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kaypeace21 · 4 years

Text

Stranger things is about mental health & trauma- deal with it!

I’ve seen a lot of people claim anyone who mentioned this topic immediately be gaslit and told they’re “just crazy” and “rudely projecting their own issues on to the characters.’ Like- no you don’t have to believe my Will DID/Lonnie theory ( I could be wrong). But to claim one of the show’s central themes isn’t about mental health/trauma (screams either complete lack of lit comprehension or denial cause you have your own negative biases towards such people). So let’s just go into what’s literal text-not subtext/symbolism. Just the super blatant stuff. RIGHT IN THE SHOW!

-We have El when she first appears on screen asked by Benny if her parents starved and hurt her and if that’s why she ran away. Benny then calls CPS to say El “may have been ab*sed or something.” After this Lucas says there is “seriously something wrong with her-wrong in the head. She’s probably from the NUT-HOUSE in curly county.penthurst” We also see El cannonically has PTSD-all of s1 she’ll see something benign (a cat, a coke commercial, a closet) and is triggered to see a traumatic flashback. That’s literally ptsd. There’s also hints throughout the seasons she’s developmentally behind in both language, telling time etc (neglect like El’s irl can cause an intellectual disability-analysis on El/that subject here).The real pethurst in pensylvannia (not the one in stranger things/ Curly county) closed in 1986- it was a facility for people and mostly kids with intellectual disabilities (it wasn’t technically a psych facility like the one in st)-but it was infamous for it’s abuse of these intellectually disabled patients kept there. We also have Brenner be a ab*sive psychiatrist.

- Hopper after suffering from the loss of his daughter. Is popping pills like candy, drinking and smoking constantly. He later says he used to hallucinate and forgot what was real -seeing and hearing sarah and says if he didn’t confront the pain he’d “fall down a black hole he couldn’t get out of.” NO... subtext here about what the void represents nope.

- Both mothers (Terry & Joyce) are dismissed as being mentally ill and simply grieving the loss of their kids . But both end up being right about the supernatural.

- “Terry pretends Jane is real. i mean it’s all make believe. you know the doctors all say it’s a coping mechanism.”

- While with Joyce the whole town pre s1 already questioned her mental health. Jonathan says “She used to have anxiety problems (pre s1).” And Jonathan, Hopper, and Lonnie all assume she’s hallucinating: talking to Will via lights, seeing a man without a face, saying Will’s body is fake -due to grief. Plus Lonnie mentions the fact Joyce’s aunt Darlene also used to hallucinate as a possible reason (terry’s aunt also had mental health issues mentioned in s2 by Becky). Lonnie even says everything Joyce is seeing is “all in her head.” Hopper and Jon both say she needs to sleep and accept reality and Lonnie says she needs to see a “shrink”. Hopper “i’m not saying that you’re crazy”. Joyce : “no, you are.” Joyce also says to Lonnie “Stop looking at me like that... like everyone else like i’m out of my damn mind.” Hopper also says about Joyce she’s “on the edge”. Callahan says in response , “she’s been on the edge for a while now” (referring to her mental health- even before Will’s dissappearance)”. While Lonnie says Jonathan is “feeding into her hallucinations ... you’re going to push her right over the edge.” In s2 Hopper says “ I think everyone is on edge- you, me, Will most of all. (when talking about Will’s ptsd/trauma)”

- in s1 They claim Will just “fell” over the edge of the quarry’s cliff. Later the only other queer coded character (Mike) jumps off the quarry cliff (where Will’s body was found) cause the homophobic troy forced him too jump. Troy even says earlier dead-Will is “flying with all the other fairies all happy and gay” (to Mike). And Troy says to Hopper El made Mike “fly” after jumping off the cliff. Friendship saved him from jumping off the edge metaphorically ( and he’ll prob eventually be happy and gay too).

s2/3

-Will is seeing a therapist . And we are told he has ptsd and will experience the anniversary effect, personality changes,nightmares, having episodes, etc. And things “will get worse before they get better”. Mike also asks if what Will is seeing is “real or like the doctors say all in your head?” And Will continues to see hallucinations of the mf/upsidedown that only he can see initially.

-Hopper also agrees with owens mentioning how he knew guys with ptsd . joyce : “it’s not like he’s describing a nightmare. He talks about them like they’re real.” Hopper: “Yeah, because they’re not nightmares they’re flashbacks.I think he’s right about trauma.I think everyone is on edge (bringing that s1 ref back), Me you, Will, most of all.Nothing’s gonna go back to the way that it was. But it’ll get better.In time.”

-Nancy suffers from survivor’s guilt and drunkingly says she killed Barb. Jonathan says like Nancy he has “a weight that you that carry all the time . i feel it too.” (cough depression). He also says he tries to be there for Will but says about Will “he’s not the same. maybe things can’t go back to the way they were. (mirroring Hopper’s words earlier that season)”

-Jonathan said in s1 Joyce had “anxiety issues” than Nancy says in s3 “you really are your mother’s son... you worry too much.” Then we see him look worried after the comment.

- in s2, Axel & a scientist both call El and Will “schizos” because of their powers. In s3 mrs driscoll isn’t believed about the supernatural cause she’s schizophrenic-but like Joyce/Terry was right.

- Kali saves a woman named Dottie (a british slang term for crazy) from a mental hospital and then compares herself and El to dottie. saying her non-powered gang is “Like us ...outsiders... society discarded them.” In graphitti we even see the title “obedlam” a british poem about discarding the mentally ill and leaving them homeless. El before this sees a mentally ill man screaming “we’re all dead!” Kali’s friend says to El, after this encounter they were “dead all of us” until kali “saved them here” (points to head) “and here” (points to heart). Pointing to the theme of love and friendship helping those with such issues. Similar to the cliff analogy.

-The cycle of ab*se. Max in s2 says she’s afraid of becoming like Billy (her ab*ser). We see Billy mimic his ab*ser neil and inflict pain on max. In s3 we see the roots of his behavior are linked to mimicking Neil- Neil in a flashback says about baseball “what are you scared?” “ did i raise a p*ssy for a son”. So young Billy later in a fight says to a boy “ what are you scared to fight me? fight me p*ssy. (as he beats the boy)” Deflecting his anger of his father on to someone else. In s3, We see as a kid he used to say to Neil “don’t hurt her” (his mom)-specifically after Neil backhand slaps her -but we later see possessed Billy backhand slap Max (just like neil). The resentment to his mother leaving - festered into how he views women and max negatively . And his attraction to mrs wheeler prob is linked to him subconsciously missing his mother. Max in s2 even says he can’t take it out on her mother so he does so to her instead (we even have Billy hallucinate hurting mrs wheeler).We see in s2 the cycle of abuse is there- Billy mimics Neil, and then Max mimics Billy. Billy harrasses Max and yells “SAY IT!” (mimicking Neil). Max like Billy later yells “SAY IT” and uses a bat /violence to stand up for herself against Billy- which earlier she said she was trying to combat … explaining she can be angry like Billy sometimes but she never wants to be like him (her nickname symbolizing this: aka ‘mad max’). Billy’s last dying words were an apology to Max- for becoming her neil. And we hopefully will see Max break this cycle.

- Will says his now memories (that he describes like dreams) are “growing “, “spreading “,and “killing”. While Kali says they need to face their father and (as Brenner) says El has to confront her “wound” or else it’ll “grow”, “spread” and “eventually it’ll kill her.” Kali says she used to be like El . She used to bottle her pain away and it “spread.” But she then says “I confronted my pain and I finally began to heal (from those wounds).” We also see with jonathan and nancy when describing “shared trauma” zoom in onto the scars on their hands. The wound heeled into a scar so to speak.

S2 & 3 ENDINGS

both have Hopper do a speech that delves into dealing with trauma/depression but still finding good along the way.

-s2 Hopper outside the snowball: “how are you holding up? Yeah, that feeling never goes away. It is true what they say, you know. Everyday it does get easier.”

-s3 Hopper monolouge : “ Feelings jesus. For so long, i’d forgotten what those even were. I’ve been stuck in one place,in a cave you might say , a deep dark cave (cough s2 supernatural cave). For the first time in a long time, i started to feel things again. I started to feel happy. Life... yeah sometimes it’s painful .sometimes it’s sad, and sometimes it’s suprising... happy.. And when life hurts you, because it will .remember the hurt . The hurt is good. It means you’re out of that cave.”

BUT YES- St has nothing to do with mental health/trauma, we’re just “crazy” and “projecting”. It’s not like some of ya’ll act pompous when you just have a bias and get pissy at the idea of relating to characters you “other” as “crazy” or “damaged” irl or anything (so attack people for pointing it out). Or (benefit of the doubt) you are just like.... oblivious... or just a kid who doesn’t know better XD

#stranger things #el hopper #will byers #jim hopper #joyce byers #max mayfield #billy hargrove #kali prasad #mike wheeler #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler

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khaleesiofalicante · 3 years

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HI, IT'S ME! YOUR LOCAL CHAOTIC WEIRDO!!!!! I'M BACK AGAIN LIKE I AM TWICE EVERY WEEK

IT'S MY BOY DAVID THIS TIME! WHY AM I SO HYPER! MAYBE BECAUSE THEY KISSED! AND I HAD TO SUPPRESS MY SCREAMS BCAUSE IM IN CLASS AND THE REST OF MY FAMILY IS OUTSIDE MY DOOR (NOT LITERALLY OFC)

OK OK OK OK OK OK

MAX AND DAVID ARE AT THE LONDON INSTITUTE YESYESYESYES

He rather liked that part in a story – when the hero fell, and everything seemed bleak. It always meant that hope was just around the corner. Because darkness never lasted. It was always followed by light. There was nothing more beautiful than that kind of sunrise.

THIS

I literally live my life by this analogy

AHHH DAVID IS ON HIS TRAVEL YEAR AND MAX IS WITH HIM

SCREAM

well i can't scream because my mom is sitting right there and I have class in 4 minutes so imma smile really wide

“Are you planning to read the entire library during your travel year?” Max chuckled.

“Of course not,” David replied. “I will need longer than a year to accomplish that goal.”

Me.

Wait

does max not being able to make portals have something to do with his lineage?

demon parent

ok so my programming class started 2 minutes early but screw programming I'm gonna be studying minds not this shit

ok that's a very bad attitude for someone who needs good grades in this year

Max was always hungry.

this is so me

KIT

THEY MENTIONED TY

also if David doesn't become an institute head in the future THEN WHAT'S THE POINT

“Where is the kitchen?” Max interrupted.

max is such a mood

He had told Max that he had centuries to perfect his magic, that there was no need to rush it. Max had given him a noncommittal nod and nothing more.

HE'S GONNA MAKE THE BEST PORTALS YOU'LL SEE

“I won’t tell the Consul,” Kit winked.

At the mention of the Consul, David straightened up. He had been trying to get into Alec Lightwood’s good graces for years now. He didn’t think sharing a room with his son would do him any favors.

DAVID UDUCDFUHKDUHVUHSDH

PLEASE IF WE DON'T GET A CUTE ALEC AND DAVID SCENE SOON

KIT CALLED TESSA MOM

oh my god

Word was that Mr. Herondale had gone back to his obsession with brewing tea.

JACE

I have so many emotions right now but all I'm gonna say is that I'm so so proud of Rafael

“Do you not want to sleep with me?” Max asked.

UH-

WELL-

DAVID STOP THINKING ABOUT THE FUTURE AND ALL THE SHIT

STOP IT

OH MY GOD THE ONE BED TROPE

MAX IS IN HIS ARMS I'M ABOUT TO-

takes a deep breath don't scream. everyone outside this door thinks you're taking programming class

OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE JUST GET TOGETHER ALREADY

AWW JULIAN PAINTED PORTRAITS FOR THE INSTITUTE

The one of Will Herondale and Tessa Gray – A love that had transcended reality and lasted a lifetime.

The one of James Herondale and Cordelia Carstairs – A love that had started with a lie and then blossomed into nothing but happiness and devotion.

The one of Lucie Herondale and Jesse Blackthorn – A love that had been so powerful that it rewrote the past.

The one of Jace Herondale and Clary Fairchild – A love that had walked through hell and shaken up the heavens.

And then there the final one. The one of Kit Herondale and Tiberius Blackthorn – A love that had survived distance and darkness and doom.

This omg...

He wanted a love story. The kind he read in the books. The kind he saw in these portraits.

But he wasn’t a Herondale. He wasn’t sure if he was destined for that kind of love.

HEY

DON'T THINK LIKE THAT

The first part though

same

He might have been a little too excited. It was biologically impossible to control yourself when you find a stranger reading your favorite book in the whole world.

SO TRUE

“I see you already made a new friend,” Max said.

He sounded a little…odd. As if he was not pleased that David had made a new friend.

honey...

take a guess

can I jump in and bash their heads together?

“You are thinking of conjuring chocolate syrup, aren’t you?” David chuckled.

“How do you always know what’s on my mind?” Max chuckled back.

Because I know you, David wanted to say. I just wish I knew what’s in your heart too.

OH MY GOD I CANT WITH THIS

“You get chocolate syrup! You get chocolate syrup! You get chocolate syrup!” Max was yelling, standing on the chair.

They residents laughed harder, and David shook his head fondly. He hoped one day Max would pursue a career in theatre. He was a born showman.

can I have chocolate syrup?

also, the way David is just so fond of him like DYUSDGYJCDYUJM

“By the angel, do you have to be a drama queen about everything?” the boy next to them muttered – not so quietly.

David blinked. That was uncalled for.

But Max being Max was completely unfazed. “Of course I do. My Bapa would be personally offended otherwise.”

exactly you rude little shit

Max often pretended like people’s words didn’t hurt him - just as he pretend that fire doesn’t burn or wounds don’t bleed.

wow ok stop calling me out

Is max jealous??????

is he??????

how are people so good at languages like damn

“Oh my god,” Max groaned. “Is he already telling people to check on me?”

LMAO

using mundane medicine...

that's risky

but it's also something that WILL help

can't warlocks tamper with the blood samples?

A part of him wondered if that’s why he had agreed to send Max away to London – at least for a week. Because sometimes you didn’t want other people to see you were hurting.

alec I really goddamn hope you're dealing with this well

some of whom had even decided to die than get help from a warlock.

alright then gets my knives but you chose this :D

Nobody brought a book down for breakfast if they didn't like to read.

yes but sometimes also to seem busy so people won't bother you or you won't look alone.

“I know,” the boy said as he walked past them to the gate. “I sat on the stairs and thought about life for a few good minutes.”

his family is the one who took over David's previous institute (i can't spell that. marse- marselli- wat??) methinks.

The gang always visited whenever all of them were in the city together. They would have so much fun! Of course, the 'fun' mostly entailed Rafael stopping Georgia from drinking random potions she found in the stalls, Selena stopping Lexi from opening a psychic booth to help people talk to Raziel and of course David stopping Max from running to the gambling booths.

LMAO, I CANT WITH THIS-

Rafe: I am anxiety.

me at any given moment

EW TESTICLES HE'S EATING THOSE-

ok maybe I'm the only person who's really picky when it comes to food and doesn't eat the majority of things

“Anything on Magnus Bane?” Max asked.

“No,” the woman snapped and shoved some of the letters into a bag and hide it under the table. “Leave Magnus Bane alone!”

“Appreciate your loyalty,” Max winked at her and started examining a diary.

I like her.

"Everyone should be participating in this" -my programming teacher

me, an intellectual: participating in what?? goes to the class web THE FUCK IS THAT

“Something for the shadowhunter?” the woman smiled. “Perhaps an unpublished snippet from the Beautiful Cordelia?”

“Do you have any love letters?” David asked.

“Hmmm,” the woman went through the pages. “I do have a correspondence between an Iblis demon and Christopher Lightwood? Would you be interested in that?”

if u don't mind I would love to see both of those-

you know I just remembered I have a computer assignment I need to submit by the end of this week fml

“Never fall in love with an immortal,” she giggled again. “We don’t like staying in one place.”

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

MAX WHERE ARE YOU

why are we using x and 3 in programming class what the heck is going on

“I’m not just some warlock,” Max said, his voice low. “I’m Magnus Bane’s son.”

GIVE HIM THAT NECKLACE BACK

we usually have programming once a week on our physical school days and those are fun because my and my friend are continuously passing notes and talking to each other through writing

The scene where Max fought off all the evil people who tried to steal his valuable belonging. He would fight without breaking a sweat and throw magic fireballs at everyone and then get his necklace back. And then he would kiss David in front of everyone and it would somehow rain all of a sudden.

