaloupe

OH SHE IS POSSESSED!!

HOLY SHIT MAO WAS GONNA FUCKING MURDER ADORABAT TO SAVE THE KINGDOM?! THANK GOD HE SAW HER JOKE BOOK, HOLY SHIT

Positivity outweighs negativity!

"WHERE DOES A 800 POUND GORILLA SIT?!" "Where ever it wants!◝(⁰▿⁰)◜" Curse you for making me laugh...

OOH NO THE JOKEBOOK! - Wait nvm Mao remembers Adorabat's jokes!

I think the reason they used that joke is because it represents Mao Mao and Adorabat - Adorabat is blue, and she wants to be like Mao Mao, who wears red. What is BLUE, and smells like (is similar to) RED paint?

YAAAY HE BROKE HER FREE FROM MIND CONTROL!! And did BC get Thanos snapped in the background?

"Thank goodness you're alright! We almost..." Fucking murdered you? Yea

"Might we have our crown and kingdom back, yes?"

"Sorry for being such a monster today." "You're a monster everyday." Is that a joke because she was today's villain, a reference to Sleeper Sofa or foreshadowing?

I hope Mao Mao and Badgerclops decide to investigate what's up with the Heart in Season Two, cause I highly doubt they'll let Adorabat getting fucking possessed go under the radar.

The visual gag of Mao trying to stomp out his ice cream cone like a cigarette is perfect. This is peak comedy everyone else go home

WHOOP CHESTER'S ASS GUYS

Strange Bedfellows

"So, your name is Boss Hosstrich, but you're not actually the boss?" How long did it take him to realize that

JFC Mao & Orangusnake are REALLY hellbent on killing each other huh...at least the deputies and the other Sky Pirates have common sense.

Hahaha nice Dragon Ball Z reference - and they both got crushed by the monster! Lovely.

...did Mao seriously think he died and went to heaven?

So does Orangusnake breathe through Tanner or do they both breathe independently & Coby can feel when Tanner can't?

Dang those skeletons remind me of the Steven Universe Future episode Growing Pains. And why is Lucky inside of Orangusnake? "THAT WAS MY LUNCH, JERK!" Ooh that's why.

"They're full of these tiny, little cracks or, as they're known in the medical field, 'whoopsie-boo-boos'." AGSADGASGADGDASG

Damn their skeletons are just gonna freaking evaporate huh...

"The doctor said I was very brave :D"

Ooh shit the Deputies and the other Sky Pirates met at the same elevator, are they gonna fight - nevermind, they're still calling time.

JESUS CHRIST ARE MAO & ORANGUSNAKE EVER GONNA STOP?!

"You don't have the guts!" "I have a million guts." That is...mildly concerning

"Yeah, I wanted to be a baker, before I realized I liked hurting people so much." Then why doesn't she just like, help Muffins or something?

Tbh I thought Ratarang was holding a gun and I'm glad it was just a weirdly wrapped banana

CONE OF SHAME. CONE OF SHAME. CONE OF SHAME.

"Aww, y'all shouldn't have - this is empty." "Just like my heart when you injure yourself!!" He loves him sm...💓💓

"Why didn't you bring me weapons?!" "Because this is a hospital, and I'm a good boy (◡‿◡ )"

"I really feel like this could be a turning point in their relationship." (Mao and Orangusnake proceed to try and kill each other again) *sigh*

Ngl Mao & Orangusnake constantly repeating themselves is getting super annoying.

That hospital bed beeping is giving me flashbacks to all the times I went to the hospital for seizures...

"You know y'all could live like this, like, all the time if you didn't go around hurting people, right?" "Pssh! Tsk-tsk, boy. You know I gots to hurt people." Uhh you guys should really listen to Badgerclops he knows what tf he's talking about

UUhh, whose egg is that? "MAMA" ASGagddahDh

Of course they had to land in freaking CEMENT to realize that maybe they shouldn't kill each other

Did Mao just deflate like a ballo- oh nvm there he go.

Boneless Mao. Boneless Mao.

And Mao saved Orangusnake!! By...breaking every bone in his body somehow.

"I'm the kind of hero who wants to save you so I can fight you later...at the right time and place." Just gonna file this along with the credit score scene from Perfect Couple in the 'Orangumao' folder.

Is Badgerclops duct taping Mao to the stretcher? I mean, at least he won't move & hurt himself again but geez

Tbh Zing would’ve made a better finale than this ep. At least it had a sequel hook