But life wasn’t a movie or a book. Life was just life.

life's boring

fuck life

I just heard a student ask "why are we not taking out the values of b and c" BESTIE I THOUGHT WE WERE DOING PROGRAMMING AND NOT ALGEBRA?????

“I know there wasn’t anyone to protect you before,” Magnus Bane had said. “But we are here now. We will protect you. This will protect you.”

He hadn’t wanted it back then. He didn't even want it even now.

He didn’t want something to protect him. Most importantly, he didn’t want to cover his scar. He didn’t want to hide it. He wasn’t ashamed of it. It wasn’t a mark of a victim. It was the mark of a survivor.

So, David had smiled and given the bracelet back.

“I never wanted to be protected,” David had replied. “I only ever wanted to be loved.”

The warlock had smiled at that and given David a hug. It had felt different than other hugs he had experienced since he had come to New York.

It wasn’t just the magic. Magnus Bane carried so much love inside himself you could literally feel it through him.

I'm gonna cry during my programming class (where we're doing variables apparently all of a sudden??)

this is so beautiful

“I wasn’t talking about Bapa,” Max said now. “I was talking about the other one.”

David chuckled at that. “Oh, yeah. He is definitely going to kill you.”

what flowers would you like at your funeral?

so Jackson has family troubles

I've definitely got that

yeah I know what it's like to be jealous of someone else's perfect family

JACKSON WTF

Is he trying to ruin max's relationship with his family???

oh hell no

JACKSON THE AUDACITY

“One stolen necklace, One broken nose and One bruised cheek,” he said. “And you’ve been in London for less than a day.”

kit seriously? but is he wrong though?

“This is what I get for falling for a Lightwood-Bane,” David sighed and walked through the portal.

WELL AT LEAST HE'S SELF AWARE

Jackson...

in some ways, I can empathize with him. my younger self anyway. but Jackson this is not how you do things

There was a moment of silence and then Magnus Bane giggled.

“I do love it when the quiet ones go feral,” the warlock grinned.

MAGNUS

NOT.THE.TIME

(me too)

“David!” Mr Herondale gasped. “Is your hand okay?”

yup that's Jace y'all

David hated violence. He hated fighting – which he was often not allowed to say out loud considering he was a shadowhunter.

But it was the truth. He hated hurting people – or even things. It made him feel sick.

“It’s alright, Chouchou,” Mr Herondale ran a hand through David’s hair. “Next time, just-”

“Use my words?” David asked.

“Just don’t get caught,” the man winked.

and that is why I would never want to be a shadowhunter.

I know saying that doesn't do anything but when I first read tsc I wanted to be a shadowhunter really badly and damn that was some time ago but now...violence of any kind is my biggest trigger idek why. and I hate that so much because what kind of a person gets triggered by loud voices and fighting EVEN ON SCREEN??? I usually just push myself to watch stuff because it's dumb. I refuse to see trigger warnings before reading a book or watching a show because damn it, I should be able to stand those things I'm, not a child. and it may be doing me more harm than good but I shouldn't feel like this in the first place

okay...that was long

ANYWAY

“David, I appreciate you standing up for Max,” the Consul said. “But next time, please try not to punch anyone in the face.”

“Yes, sir,” David nodded. “Because it’s wrong.”

“Because it means more paperwork for me,” the Consul groaned and then straightened up. “But yes. Absolutely. Very wrong. No punching people!”

LMAO ALEC

Jackson...

I was wrong then

He was grinning. Magnus Bane must have raised hell in the shadow market.

that must have been fun

Max was doing that thing where he was not trying to pout but he was mostly definitely pouting. It made David want to kiss him. But then the Consul spoke, and David reminded himself he didn’t want to be the third person to get punched in the face this evening.

well-

“I understand that Jackson has been through a lot. But that’s not an excuse for him to hurt those around him. I learned that lesson the hard way. So, you shouldn’t excuse his behaviour.”

someone's trauma and pain is never an excuse to hurt others

but that doesn't mean we should invalidate their trauma either

“You can stay back and try to help him. I won’t stop you,” the man got up now. “But if he tries to hurt you-”

“You will unleash hell?” David chuckled.

“Worse,” the other man grinned. “I will unleash Lexi.”

that is much much worse

Books brought him comfort in so many ways. Just holding one in his hands automatically made him feel better.

oh my god

he gets it

I always have a book with me when I'm out even if I'm not gonna get the time to read it because just the weight and comfort of it in my hands or in my backpack brings me so much comfort and helps with my social anxiety so much

no one understands when I try to tell them that

you get it...

someone gets it finally

AYYY IRENE

“David, it’s very sweet that you want to protect Jackson,” Kit pointed out. “But literally no one is buying that. Not even Irene.”

The lynx purred on his lap as if she agreed with Kit.

“I could break into a liquor cabinet,” David said a little indignantly.

David is the nicest you can get

David wouldn’t. Apparently, everyone already seemed to know that - even the lynx he had met five minutes ago.

we are solving something in class and it's really quiet because we're all doing our work (I'm reading the fic so-) and this one person had their mic open and they kept on whispering their steps and it was so weird I cant-

BUT YES DAVID IS A CINNAMON ROLL. EVEN THE LYNX KNOWS

“We were talking about shitty fathers,” Jackson pointed out. “You’re welcome to stay.”

“I’m gonna need something stronger than red wine for this conversation,” Kit chuckled.

I remember that bitch

David used to do it when he was a child. He used to pretend his life was a story. He used to pretend everything that happened to him was happening to some other boy – a boy who wasn’t real. A boy who lived inside a book. Because it hurt a little less when you pretend like it wasn’t happening to you.

But the pain was still very real.

OK YOU CAN STOP CALLING ME OUT NOW

“I fucking hate ogres,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Was your father an ogre too?” Jackson asked.

“He was more like a harpy,” Kit snorted. “He was always flying and fleeing. I didn’t know how deep his talons were in my head until it was too late.”

you really like traumatizing all your characters, don't you?

I really fucking hope the ogre got what he deserved

and if the angel is dead then fuck everyone

“I mean, there was that time when Sebastian Morgenstern turned my father into the endarkened, and then he went around killing people. So, I would say he was more like a zombie,” the man was explaining now. “The zombie father tried to kill me but my brother killed him first.”

“Good lord!” Jackson said in shock.

Kit chuckled softly. “Boy do shadowhunters need therapy.”

they really do

He knew about those from New York. He knew Mr Herondale and Miss Fairchild went for one together.

YES GET THEM THERAPY

“Yikes,” Kit chuckled. “I’d prefer something classier. How about London Boys?”

“None of us are from London though,” Tiberius pointed out.

“The Beatles are not actually beetles, Ty,” Kit chuckled. “It’s just for pizazz.”

damn guys

Then the idea of a band turned into a possible YouTube channel where they would react to cute animal videos.

YS DO IT

“When people do awful things, really awful things, at one point we stop being surprised. Like what Valentine did to his children or what our fathers did to us or what those women did to Rafael. We might have been shocked or disgusted. But it wasn’t unrealistic, was it?”

“I guess not,” the boy said.

“Even when they did the most unimaginable acts of cruelty, it somehow managed to fit into our imagination. We accepted that the world can be unrealistically cruel. The kind of cruelty we will never understand. But why isn’t it the same for kindness? Why is that when someone is too kind, we automatically feel uncomfortable? We judge their intensions or think they are just pretending to be nice. We think they are being unrealistic. Why is that?”

we get so used to cruelty that kindness feels weird

“But that’s how our life works, doesn’t it? It’s a giant ball of what ifs and could have beens and if nots. What if my father had loved me instead of hurt me? Could I have been kinder if I was hugged instead of being abused? Would have I been a different person if not for my trauma? Our lives are an endless collection of theories about our real selves. The one didn’t we never had the chance to become.”

THIS

I used to spend a bunch of time on the what-ifs but those are useless. so screw the what-ifs and live in the present

“I guess we’ll never know, Jackson. None of us will never know how we would have turned out if things had been different for us. We never got the chance to be who were meant to be. Instead, we became who we had to become to survive what we went through. We will never know our true selves. We only know the version of us that made it through all the trauma.”

“Christ, that’s depressing,” Jackson said.

“It is,” David nodded. “But we made it through. We survived. I think we should focus on that.”

you survived. that's what matters

“There is nothing wrong with wanting to be rescued,” David smiled.

I wish I had heard this before...

maybe I don't always have to be strong. maybe it's ok sometimes just want to be saved.

I'm so happy that both Jackson and David found each other

David had learned Gaelic. Jackson had learned how to play the piano.

They had laughed and lived and loved and learned.

And they had survived – one day at a time. The London Boys.

they survived.

I know I'm always key smashing and screaming but these words, these lines, all these chapters mean so so much to me.

“You’ll write to me, won’t you?” David asked, hugging Jackson closely.

“No,” Jackson replied. “I will FaceTime you like a normal person, you weirdo!”

David laughed at that. “I prefer letters. They are more emotional.”

“I’ll text you,” Jackson countered. “With emojis.”

oh to have someone write me letters.

I love writing letters

once at the end of a school year, I wrote little letters to everyone in my class anonymously. even the people who had been mean to me. that was like 1-2 years after my transfer to that school and everyone practically hated me but I wanted to do something nice because who knows what someone is going through. I ended up not putting them in people's desks...

I threw them all away :)

but writing letters is superior

I often write my feelings down and give the letter to someone rather than talk to someone

if you receive a letter from me or a custom-made gift...you have reached my ultimate friendship

oh my god. THIS IS HOW I SHOULD TALK TO ONE OF MY FRIENDS ABOUT MY FEELINGS

It's kind of been a mess between us and I want to talk to her but I didn't know how to.

this is why i shouldn't send asks-

JACKSON CATCHING UP ON MAX AND DAVID

“You know what it means,” Jackson grinned harder. “Also, if that wanker tries to break your heart, I will break his face.”

“You know he is the Consul’s son?” David giggled.

“I’ve done it once and I will do it again,” Jackson shrugged. “He better treat you right.”

"wanker"

I HAVE A BRITISH ONLINE FRIEND AND THEY CALLED OUR AMERICAN ONLINE FRIEND A WANKER

AND OUR OTHER BRITISH FRIEND JOINED IN

WHILE ALL THE NON-BRITISH PEOPLE WERE LIKE "huh"

Lexi had cut her hair even shorter. Her girlfriend apparently got something called an undercut.

“Just in case someone dared to assume we were straight,” she had winked at him.

how many years has this fake dating been going on...

CENTURION SELENA

fterA the twins went to bed, David stepped out of the institute and went looking for his heart.

"went looking for his heart"

OH FUCK I FORGOT TO JOIN MY CLASS

MAX STOP DEPLETING YOUR SELF GODDAMN

And then somewhere along the way, Max’s heartbeat had become the steadiest thing in David’s life.

Max, with all his chaos and drama and danger, had become the steadiest thing in David’s life.

oh my god that's a parallel from canon

“Tell me why.”

“Ain't nothing but a heart break!!"

Max-

Max could make fireballs that killed demons on the spot. He could summon things from anywhere. He could heal people with his eyes closed. He was one of the youngest warlocks allowed to visit the spiral labyrinth.

Max was a warlock in every sense. A good one. A great one even.

he is so talented...

Only idiots would underestimate Magnus Bane’s power.

EXACTLY

He is probably going to be Consul like next week.”

David chuckled. “Next week?”

next week????

“Yeah, his smoking habits,” Max rolled his eyes.

Rafael wasn’t the smoker in the family. He knew who it was, but David would never open his mouth. It wasn’t his secret to tell.

this keeps on getting better

“It’s my hair!” David laughed.

“And you’re my David!” Max argued. “I say you are not allowed to grow your hair.”

MY DAVID

“I don’t want to downworld-splain it to you.”

Max blinked and then laughed. “You don’t want to what?”

“Downworld-splain,” David mumbled. “It’s when shadowhunters explain downworlders how to be downworlders.”

they were SO close to kissing

I'm gonna get in there and lock them in a closet together and tell them to FUCKING GET WITH IT

Remember who you are. Remember where you stand.

remember who you are. remember where you stand...

I know this is supposed to be about portals.

OH MY GOD THEY KISSED

THEY KISSED

IM SO CLOSE TO SCREAMING CLASS AND EVERYONE OUTSIDE THIS ROOM BE DAMNED

OH MY GOD DAVID FELL

reminds me of when alec fell down the stairs-

OH MY GOD I'M GONNA SCREAM

WE'RE GONNA GET MORE MAVID CONTENT SOON I'M SCREAMING INTERNALLY UYDRVFY7VSDU7UYVFSDUYGCADUYIGJCDSHJKGDVCSUGISDVHVF

ok, I have a computer assignment to get to and tests to study for. BUT I LOVED THIS CHAPTER SO SO MUCH!! THEY FINALLY KISSED I'M SO HAPPY!!!!!

Also I know I tend to go off track and you can totally ignore that. i just go crazy. BYEE

This live blog gives me so much life you don't even know. I am go glad you enjoyed the chapter. I love hearing you rant about it. It's refreshing lol.

And I looooooove the lil anecdotes you share in between. Also wtf is a programming class like nobody wants to learn programme what kind of hetero nonsense I-

FINISH YOUR ASSIGNMENTS AND STUDY FOR YOUR TESTS I'LL SEE YOU SOON :)

#lbaf

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shrike-nest · 3 years

Text

D&D Character Ask Post

In Honor of D&D, Here are 100 Questions answered about my character Alistair. Done from a prompt reposted by @mechmech and @scatterpatter , and also gonna tag my DM @aerial-ace97

What Does He Smell like: Ozone, Sandalwood, Pine

Voice: A light baritone, sometimes slipping into a bit of a lit from his native island (similar to a Scottish brogue/Irish lit)

Motivator: Before he met his group? Power and Adrenaline. Now? Redemption.

Most embarrassing memory: (TW: Animal Death) He doesn’t really remember this as he was terribly drunk at the time, but he and his crew stopped in a city that held goats as a sacred animal. With a terribly “bright” idea, he wondered how far a goat could fly? Because goats fly. Throws the goat off of the third floor of a building. Then proceeds to have a not very respectful Coffin Dance-style funeral for said goat.

How does he react to pain: Lots of swearing and anger.

What does he wear: He wears dragon scale armor that has three deep gouges in it from where he was previously killed. A faded and slightly ragged admiral style coat on top, leather breeches, and give this man some high calf pirate boots. He also always wears a green headband to keep his hair back, and occasionally an eyepatch to hide his demonic eye.

Most positive relationship: In terms of character development, it might be Torvid, as Torvid inspires Alistair to be a better moral person. In terms of wholesomeness? His partner/hopefully soon fiancé, Atwater. Atwater was able to show Alistair that he can have positive love in his life, without having to fight so hard for it.

The weirdest thing he has ever eaten: Corren’s cooking

Sleep: He suffers from nightmares and now more recently night terrors. Because he technically doesn’t need to sleep from effects of his class, he often chooses not to. However, when he does sleep, he sleeps hard, snores lightly, and octopus cuddles anything in his bed.

Favorite food/ kinda food: He actually really loves a dish similar to pao de queijo (Brazillian Cheese Bread).

Most insecure about: His ability of being a leader.

Like to wear: He enjoys fairly tight fitting clothing to prevent too much flapping when he flies or moves around quickly.

How do they react to feelings of guilt: Denial and self doubt

React to betrayal: A very quick and violent anger that chills to a long lasting and cold hatred. He doesn’t forgive easily.

Greatest achievement: After being mutinied against by his former crew, being wanted and supported as a leader for his current adventuring party

Too little sleep: Pretty robotic, but he doesn’t get exhausted anymore or feel any physical effects of not getting sleep due to his class.

What are they like drunk: He’s a very cheerful and boisterous drunk. Makes and laughs at many jokes. Can fall into a melancholy pretty easily though if he thinks on certain thoughts too long. Deflects with humor!

Music likes: 80s hair band music, and 70s-80s rock.

Right or left-handed: Right handed

Fears: He’s claustrophobic, but also has a fear of being vulnerable and getting his heart broken again.

Favorite weather: Sunny Day with a slight chill.

Favorite color: He really likes blue.

Collect anything: Well technically he used to collect gold and other high priced artifacts. He doesn’t really collect anything anymore.

Hot or cold weather: This man controls the weather. He enjoys his thermostat of life to be at a nice 70 degrees F.

Eye color: His natural eye color is an emerald green. His left eye is a demon cat eye, with a gold iris and black sclera.

Race/ ethnicity: He’s a human in the world of Sekrezia, but in IRL, he’s probably northern UK.

Hair color: Ginger/Auburn, with some sun-bleached streaks in it.

Happy where they are currently: … Well his adopted sister and brother just died in the last game so nah. BUT- as kind of a whole, he’s happy to be where he is now as a person compared to how he used to be.

Morning person: Yup. He tends to wake with the sun if he sleeps, and once he’s awake- he’s awake.

Sunrise or sunset: He loves the sunset. It calms and amazes him that he survived another day.

Messy or organized: He’s messy. Kind of an ADHD procrastination kind of messy.

Pet peeves: Disloyalty, undeserved ego trips, other weather veins that mess with his control of the weather,

Objects of significant importance: O’Malley, his halberd. He earned his weapon when he became a captain, and it has saved his life numerous times after.

Least favorite food: After being stuck in a cave for over a year? Anything with mushrooms.

Least favorite color: He’s not a fan of dark reds or browns. Reminds him too much of dried blood. (oooh edgelord)

Least favorite smell: Cauterized Flesh, Rotting Fish

The last time they cried: Last game. But before that? When he found out that Torvid killed his father. Before before that? When Atwater died. Before before before that? When he woke up alone in the desert after the mutiny.

Were they with anyone when they cried: His party. His party and both sides of the war that was going on. And no one.

One time they got injured: He actually died in a fight with a dragon, not with the dragon, but with a bat crony of the dragon.

Scars: He’s got a scar in the shape of a jagged p on his right cheek, a claw scar from when his eye was gouged out, and he also has the marks from the bat crony when he died. Alistair also has lightning scars on his arms that led to minor nerve damage that occurred when he first was learning how to use his magic.

Mental health issues: ADHD, Depression, Anxiety

Bad habits: Lashing out when he doesn’t know how to process his emotions

Why might someone dislike him: … Lemme get the list. So if we ignore the fact that he used to be a feared sky pirate, earning the nickname “Orphaner of the Skies”… he can be a flippant asshole sometimes. He can often forget to stay in touch and update people on important topics. Also, some may dislike him because he insists on being their dad (*cough* CORREN *cough*)

Why might someone love him: Alistair is very loyal to those he trusts and he can often fall into caretaker type tendencies.

Believe in ghosts: Yeah. He’s seen them and fought them. Also dated one.

Anyone they would trust with their life: Mecha, Corren, Tristan, Atwater, Jerry, Mephistopheles, and Torvid.

Romantically interested in anyone: Atwater!

Dating/ Married: He is currently dating Atwater

Like surprises: Not really

Birthday: His weave day is in Summer, Sibelya 13th.

Celebrate their birthday: He used to. Doesn’t really anymore, mostly because he hasn’t had much reason to celebrate or the time.

Family: His parents are dead, but he still has his adopted aunt Imelda. He also views Tristan as his brother, Corren as his little brother, Mecha as his sister. Atwater is his romantic partner, and he is now the step father of Atwater’s child, Crestwell. He also is the adopted father of Liam (deceased) and Liam’s twin sister, Serana.

Close to their family: Yes

MBTI type: ENTP

Zodiac signs: His Sekrezian Sign is Xamatang, The Coming Storm

Hogwarts house: Gryffindor

Alignment; Chaotic Neutral but he’s steadily making his way towards Chaotic Good

Nightmares: Yes. Often about his ex, Ghost. He also has nightmares about losing those he considers family.

View on death: If it happens, it happens. Once someone is at peace, leave them be.

Something they always laugh at: Seeing his group smile and joke around.

When bored, what do they do: Fly, tinker with magic, practice magic, research magic.

Enjoy the outside: Very much so.

Accent: I can’t replicate it, but I imagine it’s somewhere between a Scottish and Irish accent. However it has faded as he hasn’t been home in a very long time.

Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, the first reaction: *Poke it*, *Look at it*, *Look around*… *Shrug*, My cake now.

If they knew they were going to die what would they do/ say: He would find his party, if he can- gives them hugs, and hopefully be able to die watching the sunset. “Find what makes you happy and hold on to it. You all deserve to have happiness in your lives.”

Feelings about sex: He likes it. He also has a pretty damn high libido.

Sexuality: Bisexual

Squeamish around blood: Somewhat. It makes him uncomfortable now because he’s scared that he likes the sight of it still.

Anything they find gross: Rotting bodies and decaying bodies.

TV trope: Father Figure, Tragic Backstory, Anti-Hero

Enjoy helping people: Yes, he finds it comforting, like a form of redemption.

Allergies: Minor shellfish allergy

Pet: Does Meph count as a pet? I mean, he usually hangs around Alistair as a cat.

Quick to anger: Depends on the situation, but yes.

How patient is he: Not very. He gets very jittery and anxious easily. He’s getting slightly better at that.

Good at cooking: Somewhat, he tends to overdo it on the spice.

Favorite insult:” It’s cute when you try.”

How do they act when happy: The biggest doofiest smile, and he can’t help but laugh occasionally.

What do they do when they learn about others’ fears: He keeps it secret, but tends to go out of his way to help them through it, or help them avoid their fears.

Trustworthy: If you earn his trust, yes. A million times in return.

Do they try to hide their emotions: If it benefits him? Yes. And he’s damn good at it. But if he feels it’s not necessary to do so, his heart is on his sleeve.

Exercise regularly: Yes. His constitution is ridiculous and so he often finds ways to keep up and improve his stamina and strength even further.

Comfortable with the way they look: Yeah. He can get a lil cocky about it. But this is a man who uses bar soap on his hair.

Features they find attractive on others: Eyes and hands.

Personalities they find attractive: He likes those that can keep up with him intellectually, but also on a wittier level as well. He really views self-confidence as attractive.

Do they like sweet foods: Yes.

Age: He just turned 42.

Tall or short: He’s 6’0”

Glasses or contacts: Nah

Consider herself attractive: Yup

Sense of humor: Sexual humor, dad jokes ftw, but can also throw in some dark and self-deprecating humor nowadays.

What mood are they in most often: Most recently, a sort of determined melancholia. But he used to be very self-assured, confident, and flippant.

What angers them: Child abuse, betrayal, hurting those he cares about.

Outlook on life: “Just keep going. Roll with the punches. Because that sun is going to rise again, and you’re going to get to try again, try something new, find something new.”

What makes them sad or depressed: Thinking of those he has lost, thinking of Ghost, falling into his own insecurities.

Greatest weakness: He often jumps into situations without thinking them through. He tends to be very “leap before he looks”

Greatest strength: His determination and resiliency

Something they regret: Losing contact with his crew and Imelda, not being a better leader in his eyes, his past of piracy, and in some ways- all his deals with Mephistopheles, even the one that granted him his magic.

Biggest accomplishment: Isn’t this the same as greatest achievement?

Favorite memory: Sitting by the campfire with his group and all of them laughing, joking, and smiling with each other. With the good ol occasional ribbing at Corren’s expense.

#D&D #Alistair Stormcrown #Sekrezia #The F.U.C.K.s

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

The Stars Made Us (Part 7)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge – You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 2438

Warnings: angst and language throughout

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @dontshootmespence, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong and @arrow-guy and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

~~~~~~~~~~~

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

The next morning, you were about to meet Hank after the routine you’d set up when you saw Charles make his way towards the alcohol in the study.

“No,” you said sternly, following him in and taking the bottle from him. “No alcohol before noon.”

“I beg your pardon? This is my house. You are a guest here, and if I want to drink from sun up to sun down I bloody will,” he said, anger clear in his tone and frown as his eyes raked your form.

“Just until noon,” you repeated calmly. “Surely your serum will hold out until then? Why don’t you go set up a game of chess and I’ll be in the library to meet you shortly.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to distract me,” he noted, his face a mask of humor.

“Good thing you don’t know any better,” you teased with a tight smile. “Please? I know it’s a passion of yours and I’ve always wanted to play.”

“Wait, you’ve never played chess?”

You shook your head, innocence wrapping your face and gesture. “No.”

“Why not? Hasn’t everyone?”

“I was much more of a gin rummy kind of girl,” you explained.

“Ah, I see. Not in my wheelhouse but I could give that a go,” he offered.

“I’d love to show you… So, uh, off to the library then?” you asked.

He smiled and laughed. “Yes, I suppose we are meeting in there. Five minutes?”

“Sounds perfect,” you said with a smile.

He swept around you and as soon as he was out of sight you broke out into a sprint to find Hank.

“Hey, where’d you disappear to? I’ve started on extracting the--”

“I can’t help. Not this morning.”

“What? Why not?”

“Charles was going to start drinking and the only thing I could think of to divert his attention was a game of chess so… we’re playing chess.”

His eyebrows shot up. “So while I’m in here, you’re going to be playing a game?”

“I know, I’m sorry, but you want him to get better right? Maybe it’s best he has some company with humans rather than with a glass and a needle.”

Hank’s face fell.

“I’m sorry, Hank, I know you’re doing the best you can. I just… We need to keep him focused and away from the alcohol. Think you can work on this without me?”

“Yeah, I’ll do my best,” he said, a touch of disappointment in his tone.

“Thanks, you’re the best. I’ll try to be back as fast as I can.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he sadly replied. “Just… go keep him company.”

An expression of sad sympathy colored your face. All you did was nod before dashing off to the library. Charles was sitting on the right side, a small table set up with chess as he sat there staring at the board.

You were surprised at how your heart felt every time you laid eyes on him. Even in his worst state, this man made you feel… grounded. It was as if you were walking around half-empty, then you got close to him and everything felt right with the world. Even if he was drug and alcohol dependent and a bit of an asshole, just being in his presence, everything was okay.

You walked in and sat down across from him, honestly a little nervous. Knowing this man through a screen was one thing, but sitting down across from him, it was an entirely different feeling. A different dynamic, especially since it had been a year since you’d even spoken.

How much had he changed? How had you changed? Talking every day with one person, you knew what to expect. He was in grad school, you were in residency. He was working towards teaching, you were dealing with patients. It was a no brainer. You swapped stories of graduations, accolades, promotions, and victories. What stories would you swap now? How his adopted sibling had abandoned him, his spine neglecting his ability to walk, his school ripped away from him, not a friend in the world except the two people in this mansion with him. What kind of stories would those be?

“Alright,” you started cheerily, “how do we play?”

“So you’ve really never played?” he asked with a bemused grin.

“No. I started to learn the rules once, from my uncle, but the idea of losing pieces just to win an endgame... “You shook your head. “It seems barbaric.”

He laughed gently. “There’s nothing barbaric about it. It’s a highly intellectual game that involves strategy and knowing your opponent.”

You looked up through your lashes as you glanced down at the board. “And you think you know me?”

“I’d like to think I do, after ten years.”

You made a noise of contemplation. “Hmm, I was under the impression you didn’t remember a thing about me.”

“Wanting to forget you and forgetting you are two vastly different things, Y/N.”

You smiled.

“You’ve never said my name before,” you noted quietly, your heart fluttering and warming. He might not think it was important, or nice at all, but you’d waited a very long time to hear this.

You were on a very different side of this romance. It appeared Charles wasn’t ready for it, but you were very much prepared to jump right in. Every little sentimental action he did, every little way he tilted his mouth, the way his eyes penetrated your very soul, the way his accent fell off his lips -- it was practically intoxicating. Here you were, swimming like a school girl like the night you found out you had a soulmate; yet it seemed for Charles you were just a guest to interact with, to mildly entertain.

It tore your heart asunder.

“I’m slowly learning to right some of my wrongs,” he said in a soft voice. “Alright, let’s see, so you have the pawn and the pawn can move like this, see?” he began and he took about ten minutes explaining the game to you, being very patient.

“You ready to begin?”

“Sure.”

So the two of you sat, playing chess, not saying a word for about twenty minutes, only halfway through the game.

“So, did you play this when you had your powers?” you inquired cautiously.

“Actually,” he began, making his move, taking your rook, “I did.”

“Did you use them?”

“I tried not to,” he explained, “but it’s like music playing in the background. You can pick up on things people are thinking if it’s loud, distinct, or stands out. So sometimes I would hear what they were thinking, sometimes I didn’t. I tried to ignore it.”

“How did you learn to control them?”

“Practice. Quieting them was...is… the hardest part. Once that’s done, I can do the rest easily.”

“And all the other… facets, like accessing memories, how did you learn how to do that? On a girlfriend or?”

He laughed, his eyes never leaving the board as you studied your moves as well. “Are you trying to probe to see if I had a girlfriend previous to our… relationship?”

You gave a quick half smile, filled with amusement. “I wasn’t consciously, but I suppose it slipped out. You’re avoiding the question, should I assume I’m right?”

“You know, Dr. Y/L/N, not everything or everyone has to be psychoanalyzed,” he countered teasingly.

“I know, I know. I just… I’m curious about that part of your life, that’s all.”

“For your information, I didn’t test on my girlfriend. I actually used my step-brother. When he bullied me, afterwards, I’d probe his mind. I realized I could access memories, get into his head, and learned in there. At first, it was an accident, and I couldn’t break the link… but then when we went to sleep, it broke. Later, I purposely tried to connect, disconnect, and read thoughts. Until his father died, and they moved out that is…”

“Did Raven ever meet Cain?”

“No. No, Raven came to us a few months after Cain’s father died and he moved away to live with his aunt.”

“I see. So you practiced on your abusive step brother?”

“It was all I had. Doing that to my mother felt wrong, Raven asked that I never do it to her, and with the kids at school I couldn’t tell if I was reading memories or fantasies. Your move by the way.”

“Oh, yes, right,” you said, snapping out of your sympathy induced trance. You made an arbitrary move before getting back to the conversation. “So no girlfriend?”

“Like a dog with a bone,” he muttered.

“I prefer the term persistent.”

“No, no girlfriend in the picture. Not for some time. I dated briefly, just after Harvard.”

“So… when you were seventeen?”

“Mhm. She was an undergrad. She wasn’t very mature though, so it was over before it began. I knew I wouldn’t find anyone on my level. I couldn’t even legally buy cigarettes but I had graduated college, so… the odds of me finding anyone worthy of my time were slim. Of course, that was before your scribbling showed up on my arm.”

“That wasn’t scribbling,” you accused with a laugh, fake offense in your tone. “I put a lot of time, thought, and effort into that, thank you.”

“If that’s your example of a lot of time and effort then maybe I still haven’t met my intellectual match, hmm?” he joked.

You narrowed your eyes before taking his bishop.

“Maybe you spoke too soon,” you challenged as he glanced up at you and you raised an eyebrow.

“Perhaps I did. And you?”

“What about me?”

“Did you have a highschool sweetheart before you knew about me?”

“Oh, well… I don’t really see how it’s relevant--”

“Double standard, Y/N. That isn’t very nice. I was probed about my entire romantic career but I can’t get so much as a--”

“Fine. Yes. I dated. Two guys in high school. One lasted about eight months from January of sophomore year to the beginning of junior year.”

“And the second?”

“Four months of junior year.”

“No one dazzled you senior year?”

“Just you,” you hummed, not thinking before you answered.

“Oh, just me?” he asked, catching your little slip up.

Your cheeks heated before you smiled. “Yes, if I’m being totally honest.”

He was looking at you, curiosity and merriment burning in his face. He’d only glanced at you three times during this whole game. In a way, you were thankful. When he gave you a direct look you felt like you always had to overshare. When he was looking down at the board you could focus on answering carefully, filtering. When he was staring at you, it was like truth serum.

“So what happened with the other two?” he questioned as his attention drifted back down to the board.

“One was determined that I follow him, you know, go to the college he had his eye on, despite what I wanted. So we parted ways.” You made a move. “And the other liked a friend of mine more so we mutually ended things.”

“Sounds like you haven’t had any bad luck with men, so that’s good.”

“Sounds like you haven't had any luck with women. One woman throughout your whole life? You’re thirty-two.”

“Yes, so?”

“Well, if you only dated at seventeen--”

“Y/N, I met you, my soulmate, at twenty-one. I didn’t date after that, so, most of my life, has been with you… Romantically, that is, if that’s what you want to call this.”

“You swore off dating for me?”

“Of course,” he said as if it were obvious, “didn’t you do the same for me?”

“Yeah without question.”

“So why do you find it odd that I did the same?”

“Well,” you started, nervously wringing your hands, “you’re you, you know? Handsome, accomplished, driven, confident.”

“And you’re just a wet rag? Or what am I missing? You’re all those things as well, except handsome. I’d choose a different word.”

“And what word might that be?”

“Nothing short of stunning.”

His words made you blush quickly and smile to yourself.

“So tell me, why did you commit to us but were worried I didn’t?” he wondered.

“You just have so much more going for you than I do.”

“That’s not true. I know quite a bit about you and you’re quite the catch. Not to mention, I’m not like that. I was dedicated to you the moment we encountered each other.”

“I’m glad to know you felt the same about this.”

“Of course,” he concurred before the two of you finished the game, with him beating you easily.

“Ugh, see that’s why I don’t like that vile game.”

He chuckled. “It’s a fantastic game. You did quite well for your first time. I bet you’ll beat me next time.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, loudly. “Not likely.”

“You should believe in yourself more.”

“I believe in myself plenty, except when it comes to strategy games.”

“But you play gin rummy?”

“Well that’s entirely different,” you assured with a smile as the two of you cleared the chess game.

“Is it now? Well let’s just see. I’ve got some cards in my desk drawer there. Show me how to play and we’ll see if it’s all that different.”

“Okay, sure. You got to show your prowess, I’ll show you mine.”

“There’s that feistiness I missed,” he cheered as you got up and got the cards, his words making you stop for half a second.

So he did miss you...

“Okay, so the game is easy, especially compared to that mini war game we just played,” you joked and he smiled. Knowing you could do that to him lit you up inside.

You explained the game, all the rules and played. He caught on quickly, which didn’t surprise you - he was practically a genius. What did surprise you however, was that he beat you at your own game.

“How the hell did you--?” you started, flabbergasted, staring down at the table.

“All strategy games are the same, Y/N. I’ve been playing them for a while.”

“But this is my game and you, you just beat me.”

“Oh, don’t be a sore loser. You’ll do fine next time.”

“I should’ve done fine this time,” you mumbled. “Well I need to get dinner made, so I’ll be off. See you for dinner?”

He nodded and smiled and you left, reflecting on the good bit of information you’d learned that day. And focusing on how this might not be as bad as you thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forever Tag:

@essie1876

@magpiegirl80

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

@iamwarrenspeace

@marvel-imagines-yes-please

@superwholocked527

@missinstantgratification

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@rda1989

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@thefridgeismybestie

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@damalseer

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Charles Xavier

@bohemianrhapsody86

@lenawiinchester

TSMU

@tilltheendwilliwrite

#the stars made us #charles xavier x reader #charles xavier fic #charles xavier #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange fic #stephen strange #hank mccoy

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eradicatetehnormal · 3 years

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Rambling About Sk8 Infinity 'Cause I Just Caught Up

So yeah, when I initially watched it, literally my first reaction was "aw man, it looks like this show will have no real consequences for any of the main characters' actions, that's the typical shonen formula I guess." Then, as if a direct frick you to me, there WERE consequences. It didn't come from the reckless skating or beefing with scary competitors, no, it came from the person who's kinda the hero of the series, Langa, being TOO good at fulfilling his role and leaving Reki to feel left behind and like he can't match up to the rest of his comrades. Now this is resolved rather quickly within the span of 3 episodes, but what I think made it stand out to me was the way it was resolved and the perspective that this conflict was seen from. You see I think Reki's little mini arc here goes to show you the shonen hero from the perspective of his weaker companion. We've had stuff like this before but I think it's special here because 1.It shows the perspective of the weaker comrade and STAYS there. 2. Even when these characters get frustrated at their lack of strength, there's usually a scene where the protag will say some pseudo-inspirational garbage at this character. This is never genuinely done by the writers to empower the weaker character. It's done to make the hero stand out even more for being a nice person ON TOP of being a badass shonen hero. (man, aren't we getting the whole package...>:/ ) and the way the resolve this, isn't by having same "manly" fight scene where the weaker character tries to prove their worth or some sh*t, no, Reki and Langa talk it out after Reki remembered why he skates. And why wouldn't they be able to do that? They're friends :) It's moments like these that kinda almost make the show feel more like a Shoujo than a Shounen to me. Good series is good series, 7.7/10 to bullet point the things I didn't like -Langa isn't really shown to have any flaws or insecurites, it is only season 1 though

-the character design is low-key kinda weak. There's a reason why I keep comparing them to Katekyo Hitman Reborn and Kingdom Hearts characters, it's because their designs are super generic that you mix them with character designs from other anime and anime-like media in your head. Even with the designs I do like, Reki and Miya's, I feel like their silhouettes aren't that interesting. You can black them out and put them next to any spiky haired character (with reki) and any character with cat ears (with Miya), and they'd blend in together with all the other character if it weren't for those skateboards -creepy villian. Man with bad touch... (seriously though, why is the default for making a villian scarier, making them rapey? they did it with Sephiroth in ff7 and Scar from the lion king if you saw that deleted song...It's weird) Alright now lets's talk about the important thing here. The real reason I kept watching, and it's not the skateboarding scenes (though those are well directed). It's, T H E Y. Not even because of the ship, but because their relationship is just really cute, healthy, and just like wholesome my dude....BUT NOW LET'S TALK ABOUT THE SHIPPING ASPECT SHALL WE?

wow, there's so much gay in these two, they could rid the world of heterosexuality with a doom impending glitter gay bomb lol. Seriously though, I knew everyone shipped them so I expected them to be extremely close and maybe have a little bit of not-straight implications. Shounen tends to have moments between its male characters that are very intimate and can be seen as romantic, regaurdless if that was the intention or not, but I didn't expect the implications to be THIS blatant. I feel like even the "dude-bros" had a hard time trying to keep it straight. From the very beginning they get along almost immediately and never really went through any real rivalry phase. Even when Reki avoided Langa and quit skating, it wasn't because of any bitter feelings towards Langa, but because he was getting insecure and felt like he couldn't stand to him. For most of the series, they continue to inspire each other throughout the series and become each others main motivations for waking up happy and just skating. One of the biggest examples is the scene where Reki races with ADAM and another being when Langa races with Kojiro. Even when Reki gets, dang-near molested and the race track and loses courage, it's Langa's words that reminded him of what he was fighting for and gets his head back in the game, even if he does end up losing. With Langa, it wasn't until he saw Reki's face and heard his voice from the crowd, did he start to feel passionate about winning the race, as his hearts not in skating, if he can do it with the person who got him into it (he really asked Reki if they could skate for infinity ah *cries*) (It kind of makes me wonder if the original manga writer wrote a bunch of BL before writing Sk8 and is stuck in this awkard phase were they are literally incapable of writing to male main characters who AREN'T into each other or if they are just going to make Reki and Langa a couple. I'm gonna guess it's the first one, because let's be real, when companies see that people ship a gay pairing, they WILL pander to the fraction that ships it shamelessly and then will never go through with it in the end. I'd be happy to be wrong here though.)

Aw yes, one more thing before I go. I like to think that these two scenes were meant to parallel each other:

uhhh Okay, so you can barely tell but these pictures are basically Reki, Langa, and Adam tangoing with each other on skateboards. I like to interpret as Langa being able to turn what has been seen to be spirit breaking for Reki into something positive, if only for a brief moment. A more intellectual queer could put the relationship between these 3 through a queer theory lens and say that they represent being in vs being out of the closet, a metphor for grooming, or perhaps even trying to reclaim your youth, but to be frank, my a** is not fat enough, nor is my brain big enough to be this person.

#sk8 episode 10 #sk8 the infinity #sk8 langa #sk8 reki #sk8 renga #he's still a sk8r boi :')#*gets on one knee* Reki will you be my sk8r boi?#shipping

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deus-ex-knoxina · 5 years

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neil josten, music major

so neil has to fulfill a fuckin fine arts requirement. UGH.

he is not a fan of this because it is not exy, it is not practical, it is not useful, it is not related to math he will never need it

but the administration thinks it’s necessary for some fuckin reason, so. he looks over all his options and chooses a music theory class, because out of all of his options it seems like the one least likely to actually make him do art. like, theory. that’s the opposite of practice. right???

but eventually he discovers, as so many disappointed music majors do, that music theory is fULL OF FUCKING MATH. SERIES AND SET THEORY EVERYWHERE. M A T H.

unlike the other people in his class, who are generally either a) music majors or b) non-music majors who are also not math majors and really just wanted to get this GE out of the way, neil is t h r i l l e d

he just happened to stumble on the ONE branch of fine arts, as far as he knows, that actually contains math. so this is like. him just using stuff he learned in math classes two semesters ago. the professor loves him

this is long but tumblr is absolutely refusing to let me put in a read more im so sorry. pretend it was here

(the professor also isn’t quite sure why neil was completely apathetic about the class until she introduced the concept of a harmonic series, since a harmonic series is not a very intellectually exciting topic, but he’s engaged and putting in effort so! not gonna question that too hard!)

and listen, at this point, neil knows his major doesn’t matter. he’s going to be a pro exy player. his classes are just a way of giving him a few extra years to train before he starts looking at contracts.

and he is someone who appreciates intellectual challenges. this is a man who decided to major in math. math. and neil finds the whole concept of music theory interesting, because it’s so... irrelevant to survival? someone invented music, and then later on, someone decided to analyze music, and now it’s a whole ass field of study

he finds himself signing up for another music theory class for the next semester. presumably, it’ll get more complicated as he gets further in. more math.

also, music is something neil can’t quite work out how to conquer yet-- the subjectivity involved, and the understanding of phrasing and rhetoric, is exactly the same stuff he has trouble with in writing. his ear is nowhere near as good as most of the other people in the class, because neil has never been someone who listens to music a lot, if ever.

it’s a challenge. neil josten does not back down from that shit. he tackled learning languages, beat math into submission, and is well on his way to conquering exy. and he’s a little tempted to make music theory his newest victory.

the music theory major doesn’t have a lot of required courses, enough that he could easily switch majors. part of neil rebels at the idea of majoring in something so impractical-- the part of him that still remembers mary’s advice and yells at him for not hiding from cameras.

neil listens to this part of him, and he does what he does best: he tells it to fuck right off. as long as neil plays exy, it doesn’t matter what else he does.

he goes to that music theory I professor and asks her to be his advisor and help him figure out changing his major, and she is still completely mystified but at the same time strangely honored? because her class made this math major who was clearly only taking it for the GE completely change his mind and decide to study music. hELL yeah.

she does warn him that music is a time-intensive major, but neil dismisses that. he’s never really listened to music before. he can start. he doesn’t need to keep his ears open for cars or passerby while he’s out on runs anymore. he can listen to music then, and when he’s doing warmups

he also forces kevin and andrew to listen to the music out loud with him at night practice. they’re not amused but also what are they gonna say?? no?? this is a weird new Phase Of Neil but he’s happy so. they give in.

also the professor was 100% right and neil is swamped for the rest of his time in college, but he’s also not a performance major so that saves him a lot of time because he’s not taking lessons or anything.

and he starts figuring out how piano works. he has to search up some tutorials, but he knows how to read music now, and it’s not a great leap to translate sheet music to a piano. neil’s hands carry a lot of significance to him-- they’re scarred, and they are one of the keys to his success at exy-- but this is the first time he’s ever used them to produce something beautiful.

also, he uses them to produce things that are horrifically ugly. really just the worst noises you can imagine on a piano. because neil is still neil.

he also discovers that kevin is surprisingly good at picking up melodies, because at one point kevin corners him and angrily hums a few bars of a gluck piece before asking what the hell it’s called because it’s been stuck in his head for two days and he can’t get it out

neil desperately tries to get the orange notes to let him compose a new palmetto fight song for them. by the end of his third year, he wears them down.

at the foxes’ first game in neil’s senior year, fifth-year andrew takes one step into the inner court for warmups and says, ‘did you fucking write that?’

he sure did and neil josten is like a proud mama listening to the orange notes play their new fight song.

he yells out some notes during the game. christy is half a beat off for like half of the b section and she’s messing up the other trumpets. he likes the extra flourishes the drum section has added. the backliner marking him is utterly baffled

unsurprisingly, he still finds a way to make his senior thesis about sports

#neil josten #music major!neil #aftg #this got loooong

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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years

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To Tell You The Truth Part Nine

Fandom: Prospect [2018]

Pairing: Ezra/Prospector!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Full tilt part two, the Tiltening. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @renegademustelid @wrestlingfae @zombiexbody @sporadic-fics @rzrcrst @lackofhonor @the-feckless-wonder @arrowswithwifi @fioccodineveautunnale @absurdthirst @cryptkeepersoul @fleetwoodmactshirt @88dragon06 @roxypeanut @walkerchick007 @peggers-n-beggers @robbinholland @chrisbostonevans @cinewhore @sarcasmisakindofmagic @phenomenaaa

(I’m hoping the tags work, but we’re getting back into the area of browser crashing D: I apologize! )

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

"I did not realize that I would cause you to swoon." Ezra's voice sounded miles away. You moaned softly, feeling a hand stroke your forehead. "Peace. Be still, gentle soul. Did I urge you on with ill-advised fervor…?"

"No way." You croaked, forcing your heavy eyes open. You could still feel your core flexing, inner walls thrumming with aftershocks. "That was incredible." You continued dazedly. "Hi. Wow."

He smiled down at you, his blatant relief warming your entire body. "So you were insensible for good reason, then. In which case, I'm enthralled." You moved to try and sit up, but Ezra shook his head. His hand trailed down over your abdomen, coming to rest on the scar from Inumon's bayonet. He simply rubbed his fingers back and forth over the skin, his eyes distant with thought. He was uncharacteristically silent and you swallowed hard, trying to muster up the courage to speak.

"It feels like it's from another lifetime." You murmured finally. His gaze snapped up to your face, perplexing you with the sheer depth of the sorrow that you glimpsed there. "The whole Green is...it seems so far away now, I guess." Uncertainty settled in the longer Ezra just stared. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing! Nothing is wrong, gentle soul. I regret to inform you that I tend towards the ruminative these days. One of my many character flaws, amplified by the current safety and stability we luxuriate in." He tried to brush off your concern, but his fingers trembled where they touched you.

You carefully covered his hand with your own, lacing your fingers through his after a moment. "You're thinking so hard that I can hear it." You teased softly as you managed to scoot into an upright position.

Ezra looked away guiltily, his thumb rubbing over the back of your knuckles. He seized the glass of water that was on his nightstand (had he panicked and fetched it while you were coming back around?), passing it to you as if he was an improvisational actor buying himself time with a well-placed stage prop.

You obligingly took several sips while he collected himself, somewhat bolstered by the fact that he of all people was on uncertain footing.

"I am not a gentle man by nature," Ezra admitted finally, his voice ragged, "and I fear that in my eagerness, I may...I do not desire to harm you as you have been harmed in the past. I am not used to...I am...indelicate." He muttered, his thoughts clearly in disarray. "I'm at a loss. What do I do?"

"Can I at least see you?" You requested a bit shyly. Instead of panicky trepidation, excitement and arousal knotted in your stomach. You wanted this, you wanted to see.

"I can't refuse such an innocuous request, even if I fear the outcome." Ezra's hands moved to undo the button on his jeans, then stilled on his thighs before he could complete the task. "To be entirely candid with you, gentle soul, to...to tell you the truth, as I rarely have in my life, as one battered floater to another, I…" He paused, leaning towards you on the bed. His hands cupped your face, tilting your head slightly so he could kiss you again.

"Are you alright?" You whispered against his lips.

His exhale sounded suspiciously like a sob. "You'll have to forgive me if I seem pensive. I bandy with demons both in my mind and without."

"Ezra…" you sighed, slipping your hands up into his hair.

"I would gladly perish to keep you safe from ever being harmed again. I know that with an ugly, ironclad certainty." Ezra said quietly. "But if I am the one who causes that hurt, if I am the aggressor…you must see the dilemma that dogs my footsteps, gentle soul."

"I want this. I want you."

"And when you do not want me? A man like myself does not touch beauty for long, gentle soul. Such wondrous things have slipped through my fingers time and again." He chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound. "With good reason, I will never deny. I am not a man deserving of earthly delights. I would rather I display what I promised to you. Namely, selfless ministrations, and I shall not muddy the proverbial waters with my own tepid affections."

Your heart broke at his outward nonchalance, at the acceptance in his words. He believed what he said, and that might have been the worst part of hearing him speak. You could understand why he would feel this way, for all that it made your heart sink. "Okay." You nodded, catching his wrists before he could pull away. "I get it."

He quirked a brow at you, flexing his hands pointedly in your grip. "Oh? Dare I ask what has led you to such a confident statement?"

You didn't reply, tugging his arm to drag him down to the bedspread with you. Ezra went willingly, though he was still visibly confused. You tucked him into your side and a moment after you released his hands, his warm palm slid across your stomach. You hummed low in your throat, flicking him in the arm. He halted, his forehead furrowing and hand going still. You brought your own palm to rest on his chest, fingers swirling around his right nipple. Ezra bit his lip, nervously shifting his weight as you simply drew a circle over and over again.

The motion was soothing in its repetition and you slowly, slowly felt Ezra stop thinking so much, as strange as that was to say. His shoulders relaxed, fraction by fraction, even as his cock pushed insistently against your hip through his jeans. "You don't have to believe me, at least not right away." You began lightly. "I know you're worried, and that worry is important. I'm not great with words, so I hope I'll be able to...kind of get you to understand."

Ezra nodded drowsily.

"So you're a good prospector, right? Scouting digs, working with a team, mining…" you ticked the list off on your fingers, making him chuckle.

"Survival took precedence, gentle soul. I wanted to eat, so I became a prospector. Many do. I'm not certain I follow your intellectual trail."

"You're so impatient, let me finish." You scolded, laughing when he kissed your knuckles in apology. "How good were you at actually mining, though? As in, what job did you have?"

"Before the last mutiny I was granted the illustrious position of 'dig surgeon', if that gives you any indication of my skill level." Ezra informed you, actually sounding genuinely proud. "I was responsible for the salvaging and refinin' of many different materials from a young age; took to it like a fish to water even though everyone always complained about it bein' tedious or 'grunt work'. I've always been fond of workin' with my hands, you see, for all my palavering."

"So you've harvested a lot of really important resources, yeah? Learned how to be patient? Learned when you needed delicacy?" You could almost sense the moment your point seemed to dawn on him, but you kept talking. "How many aurelac pulls have you ruined in your career? Y'know, if you had to estimate."

"Only one." Ezra answered you quietly. "My first attempt. I was unsteady with the blade. After that, I...I braced. My foreman at the time was not an individual of great charity or patience." He tapped the scar on his cheek. "He made certain I understood and felt the gravity of my mistake, naturally."

What an unhappy bit of information! Your heart broke anew for the man beside you, and you found yourself extending your hands to cradle his face once more. Ezra willingly settled his chin into your palms, but you felt him cringe hard when you pressed your lips to the scar on his cheekbone.

"It did not even hurt, per se, not in the moment. As I recall I was more startled by it than anything else. The sudden savagery, the way he lashed out at me, I...I'm afraid I am still a bit hand-shy on occasion due to that event." Ezra tried to smile. "How preposterous. You must think me quite the ferocious coward."

"Never." You replied firmly.

"So willing to accept my shortcomings! I would be more wary, were I you." The man warned, tapping the end of your nose.

"Listen, what I was trying to say is that you know how to be careful. You know when something is too important, and you know better than to risk it. You're not giving yourself enough credit."

"You are infinitely more precious to me than any mere dig pull, gentle soul." Ezra replied. "The rarest resource I've ever had fall into my hands." His fingers traced your facial features almost reverently. "I…"

"You won't hurt me. I know you won't." You took a breath. "You're not like him."

"Martyr's malfeasance," Ezra whispered, his voice rasping in his throat. The bewildered gratitude in his eyes was the same as it had been in the tent when you agreed to help save his arm, and the recollection nearly had you in tears. "I have worked in tandem with you previously, reaping dangerous rewards, writing stories and bringing you to your peak. May I...may I touch you again?"

"Again, and again, and again." You agreed with a trembling smile, your emotions running hot just beneath the surface. Ezra kissed you hungrily, rolling onto his knees and pressing your shoulders back against the mattress.

"I would love...to taste you." He breathed between nipping at your lips. "Permit me to slake my thirst on the pastoral bounty that is your body, gentle soul. Permit me to indulge my penchant for devouring."

"As much as you want." You gasped, whimpering when his mouth immediately latched onto your left breast.

Ezra nursed from you until you were writhing, pleading for him to move, his teeth gently teasing at your tormented bud. "I love you." He murmured. Your hand raked through his hair almost frantically at his words, and you bit down on your thumb to keep from sobbing out. Large hands framed your hips as he slid down your body, and Ezra cupped your thigh to encourage first your right leg, and then your left up over his shoulders.

Here it was. The moment of truth, his head bowed slightly as if in prayerful contemplation while he took in the sight of you. You barely managed to keep still, your flush comprised of equal parts arousal and embarrassment.

"My dreams pale in comparison to the beautiful reality of your form." Ezra groaned, the words a rumble in his chest. You covered your face as you felt his knuckles graze your slit, making your whole body tremble. "Kevva, the way you quake...is this alright, gentle soul?" He asked cautiously.

"M' fine, I'm just embarrassed." You admitted breathlessly.

"Why?" Ezra queried, and when you peeked at him through your fingers you saw his head cocked inquisitively to the side.

"I-I mean, everyone is about something, right?" You reasoned. "I'm not used to...um, this, that's all. It's never lasted this long."

"Ah." Ezra looked saddened, but the expression fled nearly as soon as you noticed it. "Am I...am I going too slow? Is it a drudgery?"

"What? No, gods no, Ezra you are…" You struggled to come up with the right word as you propped yourself up on your elbows, resorting to, "You're perfect," and a clumsy shrug. "You're so patient and good to me. I love you."

His expression lit up with a smile so genuine you felt tears sting your eyes, and his hand patted the outside of your thigh. "Perhaps I am bein' a bit too verbose for the bedroom." He allowed, giving you a wink. "I would love to give you a demonstration of what else my mouth can accomplish." The man inclined his head, his eyes never leaving yours. "May I?"

"Oh gods, please." You mumbled, your hands clutching the bedspread on either side of you.

You unintentionally braced yourself and he must have noticed, his fingers massaging slow, calming circles on your inner thighs to get your tense muscles to relax. "I have you, gentle soul. It's me." Ezra reminded you softly. "Keep your eyes open if you need to, put your hands in my hair if you need to. It's just me."

Hesitantly, you reached down and threaded your fingers through his shaggy hair. "Okay." You exhaled the word.

You felt his breath on your cunt and then his thumbs spread you open, the motion alone making your inner walls flex in eager anticipation. "Oh, look at you." Ezra sighed, the kiss he pressed to your clit nothing but a feather-light tease. His tongue raked over your entrance and you quivered, trying your best to keep from squirming.

Your wanton cry of delight when he finally, finally delved his tongue into your pussy made him moan in reply, and you were certain you might be gripping his hair a little too hard. The bridge of his proud nose rubbed against your clit over and over, a maddening rhythm of back and forth that had your hips twitching with every pass. His mustache was ticklish in the best possible way.

"Gentle soul, I have never savored a more divine treat than this in all my years," Ezra murmured, "never harvested a more precious resource than the lovely sounds I wring from your lips." He returned to devouring your arousal with single-minded intent, no doubt realizing that you were already wound tight.

You sobbed out his name and Ezra groaned softly, his index finger slowly tracing your entrance. The digit was thicker than your own, longer, and while nothing had hurt yet, the pressure of it stirred a momentary unpleasantness in your chest. You froze for just a second.

And Ezra noticed, his motions coming to a halt as he raised his head. "Bad?" He asked, his voice sounding almost deliberately even. "Shall I slow down, or reverse?"

"Slow down." You answered him after a moment. "I'm not...I just don't want it to hurt. It's not bad yet. I can do it." You muttered the last part, determined.

"Is it my fingers?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, not really eager to have this conversation right now, but… "Sort of? They're just...a lot bigger than mine. M' not used to it yet."

"Don't rush yourself, gentle soul." Ezra ordered, lazily reaching his hand up to splay his palm on your stomach instead. He drew his index finger in a firm line down the length of your abdomen, stopping just shy of your pubic mound before retreating back up your belly to repeat the stroke. His touch was soothingly warm, heated by the friction of his movements, and you found yourself eventually relaxing again.

The former prospector was obviously hellbent on taking his time with you, his mouth alone reducing you to a puddle beneath him. You still hadn't come but you could feel it building, building in your stomach; his tongue on you was nearly better than an actual orgasm, the wet muscle tenderly tracing arcane, forbidden designs on your throbbing cunt. You alternated between wishing he would just stop messing around and being so incredibly grateful that he was, because it afforded you the time to wrap your mind around the fact that you absolutely wanted him to fuck you.

Absolutely. You wanted him inside you, wanted him over you or under you, you wanted this, you wanted him.

You started rocking your hips without meaning to and Ezra murmured, "shall I stroke you now, gentle soul?" You felt his smile when you nodded rapidly. "I'll be just as gentle as you, if not gentler."

It didn't hurt.

It didn't hurt. Thank gods.

Ezra crooned low in his throat and that noise made you whine, his finger stroking into you careful and sweet and deep, so deep. "You take me so well, gentle soul. Shall I curl it for you, or is this sufficient?"

"Oh please-" you begged, your thighs trembling.

"A plea, my Eve offers to Lucifer! What a divine supplication. I shall indulge." Ezra muttered darkly, his brow furrowed as if in thought. His thumb applied even pressure to your clit and he proceeded to quirk his index upwards, the sensation making you struggle uncontrollably into a half-sitting position. He stared up at you, no doubt a bit startled by the speed of your motion. "...good?" He suggested tentatively after a second.

"Fuck, Ezra-" you choked out, and Ezra grinned broadly (no doubt in relief). His grin quickly turned into a groan as your fingers kneaded against his scalp like you were a contented cat, his eyes rolling back in his head briefly.

"Gentle soul, you will cause me to ruin my jeans if you keep blessing me with these delectably hearty reactions." He said shakily, stroking you faster now. "Does completion beckon as sweetly as my fingers? Are you teetering on the precipice of release once more? Has the ardent lovemaking of my tongue rendered you mute? Stand at the lectern of passion and sing your hymn to me, gentle soul." He commanded. The soft authority in his voice tingled across every inch of your naked body as he growled, "I would see you fucking drenched from the sweet toil of wanting me."

Your eyes flew open, your back arched and he lowered his mouth to you once more as you came again with a gasping cry of his name. He devoured you at leisure now, the smooth flat of his tongue soothing your sensitive clit even as it pulsed from your climax. You sobbed a breath through your teeth, raking your fingers through his hair over and over in a daze as your body quivered like it would never stop.

When Ezra withdrew his finger you couldn't stifle the pitiful noise you made, your cunt feeling achingly empty. "Want you inside me." You panted, watching him jerk unceremoniously to a halt through barely-open eyes. "Please Ezra, fuck, please, I-"

"Steady, steady." He cajoled softly, moving up over you on his hands and knees so he could press his forehead to yours. "I don't know if you really want all that right this moment, gentle soul." He swallowed hard when you shoved your hands into the back pockets of his jeans. "Gropin' me? How incredibly naughty of you, so bold!" He teased, his eyes crinkling with the spread of his grin. "Wouldn't it be better to calm you down again, though? You must be weary from your work, weary from-"

You didn't let him finish, unzipping his jeans for him. "Please." You sighed, boldly splaying a hand on his abdomen before sliding it into his pants.

Ezra rocked his hips down, the heavy arch of his cock landing squarely in your palm. "You shied away from a finger, gentle soul." He whispered pragmatically. Not judgemental, but logical. "I am...at the risk of sounding overly-confident, I am a touch larger, as you appear to be realizing with the motion of your hand." He finished, his voice cracking slightly.

He was, oh gods. He seemed huge, the stiffness and heat of his cock even through his boxers taking your breath away. Instead of fear though, you felt desire. Your fingers grazed the wet tip, traced the proud vein that pulsed down the length of him and Ezra made a wanton noise, his head hanging.

"Gentle soul, even if I can, even if I do, I regret to inform you that it...I will not last long." He gritted out, tipping your chin up so he could kiss you softly. "Why cause you grief over something that I can easily take care of just by rutting against your thigh?"

"I want to." You breathed, lifting your hands to cup his face.

Ezra met your eyes and strangely, he was the one that looked afraid. "I need you to understand what you're askin' of me." He muttered. "I hang by a delicate thread, gentle soul, and I fear that the moment I intrude into your body, I will wound and mark you with my greedy lust."

"I know you won't."

"How could you possibly know?" Ezra cried, sounding frustrated. "I myself don't even know! Martyr's malfeasance, I am made base by my longing for you. I want nothing more than to sheathe myself in your sweet, trembling cunt, I want nothing more than to hear you utter my name in primal ecstasy, but I will not be the inelegant oaf that pushes you past your breaking point to urge such sensations out of you!" He said sternly, resting his forehead on your own again.

You smiled up at him. "I know you won't. I trust you."

Ezra stared at you for a moment, his gaze turbulent. "If you hate it, I will stop." He promised finally, pressing a forlorn kiss to your palm. His facial hair tickled the skin and you giggled a little, the noise seeming to slightly ease his conscience. "Truthfully, I do not know whether you will have time to hate it." He admitted with a shaky chuckle. "I'm just barely clinging to my composure as is."

"That's okay." You tugged his jeans down over his hips so he could kick them off, his boxers soon following.

Ezra slid his hand down over your cunt, making you twitch and shudder as he gathered a mixture of your arousal and come to fist his cock. "Oh, fuck," he grunted, thrusting into his own hand. "You are so warm, gentle soul. I surmise you may burn my soul to ashes if I defile you."

He positioned himself over you, grasping your hips to raise them slightly. You covered his hands with your own, silently encouraging him to continue when he hesitated. Ezra dragged his cock over your cunt a few times, rocking his hips back and forth until he was soaked with your arousal. "Please." You begged, your body arching to meet him every time the underside of his cock blazed hot on your clit. "Please, Ezra, please--"

"Temperance." The brown-haired man said hoarsely, "temperance. I will not be a threat to you." His member ground against your pussy and slow, so slow, like he was trying to render you to nothingness out of sheer impatience, Ezra began to press into you.

A daze took you as surely as he did, your hands falling limp to the bed. The width of him stole your breath away, but even with his size...it didn't hurt.

Ezra exhaled a ragged gasp of air, glancing up from where your bodies joined. "You are weepin', gentle soul." The look in his dark eyes was jarring, one of combined terror and concern. "Is it as I feared?"

You shook your head rapidly, trying to remember how to speak. You hadn't even noticed the dampness on your face, so complete was your pleasure. "Good." You huffed out finally, going so far as to flash him a thumbs up and a smile.

His relieved moan sent a heated wave through your body. "Gods, I was so afraid I would harm you." You could feel his thighs twitching with the effort of keeping himself still. "Permit me to move?"

You nodded so hard Ezra couldn't help but laugh, the man shifting up and over you once again. His hips settled into the cradle of your pelvis and he gasped, burying his face in your neck even as he wiped the tears from your cheek.

"You grip me so tightly, it is as if you wish to tear my completion from me." He muttered, sounding almost apologetic while he covered the skin of your shoulder with kisses and soft bites. One slow, graceful thrust had you bucking against him, whimpering when he withdrew. "These delectable pleas you are makin' strain to sunder the last strands of my limited pride, gentle soul, but at the same time I...gods, I love hearing you cry out in rapture for me." He hissed through clenched teeth.

Your hands greedily raced over his back and up the nape of his neck, one seizing a handful of his hair while the other clung to his shoulder blade for dear life. "Thank you." You half-sobbed, mouthing the words on his jaw while he filled you with his cock. "Thank you, Ezra, thank you, thank you…"

"You will absolutely destroy me, gentle soul. This pussy threatens me with radiant immolation and yet like a moth to a flame, I come to you with no fear." Ezra's voice trembled, "That my sins could be forgiven so readily! I would happily spend eternity in the gentle embrace of your body."

His motions had you writhing underneath him, clinging tightly to his lithe frame as he drew taut. His member thrust deep enough to make the pit of your stomach ache sweetly. Kevva, you craved this man, craved the love he gave you with a tenacity that made your heart feel as if it would burst.

Ezra kissed your forehead, the tendons in his thick neck rising stark beneath his skin with the effort of holding everything in check. "All I can ask for is that you be charitable when you look back upon this first engagement," he choked out, laughing a little.

You smiled up at him. "Come for me, please?"

"What my gentle soul commands, my body obeys with zealous fervor." He panted, sounding a bit rueful when he added, "for better or worse." Ezra's mouth met your own hungrily, his facial hair sending sparks across your skin as he surged against you a final time.

Ezra's orgasm seemed to pull every ounce of energy from him, leaving his body quivering above you. His right arm gave way suddenly and he nearly collapsed, dropping to his elbow instead with a shaky curse. You quickly guided him down on top of you, not particularly worried about being crushed at the moment as you stroked the back of his head.

"Shh, you're okay." You soothed when you felt the skin of your shoulder grow hot and damp with tears. "You're okay. That was a hell of a workout, don't be upset." You cupped his head. "You just gave me a fucking transcendent experience Ezra, please don't be upset."

His laugh was watery, but still there. "I should have known better than to test my limitations with so much at stake, gentle soul. Nothing to blame but my own fool pride. Are you alright? Still no pain?"

"I am…" you sleepily searched for the right word. "I am somnolent." Your brow furrowed. "Right? That's the one?"

"You are pleasantly drowsy, then. Exhausted and peaceful." Ezra mumbled against your shoulder, absently tonguing the skin he found. "I have done well, if that is truly your humor at this juncture."

"Oh, you did insanely well." You assured him as you closed your eyes, nudging your chin against his sweaty curls. "Thank you."

"I believe it is myself that ought to be expressing my gratitude to you, gentle soul. This was no easy task. The amount of trust you extended to me so freely, I…I am honored." Ezra replied around a yawn. "And immensely weary."

"Can I sleep in here with you?"

He shot you a one-eyed glare from his spot at your collarbone. "Bold of you to assume I would relinquish my grip on you while I'm conscious."

Part Ten

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pepsi-writes · 3 years

Text

chapter 3: the tears of the gang smp are the best candy

"Make sure it won’t happen again.” The boss crossed their arms, maintaining an intimidating posture.

The narrators bobbed their heads, immediately turning around and dashing out of the office. They were lucky to have gotten off the hook so easily after letting that omega robot bastar - nevermind. That’s unimportant.

Hello again, bitc-readers!

I hope you’re glad to see us, which you obviously aren’t, but please say you are 🥺😩

Now. Why focus the story on the narrators, when you’re just here for everybody else’s dumb-assery?

Sleepy took the dog-ear-headband thing off, throwing it in some random direction of the room, as they strolled right through the seventh doorway they’ve made it through after they had escaped from the other cursed room.

Addict followed them closely, though they seemed a bit timid. “Well,” Sleepy broke the awkward silence, “That was annoying.”

Addict glanced down at them. “Ok, but was the bashing really necessary?”

He shrugged. They reached the end of the long hallway (there was a long hallway???), and carelessly opened the door.

It opened to what seemed to be a waiting room, but he couldn’t place his finger on it oh who the fuck am i kidding it’s a waiting room.

“Took you long enough,” Rose mumbled, lounging on one of the chairs. He had searched endlessly for an exit, eventually giving up out of exhaustion.

They both ignored the comment, sitting down in random places in the room. Better to not acknowledge it at all then to make a fuss!

“So, is there, like,” Squid the bird person said, “any exit to this place?”

The room went quiet, so fey took it as a cold, hard, no.

“Hey, Squid,” Addict said, to break the silence, “you, uh, look different!”

Fey laughed in response. “Yeah, I know. The writer finally found out what my design is!” Squid the intellectual alpha was not shocked that the narrators didn’t know of feir design.

Besides, what was their rank in the a/b/o system-

Uhhhh, let’s move on so shush!

Addict let out a chuckle in response, mumbling something about it being cool under their breath.

There was nothing to, kinda talk about, really. Nothing at all. Zero. Nada.

Anyways, they had all been paid to dress themselves in dumb-ass dog costumes and play out an entire script for an episode, skit, whatever the fuck I want to call it.

However, when they actually tried to do the thing, these two bitches- uh - weird things, that called themselves the “narrators” (yeah, that’s us 😎), were keeping the entire performance under check and under control.

The whole thing made no sense whatsoever, but they went along with it anyway, because cash is worth more than their sanity. It would mean that the group would get paid handsomely, so, why not?

But, when they were actually finally fucking finished, they weren’t let out of the room. How fun.

Instead, more people were let into the room, like Sunny the dead racist moth, and Rose the dense mf.

And, they were given an entirely new script, given no time to rehearse or whatever, and told that they’ll be all paid double.

Now? They were in a creepily nostalgic waiting room, with seemingly no exits other than the way they came.

Sunny crossed her arms. “Do we really have to wait in a room with a,” - she glared distastefully at Quartz - “piglin?”

Quartz’s eyes widened at the snarky comment. “I am not a fucking piglin, you short-ass little shit.”

“Well then,” Sunny replied, smiling like the racist bastard she was. “Are you some sort of blaze?”

Quartz simply ignored her useless blabbering. They had no time for her anyway.

Suddenly, the door to the waiting room opened, with a loud slam!

“Hello!” Narrator said, stepping in with an eerie yet pleasant air around them. “Hope you’re all glad to be seeing us again!”

“Oh, great,” Squid snarled, wrinkling up their nose. “We’re going to have to do this dumb dog thing again.”

Yep yep!! Now come on, isn’t this all super fun? 😩👉 👈

“No! This is all fucking terrible, actually,” Rose yelled from the back. He suddenly shut up, with the narrators’ magic writing powers ah fuck let’s get on with it.

Glad to see you’re all excited for Episode 3 of the fun yes times ^﹏^

A door appeared across from where this narrator had entered.

They walked over and opened it.

Now, follow me :)

Everyone followed, because getting threatened by your best friend and crush in order to get a jab at the other person whom you love, is way too boring to actually watch.

Anyways, the narrator led them to another place, shoved everyone in it, shut the door, and locked it. Why? Because yes <3 Anyways they walked over to a room with a big ass window, into the room where they could now safely control the gsmp people bitches, without risk of dumbass robots hitting me and destroying the careers that they both had worked years to get to lmao.

“I hate it here,” Quartz groaned, any spark of happiness or peace seemingly draining from their eyes.

Sleepy whipped their head to the side, a snarky frown on their face. “Well, what fun thing are you making us do now?” A question mark appeared on their screen; obviously it was there to pester the narrators.

The narrator suddenly paused. They didn’t know what to do now. The other narrator didn’t know what was going to happen too (spoiler alert they both know they’re just being bitches lmao)

Irrelevant, nevertheless we have someone new for everyone to have your fun with :D

The narrator pressed a button on the control panel that appeared because fuck logic, and a door appeared on the ceiling, seemingly out of thin… wall.

Guess what it dropped? Uh, fuck it, you’ve all read the original already, it’s our favorite little goat, Scar!!!!!!!!

The door suddenly disappeared, slamming shut as its edges dissipated. Rose, who had climbed on top of Addict to try and reach it, cursed in frustration. Addict, who had absolutely no mercy towards him, wiggled so that he fell out of their grip. Rose cursed again, standing up and massaging his terribly injured arm. “Anyways…” he grumbled, “Welcome to hell.”

Addict sprinted to him, helping them up. “Hey…” they said to Scar.

“Yeah,” he coughed, brushing out his shirt, “I just kinda fell.”

he looked around the colorful room “Uh… where am I-“ Scar was suddenly quieted with the narrators’ awesome powers lmao.

Hey, stop questioning this now anyways put on these!

I pressed another button. The ceiling opened up again, and a dog-ear-headband clambered to Scar’s feet. A look of confusion passed their face, but he didn’t question it.

Now, they get to officially be a part of the a/b/o fic!

“...What?”

Woah. Both of the narrators, ending on a cliffhanger?

Wowsers😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳

Haha that was fun right guys :)

#writing #a/b/o fic #a/b/o verse #a/b/o au #gang #gsmp #gang smp #gsmp a/b/o fic

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leverage-ot3 · 4 years

Text

notable moments from The Future Job

leverage 2.13

Nate: Yeah, belief perseverance. People cling even tighter to their beliefs after they've been shown evidence contradicting them.

🥰 psych terms 🥰

- - - - -

Nate: All right, don't worry. This guy, Rand, is gonna pay. We're gonna make sure of that.

Ryan: I'm not here asking for money, Mr. Ford. I just want my sister back.

another noble client 😌

- - - - -

Parker: So this is where he shoots his show, huh? Surrounded by warehouses and storage lockers?

Nate: Well, it's, uh, local cable access. He's, uh, self financing. They're probably trying to score a bigger payday. Network or something.

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Yeah, you're right about that. I've hacked Rand's website, stole his passwords and used 'em to access his e-mail. You know, this man has his computer hooked up to the city's free Wi-Fi? My nana could hack this thing.

- - - - -

Woman (to Parker): Who are you hoping comes through today?

Parker: Nothing. What, uh, nobody. I don't wanna talk to anybody.

Nate: What's wrong?

Parker: I just don't like psychics, OK? They freak me out.

Nate: OK, just relax. All right? We're just here to see what tricks Rand has up his sleeve. That's all. Just..

- - - - -

Tara: What is that smell?

Hardison: What smell? I just washed this thing. You could eat off the floor.

Tara: No, there's a smell.

someone make a compilation of people disrespecting the van and hardison Not Having It™

- - - - -

Rand: It's, uh, It's not a gecko. You've shut yourself off to the energies that are around us. But, your friend here, she's a little more receptive.

(Parker fidgets)

Rand: In fact, I think I'm getting an energy right now. It's definitely family. Is it your father? No. No, it's a sibling. Brother.

(Parker looks down)

Rand: You were both very young. It was an accident. I see a road. I see a car. But your brother's not in the car. He's in the street. Wheels. I see wheels. A skateboard. No, a bicycle. Was he riding a bicycle when he was struck? He's been gone a long time from you now.

(Parker tries not to cry)

Rand: He's sorry that he had to leave you. He knows that you feel responsible, but he wants you to know it was an accident. You taught him to ride that bike, didn't you?

(Parker runs out of the studio)

Rand: That's all right. Sometimes people aren't ready to hear what the spirits have to say.

(Nate gets up and follows Parker out)

[Interior Van]

Tara: Damn.

Hardison: Damn.

Tara: He is good.

Hardison: He should be shot

this is heartbreaking but also see how hardison IMMEDIATELY wants to hurt the guy because NOBODY has the right to hurt parker like that. he cares about her so deeply, your honor

- - - - -

[Leverage HQ]

(Parker is sitting on the floor near the couch when the others walk in)

Nate: Parker?

Parker: There's no way he coulda known that stuff. I've never told anyone. No one. Ever.

this scene made my heart HURT

Nate: But, Parker, he didn't know anything.

Parker: No, Nate. You said we'd find a trick up his sleeve. You said we'd find a trick. Well, we didn't find a trick, did we? He knew things. He's really psychic.

Eliot: He's not a psychic, Parker. He's just a con man.

Nate: He just did a cold read on you. That's all.

Tara: He asked questions and used your answers to guide him.

Parker: But I didn't say anything (her voice cracks)

Nate: You didn't have to. Can I show you something?

(Hardison pulls up a feed of the show on the monitors)

Nate: Right, right there. Do you remember when he asked you, "Is this energy that I'm getting, does it have anything to do with your father?" Do you remember? Well, you furrowed your eyebrow. You might as well have told him, "No."

Tara: And then, when he keyed in on your brother, right here. Your eyes widened just slightly. He knew he was on the right track.

Hardison: Then he just guessed, Parker. He got a hit when he said that you were both very young and he just went with the odds. An accident of some kind.

Parker: But he knew about the bicycle.

Nate: No, he didn't. 'Cause what happened was he said "wheels," and then he moved on. He said "skateboard." You told him about the bicycle.

Parker: No, I didn't say anything.

Nate: You had a certain tell, Parker. Your mouth opened just a little bit. Enough for him to register your surprise. Then, well, he just guessed.

Tara: He used all these things during the reading. How your breathing changed, if your shoulders were raised or slouched, how you were holding your hands, if your, if your lips were pursed.

Parker: What about the other people? He knew names and relationships.

Nate: Yeah, the hot read. What he does is he researches before the show, gets himself armed with as much information as possible to help him with the readings. It's not really that much different than what we do.

Parker: But he doesn't know who's gonna be in the audience ahead of time.

Nate: Well, no. No, he doesn't. He doesn't know until they're there.

WHEN HER VOICE CRACKED I LOST IT

“but he knew about the bicycle” HER VULNERABLE SAD VOICE

- - - - -

Tara: So what do we do now?

Parker: Cut off his arms. And his head. Yeah. I wanna kill him. Can we make that happen?

Eliot: Yeah. I can... I mean, I could...

okay but THIS SCENE

IT HAS MY WHOLE (WHOLE) HEART

eliot, who has SWORN OFF killing, sees parker in such distress and hurt that he offers to bring back that part of his past for her.

he knows she’d never ask that of him, though, which is partially one of the reasons he felt comfortable offering. she would never abuse his past like that, even with how hurt she was and some part of him knows that when he speaks

he’d do anything for her because he loves her, even in season two. send tweet.

- - - - -

Rand: You wanna know what the trick is?

Wilson: Yeah.

Rand: It's confidence. You believe what you're saying and they'll believe it, too. Doesn't matter how many misses, 'cause it's the hits that they'll remember.

- - - - -

Tara: Two years ago, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. The doctors removed it, but ever since, I guess you could say I was twice blessed. With renewed life, and with this gift.

Rand: You're serious.

(Tara takes his hand and guides it to the back of her head)

Tara: Feel the scar?

Rand: All right, then. Tell me something that only the spirits would know. Tell me about my father. How he died.

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Don't worry. I got you, girl.

Eliot: Wait a minute, we didn't give her that scar, did we?

Nate: No. We did not

tara has SO MUCH undiscussed backstory that I desperately want to know

- - - - -

(Rand takes his arms off the table and shakes them, surprised)

Tara: What's wrong?

Rand: I just felt something.

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Nate had me rig the table with a mild electrical current.

Eliot: You electrocuted him?

Hardison: Yes, I did. It helped sell the bit.

Parker: I approve.

Hardison: Thanks, Parker.

Eliot: No. Her agreein' with you is not a good thing.

Nate: (at Parker) Thanks

eliot when parker suggests something sketchy/morally grey: eh, whatever, I’ll stop her if she goes too far but it’s just who she is

eliot when nate does the Exact Same Thing™: NOPE. GET OUT OF HERE WITH THOSE HORRIFIC IDEAS. BAD NATE. *sprays him with water*

- - - - -

eliot laughing as he tows the car LMFAO RETRIBUTION IS A BITCH

+ hardison with the fortune cookies and the bandana (bonus if parker saved them to eat for breakfast)

+ nate smiling as he almost hits rand with his car

- - - - -

Nate: OK, you ready?

Hardison: You do realize what you're asking me to do is impossible, right?

Nate (hands him orange soda): Here ya go.

Hardison: And my gummy frogs. I need my gummy frogs.

Nate: You serious?

Hardison: Yeah.

(Nate goes and gets the gummy frogs and throws them to Hardison)

GIVE HIM HIS ORANGE SODA AND GUMMY FROGS. HE NEEDS THEM TO WORK!!!

also I LOVE how there is apparently a DRAWER of them in nate’s kitchen

- - - - -

tara squared up to fight too, even ready to brawl without eliot because she’s a BADASS

- - - - -

Tara: Her husband. She thinks he's cheating on her.

Hardison: How'd you know that? All I said was she hired a private investigator.

Eliot: Married woman in her 40s? She's not looking for the Maltese Falcon

maltese falcon? foreshadowing anyone???

- - - - -

Parker: So, what, Kusen has a secret and he's gonna kill Rand so he doesn't reveal it? That'd be good.

Eliot: No, you wanna kill someone you don't get out and throw 'em in a van. You don't get out of your seat

- - - - -

also this is like the third (?) episode in a row where eliot has lil braids in his hair, it’s adorable but I wonder if it’s significant ???

+ parker changed and now she’s wearing a pretty blue flannel

- - - - -

also apparently to get a paper seem old you crumple it a LOT and then sandpaper it??? (according to parker in this episode)

- - - - -

(Down the aisle, Hardison, Eliot and Parker round a corner moving boxes toward a storage unit)

Hardison: We need more boxes.

Parker: And a lot of luck.

Eliot: Yeah, well, I think we used all our luck on finding this place.

Hardison: Wait, hold, hold...

(Hardison tapes something to the back wall of the unit as the others move boxes)

Hardison: You know what? It ain't luck, OK? Finding the perfect place to end the treasure hunt is a testimony to my intellectual prowess.

(Eliot drops a box on Hardison’s foot)

Hardison: Ow. (Parker laughs)

Eliot: What? It's baby clothes.

Hardison: It says "books," man.

Eliot: Does it?

chaotic ot3

- - - - -

eliot next to parker with his head resting on his arm is v cute

- - - - -

the whole fam was there to gloat vengefully with parker and I love that for her

- - - - -

Tara: They do make a cute pair, don't they?

Nate: Let's see, we got, uh, we got assault, kidnapping and burglary for our friend, Kusen, and garden variety fraud for our psychic friend, Dalton Rand. Any way we can get them in the same prison?

Hardison: That could be arranged

PUT THEM IN THE SAME PRISON

- - - - -

Jodie: A part of me knew it wasn't real, but I didn't care. I missed Mike so much. I wanted to see him again so bad.

Nate: You will see him again. Maybe it'll be a look. (looks at Jodie’s pregnant stomach) Maybe it'll be a gesture. Maybe it'll be the way he spreads peanut butter on a slice of bread. But when you see it, you'll know and you'll say, "That's Mike." And you know what? That's a miracle no one could ever sell you.

Jodie: Thank you, Mr. Ford.

(Jody and Ryan get up and head for the door)

Tara: (eyes watering) Now I see why you do it.

- - - - -

(Parker stops Jody and Ryan before they leave)

Parker: Before you go, this is for your sister and the baby.

Ryan (looks in envelope): What is this?

Parker: It's the money Rand took from your sister. All of it.

Ryan: I don't know what to say.

(Ryan hugs Parker who reluctantly hugs him back before they leave. Parker sits down at the bar with Hardison and Eliot)

Eliot: Wait a sec. I thought you said all of Rand's money went into paying for his show. I thought you said he was broke.

Hardison: It did. He was.

Eliot: Where'd the money come from? Did you guys find the stolen money? Hmm? Did you find Kusen's loot?

(Parker and Hardison just look at Eliot)

Eliot: Without... Unbelievable. Hmm? (walks away)

Parker: He who looks for hidden money shall find it, if he is also a thief.

(Parker and Hardison clasp hands)

there are so many things about this I want to talk about:

1. parker showing emotion and vulnerability talking to ryan and being startled and uncomfortable when the hug starts but slowly relaxing into it a little bit

2. eliot’s MAJOR fomo with parker and hardison,,, it’s adorable. poor baby

3. THEIR HAND CLASP YOUR HONOR

- - - - -

eliot is wearing a flannel in the final scene

also, you know how you can tell so many of the team is lgbt (parker, hardison, eliot)?

THE F L A N N E L S

THE P L A I D

as a bisexual I can #confirm there is way too much to be a coincidence it’s a Science™ I promise

#leverage 2.13 #leverage 2x13 #the future job #leverage #leverage season 2 #season 2 #notable moments #mine

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a-lonely-tatertot · 4 years

Text

Finding Home

A/N: Introducingggggg AMY and linh! it gets gay at the end dont worry, once again thanking @bookwyrminspiration for betaing for me!

Tw: mention of injuries and some phantom pains (is that what they’re called??)

Word count: 2279

Chapter 2: Runaway

A month and an accepted roommate later, she got to remember she was Sophie for a minute. Sophie before everything happened. She saw her sister for the first time since their parents were kidnapped and it knocked the breath out of her. Short, bright pink hair blowing around her set face, Amy’s wide eyes stared up at the apartment complex.

The stairs passed in a blur as Sophie barreled down them almost tripping over her feet on the way down. Amy, her Amy. “Amy!” she yelled barreling into her sister. A moment too late she thought it would be extremely awkward if it wasn’t Amy.

But it was, and she hugged her tighter than ever. Sophie buried her head in Amy’s short hair taking in the comfort of her sister. “You smell weird,” she whispered.

“Missed you too, sis,” Amy chuckled lightly.

“Dyed your hair and got glasses?” Sophie said, pulling away and holding her at arm's length.

“Sorry, are we not going to address the fact that you’re passing as human? Under my original name?” Amy asked.

“Uh yeah guess I’ve got a bit of explaining to do.” Sophie rubbed the back of her neck.

“Oh yeah, but over coffee, because I was not ready to see my sister for the first time in over ten years,” she laughed, “And I need a lot more energy cause we have a lot of talking to do.”

So they talked and talked until the sun set behind the skyline and the street lights flickered on empty roadways. They talked until they were out of coffee to drink and snacks to eat and stars to count.

Sophie could barely pay attention to the first day of classes. Every flash of strawberry blonde and soft eyes sent her back. Back to bright mornings and weird lockers and one on one classes. But not only that; it sent her back to her friends. Dex appeared in the ramblings of Jena, one of Amy’s many friends who could talk for hours about chemicals and science. He clouded her memory when she walked into Chemistry and it threw her back to his laboratory. She thought of him looking at the skinny, freckled covered kid that hung onto her Quantum Theory teacher’s every word.

When she walked into the library, three days in, and saw the spiraling stacks she remembered Fitz and how he could get lost in a book and never leave the pages.

Marella could be found in the rare smiles that were Anaz. How sarcastic comments came to her with ease and there was always gossip flooding the halls.

In her English teacher’s humor, she found Keefe. How Sophie collected pens just because they were there and how doodles filled Amy’s margins.

Red became her color. In the morning when she didn’t know what to wear Biana flooded her mind. When she didn’t know how to hide her scars she thought of her. Sophie would wear them as a testament to the people she left behind. And when her eyes caught sight of the scars that littered another student’s body, clear on their dark skin, she stood a little taller. They were a testament to survival.

Tam, she remembered when the world was so loud. How he was able to control his impulses, his power, his shadows like her telepathy and inflicting. When she just wanted to hide from it all she remembered him, and kept going.

And the one that came as a surprise to her was Stina. The cold exterior and the sense of superiority that followed Henry, who locked so much of him away in a tiny box, to hide from the rest of the world. And how when you really got to know them there wasn’t a small corner that was as cold as it seemed.

But the one that never really went away was Linh. It didn’t surprise her. No, she knew she would never really get Linh out of her head. So Sophie accepted the small tug that came with seeing people together. As they laughed and smiled and hugged, as two girls held hands firmly; she wondered if that could’ve ever been them. If their broken world would’ve allowed it.

When she thought of them, her hand found her neck and the crystal and she held on tight only to let go. Because that was no longer her, and those people were no longer her’s. Amilia Ruewen did not know them. The crystal was all she had left of them.

And at some point that would have to be okay.

“You’re coming to this club with the group tonight,” Amy grinned. Ugh, a night with Amy’s friends? Sounded like torture.

“Why?” Sophie asked. In her head and in her apartment, they were Sophie and Amy. To the world, their jobs, their school, their friends, they were Amilia and Natalie.

She didn’t have work until Saturday and she had already finished her homework and Amy knew this. There wasn’t a way she wasn’t going. Amy looked up and smiled all teeth, all eyes. Someone save me, Sophie thought.

Spoiler: it went a lot worse than she expected.

There was a feeling that Sophie knew well. It was why she was here in the first place. The feeling started in her wrists, where she had been bound countless times. It spread up and down to the edges of her fingers which had caused so much pain. The fingers that held weapons and the hands that held both the blood of her enemies and friends. It filled her shoulders with tension and her legs with a need to run. But she couldn’t. She was surrounded by bodies, moving, dancing, controlled by the beat of the drums that shook her core like a war cry. That was because it was a war cry. The image of her friends, the small family she had made, half-dead and filling up every bed in the Healing Center. She had run away from them. That was what she alone had done. Sophie ran from the dangers and the responsibility.

Coward.

“Breathe,” an order. In. Out. One. Two. Three.

“Sophie? Soybean?” Amy’s voice. Amy’s hands on her shoulders. “Hey, hey,” her fingers cradled her jaw. “You’re right here, I got you, you’re okay. We won, it’s over.”

But it wasn’t. At night the demons came back to haunt her. And she would be running from them for the rest of her life.

Sophie had told herself when she left the Lost Cities she wasn’t following orders anymore. Little notes and anonymous gifts were things of the past. She told herself this as she took a picture of her shifts for the next week. They flowed through her mind as she wrote notes for a lecture. Words scribbled on papers and typed on documents controlled her whether she wanted them to or not. They set the path and all she had to do was follow it.

This time it wasn’t directed at her.

“Hey Soph, you got anyone who would send you mail?” Amy called from the hallway.

“Nope!” She had barely even heard what Amy had said, too absorbed by homework.

“Huh, okay.”

“You sure it’s not for you? It’s from that town like an hour north of campus,” Amy asked a minute later, shoving the envelope in front of her computer. “Get out of your nerd stuff and look at important things.”

Sophie made a noise but took the envelope, “My nerd stuff is important!”

Amy chuckled lightly, “Sure dear, you’re almost as bad as Jena.”

“My lord Amy it has your name on it,” Sophie shook her head, “And Jena is really smart and, unlike you, actually capable of holding an intellectual conversation!”

“Huh, guess I’m blind.” Rolling her eyes, she went back to her homework as Amy tore open the letter. Where was she? Oh yeah-

“Do you know about that road house right outside of town?”

“Amy I swear if you interrupt me one more time-”

Amy ignored her, “It’s a coupon to there. We could take the gang this weekend.”

“Yeah sure, totally, now just let me finish my homework,” Sophie said, not realizing that she could’ve just agreed to anything.

“Nat you can drink?” Amilia asked. It was a running gag.

“Oh shush, I’m not eleven anymore!” Natalie retorted. And she wasn’t eleven, she was twenty-three and Amilia had to remind herself of that often.

The roadhouse was dark, full of wooden booths. In the corner there was a pool table surrounded by a group of guys. Amilia sat at a table with three of Nat’s friends, her friends, she reminded herself. Thunk! The sound of darts reminded her of throwing stars. Shaking her head slightly she tried not to think about all she had left behind. Amilia, she thought, but it echoed outside her head.

“Amilia!” Tina called, waving her hand in front of her.

“Sorry, what?” she asked. Get out of your head, she thought sternly.

They all chuckled quietly and tampered off into their different conversations. It was a nice normal, zoning in and out, the words just soft buzzing. She traced the rough wood of the roadhouse with her eyes. The chipped, frayed edges. Dark, daunting, but cozy. The roof domed up to balconies with rooms for the inn part. Sophie didn’t know if anyone actually stayed there anymore. Posts came down into booths, to a karaoke machine in the corner, to the bar that stretched along the entire left side. There was a girl, flannel tight around her waist, short dark hair held up by various barrettes keeping the strands away from her face. The pen and cups flew through her hands with experience and it was mesmerizing to watch. Sophie couldn’t see her face, but there was a tugging feeling that the girl was familiar. From a past life, she thought, and laughed. She had had many past lives. At this point she wouldn’t know which one the girl would’ve been from. If she would just look up, the urge to know who she was got stronger. She was someone to her someone important-

Crash. Her heart pounded, her ears rang. The shattering sound of glass was ironic because it played backwards in her ears. Shattered heart becoming whole.

Sophie, because to that face that was all she was. Her feet moved without her permission.

Because this girl wasn’t just someone to her, she was everything to her.

She was the hardest to leave behind and the only one that could make her stay.

“I’m supposed to be bartending,” Linh whispered into her shoulder, “and your friends are looking at us.”

“Fuck off, I get the longest hug I want after not seeing you for a decade,” Sophie laughed stubbornly into her shoulder.

Linh turned her head into Sophie’s neck and hummed quietly, “I think that’s fair.”

For the first time she relaxed. The world fell off her shoulders and she realized this was the feeling she had been chasing. Linh smelled like cigar smoke and whiskey and cats (she made a mental note to ask about that later). But she knew, as she shifted closer, holding Linh as tight as she could, after all those years she would still smell like the ocean, she’d still smelled like home.

The next morning she found herself passed out in a room that wasn’t her own. An old lamp sat on a wooden nightstand. Next to it, barely lit, was a piece of paper. In big bold letters it read: The Western RoadHouse. In scratchy handwriting there was a note. it filled the entire card,words running into each other. In her very tired state Sophie could barely decipher it.

Hey! Sorry I had to work early and you looked way too peaceful to wake up. How much of last night do you remember? We talked about how I got here, and how you got here. And, well, we talked for hours and did you know the more tired you are the pinker your ears get? And the easier it is the fluster you? You also get clingy and rub your eyes a lot. I ended up having to carry you up to my room and swear to Amy on everything that I had you would be okay. But I realized in that minute in a half of hauling your dead weight and listening to you murmur in your sleep that I had missed you. I ran away because I’ve always been running, but I don’t wanna run anymore. If you’d let me, I’d like to run to you instead. This is me asking if you’ll be my girlfriend, or just go out on a date if you didn’t get that. So yeah? Can I run to you?

For a moment she thought she was dreaming. Then she read it again and all she could do was laugh. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes she grabbed a pen and paper and wrote a simple message in neat, loopy handwriting.

Well then runaway,

Come running.

She wrote her and Amy’s address at the bottom and slipped it into Linh’s bag on the nightstand on her way out. When Amy pulled up in the van she only raised an eyebrow.

“Did you win?” she asked, turning down the music slightly as Sophie closed the door.

She smiled, mouth crooked, eyes wrinkled, for once unguarded and wild. “Yeah, I think I did.” Whoops and hollers rang out from the back where her friends crowded together. They whooped and hollered and clapped her on the shoulder as Amy pulled the van out of the lot.

Tag list: @enbies-and-felonies, @clearlykeefitz, @ruewen-and-rising, @you-are-the-vacker-legacy @linhamon-roll @lemontarto @rainbowtay-11 @an-absolute-travesty @girlofmanyfandoms(if you want to be added or removed come find me here)

#finding home #tater writes #kotlc #kotlc fic #sophie foster #amy foster #linh song #injuries tw #phantom pains tw #keeper of the lost cities #solinh

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waterboysokka · 4 years

Text

What You Look Like; ATLA oneshot

Summary: It was easier when Zuko never had to explain why he had his scar. It was easier whenever everyone took to the common theme to never ask. It's harder to avoid a blind girl who doesn't even know it's there. (Three weeks post-canon)

Word count: 3,882

Note: Hii! Welcome to the first ATLA fic related thing I’ve posted on here so far :) This is a one shot that basically is deep 5am talks with Zuko and Toph. I dunno, I love their friendship and I felt like it had the potential to be so deep and intellectual. Soooo, that’s what this is! It’s basically Toph asking about Zuko’s scar (I saw a fic rec list of this prompt somewhere but now I can’t find it?? I would link it if I could!) Anyways, I listened to disney lullaby songs while writing this bc it just?? fit? Idk, it’s soft and kinda sad... But besides all of that, I hope you guys like it!! It’ll also be up on my AO3, which is linked in my bio!

Toph groaned as she rolled over once more in the bed that she could tell was just all-too big for her. She hadn’t asked for a separate room, she actually didn’t mind sleeping with the rest of the group, but Zuko's maids had insisted on each of them getting their own room since there were so many to go around.

It had been only three weeks since the defeat of Ozai and Zuko’s overtaken the role of Fire Lord. She continued to forget that he wasn’t just a prince anymore, he now had responsibilities- bigger than any of them had realized.

So when he had asked them to stay with him until things got in order, none of them were opposed. Maybe it was because they weren't quite ready to adjust to their new life in totality yet, or maybe they were fearful about losing their friend to the immense amount of stress that he had just been put under.

Whichever it was, it didn’t matter, because they were still here as a team for Zuko.

But all of that didn’t change that the bed that she was put in was incredibly uncomfy for it to be owned by royalty. She felt like she was drowning in sheets and slowly getting devoured by the mattress itself.

Frustrated, Toph groaned and pushed herself out of bed. She needed tea. After being here for a couple of weeks, she was finally able to understand the layout of the palace without being attached to Aang or Sokka’s arm, as she used to be. She knew it was thirty-two steps down the hall to the right, then down the stairs, and one hundred and twelve steps to the kitchen- not counting the columns she’d have to dodge.

She hummed softly as she counted in her head the steps confidently, knowing she didn’t miscalculate considering that this was the fifth time she’d done this walk to get tea since they’d arrived.

“Toph?”

The voice startled her- not because she couldn’t sense someone there, but because she didn’t expect anyone to be awake. All the other times she had done this she had been the only one.

“Zuko?” She asked and raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t expect you to be awake.” “I could say the same thing to you,” Zuko replied.

“Well, I’m just down here to get some tea and then I’m leaving,” Toph explained nonchalantly and walked around the bar, feeling her way down the long, cool counter to the tea kettle (which Iroh conveniently pulled back out at night once the maids left for her after she told him about her occurrences). As she got closer to the tea kettle, the counter got increasingly hotter until she jerked her hand back in shock.

“Did you make tea?” She asked Zuko, who she could tell was now sitting at the long table.

“Mhm,” He murmured, and she heard him take a long sip of it.

Toph rolled her eyes, already knowing that Zuko’s tea was nothing in comparison to Iroh’s. Luckily, she had learned from Iroh about the best way to make tea for herself and it sufficed. Zuko’s wouldn’t- it was basically hot leaf water.

“Are you dumping it out?” Zuko asked, perplexed. His voice wasn’t raspy, which was a hint to Toph that he had been awake much longer than she had realized. Had he even gone to sleep?

“I’m not drinking hot leaf water,” Toph answered with a shrug and began the stove up again to make a much better mixture.

It was silent for a while after that while she worked. She could tell that Zuko was still there, just sitting and silently sipping his tea. He was stressed, he was anxious. She deduced that this probably had something to do with the reason why he wasn’t asleep, and she couldn’t blame him.

Even after the hard time she had given Zuko, she still knew that being the Fire Lord wasn’t a breeze even though he liked to surface-level it to everyone. No one believed what he said, not even for a minute. Which was another running contender for their prolonged stay.

The tea kettle began to hiss, and she immediately took it off of the stove, cautious not to wake anyone else up, and poured herself a cup. She got ready to leave when something in the back of her mind tugged at her to sit with Zuko, just for a minute.

So, that’s what she did.

Toph approached the table and felt around the chair sides and pulled it out for herself. She placed the drink on the table in front of her and plopped down into the seat, adjusting herself to where her tea was placed promptly in front of her for convenient drinking.

“I feel weird asking this, but how ya been holding up?” Toph said as she took a sip of her tea, she took a long sip of it, even though it had definitely burnt her tongue because she hadn’t waited long enough for it to cool.

“Good,” Zuko replied. It was a short reply, one that she definitely expected from him.

Silence hit again. She wasn’t very good at opening up to people on her own, let alone having other people do it with her. But she felt like she understood Zuko in a better way than some of the others, and she couldn’t depict why- she hadn’t ever asked about his past or even what his plans were for the future… or even what he looked like.

“I bet it’s hard,” Toph said, “getting thrown into running an entire Nation.”

“Yeah,” Zuko replied with a sigh. “But it’s what I expected. It’s what I was born to do.”

Another hit of silence. Toph blew on her tea to cool it off and heard Zuko do the same.

“How, though?” Toph asked bluntly. It was her only move she knew to continue the conversation. She was curious.

Zuko hadn’t spilled much of his life to anyone except for Aang, and while they were all incredibly close now, it had never seemed to come up about his past- just like it hadn’t ever come up about her’s or Suki’s. They were all too busy fighting and defeating Ozai that they had forgotten that they didn’t know much about each other.

Zuko sighed and she watched his outline run his hand through his hair (she presumed he had hair, unlike Aang, who she’d been notified to be bald).

“What do you mean how? Azula’s younger than me,” Zuko explained. Toph could tell he was bordering defensiveness. She pressed on anyways.

“You wouldn’t have wanted to fight your dad or your sister if there wasn’t a reason,” Toph said. “It just doesn’t add up like that.”

Zuko’s heart rate quickened. He wasn’t speaking. Toph knew this all too well- the attempt to create a lie that threw off the actual answer. He should really have known by now that that wasn’t going to work.

“Don’t lie. I can tell you’re trying to,” Toph bluntly pointed out. She took another sip of her tea and then placed it down in front of her again.

“I was banished. I had to find the Avatar to restore what I thought was my honor. I did that for three years before deciding it wasn’t right and my destiny was to join Aang,” Zuko explained in an overly-simplified, overly-glazed way. Toph rolled her eyes. “I already know that part. I’m talking about before that. I wanna know why you were banished.”

“Why? I thought you were going back to sleep.”

As much as he had worked on letting people in, this unexpected press of information of his past- from Toph of all people- was close to stepping over the line. He didn’t have time for this. He had things to do, orders to get through with, staff and guards and armies to command. He had his job to do once dawn broke.

Toph didn’t answer and took another long sip of her tea.

“I said something I shouldn’t have in a meeting.”

“And?”

“There is no ‘and’. I said something I shouldn’t have, it upset him, and he banished me.”

“Just like that?” Toph raised an eyebrow. This conversation was going nowhere fast, and she knew it. She could bail out now and go and sleep until the sun rose in a few hours before she started asking the big question.

“Mhm.”

She rolled the idea around in her head in the silence and opted against it. This question had nagged at her for a long time, and although it seemed to be like pulling eye teeth, it needed to be asked. She wasn’t sure if she could even go back to sleep anyways.

“What does Aang look like?” She asked. She started simple- one she knew that he could answer in a breeze. She felt his heart rate drop down to a more normal rate and his body relaxed.

“Hmm,” Zuko thought. He didn’t say anything for a minute, as if to gather the best explanation of his friend as possible. As much as it probably shouldn’t have been, it was a lot of pressure to describe one of their closest comrades to her. He hadn’t ever really thought about what Aang looked like- he just knew. He could just see him and know that, well… he was Aang.

“Well, ah… He’s short. Yeah, just a little bit taller than you, actually. He’s bald, obvious- well, maybe not obviously… sorry,” Zuko stuttered. “He has really big blue eyes. Like huge. There’s always like an adventure behind them, too. You can just tell that he’s always looking ahead- looking forward to something. He has his Airbender tattoos that are light blue and they’re, ah… they’re arrows. They start at his forehead and travel round his arms and wrists and stuff… it’s cool. He’s super thin, but I don’t know if you can see that- well, not see, but I didn’t know if that was important, er… maybe not.

He smiles really big, too. His whole face is centered around his smile. Katara told me that when he grew his hair out, it was brown, but I’ve never seen it… he wears lots of oranges and yellows, too. It’s pretty standard Air-Nomad colors.

I can’t really think of anything else… I think… I think that may be all.” Zuko breathed a sigh of relief as he tapered off what seemed to be his one long run-on sentence. He was known to do that when he was uncomfortable, or even under pressure. Hell, sometimes tired, too. These were all things he was feeling. He glanced up at a Toph who was looking up- not necessarily across the table to him. Just… up. A small smile was planted on her lips.

“I hope that helped some,” Zuko said and took another sip of his tea. He didn’t even realize how dry his mouth had gotten. It shouldn’t have been a difficult task describing Aang, but it was deemed to hold a lot more responsibility than just some random bystander looking for the Avatar. He knew he had to do it justice for Toph.

“Okay, now Katara,” Toph said as she flicked her gaze back down to reality. She took her teacup in her hands and cradled it to give her hands warmth. Zuko’s eyes widened for a second at the realization that she was going to go through the entire group. He cleared his throat and thought for a couple minutes, just like he had with Aang. “Well, she’s taller than you and Aang. But, she’s not really tall… just- average. She’s just average height. She has long, ah… dark brown hair? Sorry, I don’t know hair colors that well. Anyways, she also has big eyes, but not in the same way as Aang’s. You can kinda just… read her whole past in her eyes if you wanted to. You can see the pain and the fear that she’s… yeah. Uh, and they’re blue- like, deep, icy water blue. Her lips are naturally downturned- I think, but… you know how Katara is. She also has these two… what’d Sokka call them? These two… hair loopies that come down and… I dunno… frame her face? Her and Sokka have kinda ah… like a golden complexion? Not like gold- please, don’t think they’re gold- but it’s a deep tanned shade… I guess. I don’t know, it’s hard to say without sounding weird or… The colors that her and Sokka wear are the ones of the Water Tribe, so lots of blues and whites and stuff… they complement their eye colors and skin tone, too… Katara kinda has this disposition where she could hug you or fight you at the same time if that helps… I don’t know.”

He ran his fingers through the divots of the wood carved out in the table from wear-and-tear over time. They were smooth curves now, no rigid edges or stray wood to prick his fingers like they used to when he was a kid. It was his distraction, ultimately, from his stumble of a description of his friends, and mostly, Toph’s reaction.

There was no talk again for a minute, only the faint sound of fire igniting briefly for Zuko to heat up both of their teas. He wasn’t sure of the time anymore, but they had been sitting long enough for their drinks to no longer carry any warmth, which signified a significant length of time.

“Sokka?” Toph asked. He watched as her gaze, just as before, leveled back out with where her head was positioned.

“He… well, he looks like Katara, except… if Katara was a guy. They are siblings so it makes sense. He’s, ah… how do I say this- he’s not built. He’s super… think like a piece of wood. But I don’t think that’s a bad thing I think it kinda fits him, I guess. Oh, he’s taller than Katara and shorter than me… I wish I had a better visual to give you besides just the in-between height of Katara and I. His eyes are the same type of blue as Katara’s but instead of pain, they hold curiosity and… thrill, maybe? It doesn’t mean there isn’t any hurt in his eyes- in Aang’s either- but in Katara’s, it’s kind of hard to navigate around her hurt… yeah. Believe it or not, but Sokka’s hair is kinda long… I guess he used to shave the sides or something, but now it’s all grown out and stuff so he just pulls it back. He has this smug attitude that’s kinda just… all over his face? He always looks like he’s ready to do something or maybe even that he’s hiding something… But there’s also seriousness that hides in his face, too. He wears the same kind of blues and whites like Katara does, again, standard for the Water Tribe… ”

He waited hesitantly for her reply. It was a lot harder than he thought to describe these people who he’d become so close with. He just hoped he hadn’t messed up any of her visions of them. He wasn’t sure what her plan was for all of these descriptions, or why she'd even asked him.

He knew the others could do it better- make it more poetic and imaginary. But he wasn’t that person. He was the Fire Lord- and even before he was the Fire Lord, he was a silenced Prince. Creativity didn’t flow through him like it did the others. He wished it did, sometimes. Maybe then he’d be able to give Toph illusive descriptions of the people that mattered most to her.

“I hope those were okay,” He said, and rubbed his eyes with the bottom of his palms and pressed in hard so he could see dots. He was getting tired, but he couldn’t sleep even if he was. He hadn’t been able to. He had gotten comfortable with tiredness. He knew it wouldn’t last forever, but adjusting to the new role was harder than he thought.

“They were,” Toph reassured him quietly. It was sincere- he had no doubt. Toph, who was usually loud and stubborn and a tough fighter, was more reserved at night than Zuko would have thought. Maybe it was because she was tired, or because she had seen her friends in full bloom for the first time. Whichever it was, he couldn’t tell.

They sat there in silence again, moments of tea being sipped were exchanged, but mostly just quiet. It was solemn, and peaceful. Nothing was in a rush to be said, no battles to fight or rebuild plans to do- it was nice.

“Zuko,” Toph sighed. “What do you look like?”

Zuko’s breath hitched in his throat as his heart rate sped up again. He didn’t know where to begin or what to say, and surely he was stupid for believing that she wasn’t going to just let him slide. He couldn't just ignore the brutality that slashed half his face. He couldn’t sit with the guilt that she didn’t know it was there because he didn’t tell her.

His eyes widened slowly as he came to a sudden realization of what Toph was doing. It was comical, truthfully. He almost laughed. This was her way of getting the story. He wasn’t sure how she knew that his banishment had something to do with his cosmetic looks, but he gave her props for it nonetheless.

He took a deep breath and locked his gaze on the wood table as an anchor.

“I’m tall. Tallest, actually. I have really pale skin, but that’s just a Fire Nation thing… I don’t consider myself to be… built? I’m not exactly like Sokka but I'm not crazy buff either if that helps. My eyes aren’t as big or… full of adventure as the others have. I don’t know what all you can see, but I know they don’t have that. They’re brown, but almost everyone in the Fire Nation has brown eyes. It’s nothing special. I have shaggy hair- well, it’s black, and I have to pull it back for Fire Lord stuff, so I guess shaggy is the best way to describe it. I like it, I guess. I don’t feel confined with it. I wear a lot of reds and golds and blacks, which are Fire Nation colors. Right now I’m just wearing a… red shirt and black pants? Black slippers? I don’t know if that part helps or not… I also always look dissatisfied. At least, that’s what Sokka tells me. I don’t really know what he means by that…”

Zuko paused for a minute. Toph was staring across to him now as if she could recognize where he was. Her eyebrows were stitched together as if attempting to put his puzzle pieces together.

“And then there’s my… my scar.”

Deep breath.

“It covers my entire left eye… It doesn’t even open fully anymore. It bleeds out around to my ear and stops just before my jawline. It doesn’t hurt anymore, in case you’re wondering. It’s healed. It’s been since I was banished, so… three years. But, it’s there.

There was more to that story, by the way. My banishment. I didn’t just say something and was kicked out. I didn’t back down from an Agni Kai to… well, to prove to m- … Ozai, that I was stronger than he thought I was. That I deserved to be in the meeting. I didn’t think it’d be my own father I’d fight. I pleaded for some kind of relief and reprieve. All I got was a burn so deep that my skin almost melted off…”

There was silence.

No tea sips, no shifting in chairs. There wasn’t even really the sound of breathing anymore. It was still air.

This story had the ability to do that.

“Can I feel it?”

Zuko didn’t question it, or back away. He nodded, even though he knew she couldn’t see it.

He pushed himself out of the chair and walked around the table. He slowly crouched down until he was level with Toph, his hand steadying himself on the corner of the table, his fingers circling the divots so smoothly carved once more.

He took Toph’s hand, almost twice the size more compact of his own, and gingerly placed it on his cheekbone. He swallowed and shut his eyes, allowing her small, calloused hand to run slowly over it.

Toph wasn’t a gentle person by nature. But the minute that her hand touched his scar she felt his pain a thousand times over- intense and deep and wretched. She moved her hand slowly across his face, the ridges telling each their own thread of agony and grievance. Her hand roamed, unsure of where or if it ever was going to stop. If the story of his pain was ever going to cease. She blinked back tears as she finally reached his jawline. Untouched and human. Boyish and youthful. Peace.

She took her hand off of his face and cleared her throat, unsure of what else to do. She had gotten herself to this point- to this level. Now what?

She felt his presence leave due to the shift in cold air that shuffled in and heard him sit back down across from her, respectively.

Again, there was silence.

Not the same kind of silence where it was stilted, or even tense. It was an understood silence. An ‘I know your pain’ silence. It was gentle and welcomed and fluid.

So, they sat there for a minute. Neither unsure of how else to go on or continue their conversation. They sipped their tea in offbeat patterns. Long, slow, drawls of tea.

As the sun began to rise, Zuko realized that his job was beginning. He wasn’t a banished prince anymore, or a kid with an uncontrollable rage and fear of his father. Although that kid still existed in him, it wasn’t center stage. Fire Lord Zuko was. And as the dawn rose, so did he.

He gathered the two pieces of china from the table, both now completely empty of their tea. He put them on the counter for a maid to clean later.

Zuko glanced back at Toph- still sitting at the table, only this time, she was looking at the sunrise from the fully-bloomed windows in front of her. He knew she wasn’t looking at the sunrise, but he hoped that maybe she was picturing her friends in the same ways he had said- hopefully, even better. There was a small smile on her face, too. One of understanding.

He knew then that although she wanted to know his past, there was a part of her that wanted to be able to see her friends, too. He’d never know why she had asked him rather than asking a more creative mind, or even a closer friend, but he knew he would always be appreciative of being the one who did it for her.

Zuko’s lips upturned slightly and he turned to leave, carefully in an attempt to not disturb Toph’s somewhat mediation.

“Hey, Zuko?” He looked back over his shoulder to the girl, her face and gaze unmoving from the now more evident daybreak.

“Thank you.”

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