#FUck I hate tagging are any of these characters even prominent enough to tag???

[garfeildfanpage]

Hanako VS The World

Nuance and critical thinking are two things that are very important when it comes to analyzing a character, especially when they’re written to be and portrayed as morally ambiguous. Along with that, main relationships aren’t always good or healthy. Bias is always taken towards a main character or fan-favorite, and that can lead to a very big lack of the aforementioned nuance and critical thinking. What does that matter? Well I’ll tell you what!

When it comes to fan bias no other character gets mischaracterized, excused, or completely misunderstood more than Hanako when it comes to the Tbhk fandom as a whole. And I think that it’s important to -I don’t know- understand the title character of the manga at least a little, because understanding him can really help with understanding everything else. So here’s that.

Selfishness

To start off, Hanako is very similar to the rest of the cast, in the sense that he is extremely selfish. Selfishness as a whole isn’t always malicious, in the cases of Kou and Yashiro that should be pretty obvious. With Aoi & Akane their selfishness manifests into parasitic and mutually destructive behaviors. And someone like Teru it’s selfishness caused by forced maturity and obligation, causing him to isolate and only trust himself and his ideals. Hanako comparatively is selfish for unidentified reasons, but it’s to be assumed it stems from Amane. Amane being depicted as lonely, self-interested, and generally antisocial, but all of this behavior isn’t dangerous is it? In the hands of someone like Amane, who is just a child, he can’t do anything outrageous (other than murder). Hanako on the other hand is capable of a lot, and with such capabilities, he does almost everything in his own self-interest and to the detriment of those around him.

Severance

Back to comparing characters, the fact that Teru and Akane’s interaction is shown right next to Nene and Hanako’s I think is a good point for comparing self interest. Teru throughout the boundary doesn’t tell Akane that Aoi isn’t returning, Aoi knows this (assumedly), Akane doesn’t, and Teru doesn’t tell him until they go past the point of no return. This isn’t entirely a selfish act on Teru’s part, Akane most likely would’ve died had he been told and stayed back, and Aoi didn’t say anything either. But it is still that, selfish. But see Hanako’s side in the same chapter, he doesn’t tell Nene anything either, he specifically doesn’t assure her that he isn’t disappearing permanently, he instead intentionally misleads her into thinking the opposite. And it’s not the first time he’s done something like this before either.

Everything for you for me

In the Picture Perfect arc, he forces Nene into a fake reality (along with Kou but he’s not important right now) and tries to make her stay. He pretends to not know what’s happening, and only breaks once he knows the illusion is fully broken, and then he just kidnaps her. If this really were an act of love or respect for Nene, He wouldn’t have been so forceful, he does everything in his power to make sure she doesn’t leave. And when he’s finally convinced, he switches to a different idea. When Nene said she wanted to live forever, Hanako instead of realizing Nene didn’t want unwanted help, he then went on to sacrifice her best friend so she could live. As he says himself, he values Nene over Aoi, which -and I can’t believe people think it is- is the most non romantic and messed up thing he could’ve done. He wants what he wants for Nene, not what she wants for herself, and that should show people that he does most everything in his own self interest.

Now, is he doing it maliciously or is he just doing what he thinks is best. Both, but that’s not exactly an excuse. He refuses to change, doing the same thing over and over again, always taking his beliefs seriously and disregarding what anyone else has to say because he thinks he knows best.

Ending notes

This isn’t to say Hanako is a bad character, he’s incredibly well written and it does take a little stepping back to first realize his actions are flawed. But taking that step is incredibly important when it comes to understanding Tbhk as a whole. Every character is flawed, every character does good and bad things, and understanding and not justifying the bad just because you like them is baseline for liking a character completely. Tbhk is also a comedy! And I actually do enjoy a good chunk of Hanako outside the drama, he is the title character, so you kindof have to find some part of him to like so you don’t drop it completely. And just remember I’m not a genius and this all just me saying whatever shit I think, I’m not a foolproof source of toilet knowledge, I’m just a guy who reads sometimes.

Idk how to end this uuhhhh ninja out *kickflip

[ryujnn]

► akuma ﾟ｡ ⋆ fallen and lonely (00).

► chapter summary ﾟ｡ ⋆ the founder of the shio clan. the arranged partner. the twins. the eyes. the doting mother. the elements. the sorcerer.

► chapter warnings ﾟ｡ ⋆ referring to women as “bitches” & “whores”. mentions of death. childbirth. mentions of alcohol. i know prologues are a pain but i strongly recommend reading this to understand the rest of the series. send me an ask if you have any questions.

tag list. visual + character board. prev. next.

SEVENTY EIGHT YEARS AGO.

Yuuto Shio loved being praised. Whenever he’d go out to pick up some bitch off the street; he’d lure them in by using his energy. He didn’t even have to try— was just so gifted. No one could ever say no to those black eyes.

“Ah, lookin’ for a good time, baby?” Yuuto raises an eyebrow to the girl, eyeing her body up and down. She’s got the skimpiest outfit, heels that she can barely walk in— and a few dollars hanging out of her bra.

She stumbles forward, raising a finger to the man in front of her. “Only if yur’ willin’ to give it.”

He tucks his ring and pinky fingers, raising the rest up to his face. With a flick of his wrist, her skirt raised, the wind suddenly blowing from right under her. She squeals, using a hand to stop her skirt from lifting up and exposing her bare pussy.

A whore who’s only thought is to be fucked senseless in the backseat of a strangers car would soak it all up; watching the random man manipulate the natural elements around him. He was the only who could, especially all five.

Therefore, it wasn’t hard for him to knock up five women. He didn’t mean to, but he didn’t care, either. He could just leave the women after they have his kids— and continue traveling the world right after. Keeping all five women in a janky and foul establishment; waiting for them to give birth to his children. 

All for him to leave after, but they didn’t know that.

As those nine months went on, Yuuto Shio realizes how much he hates the two top clans -- the Zenin and Kamo households. They started to grow bigger, gain more reputation. They were praised, they were adored for having such unique power. Energy that was inherited; and dominating the jujutsu world. All that attention for knocking up some women and birthing some powerful babies?

He could do that. Yuuto Shio wanted the power. He wanted to be a prominent figure. He wanted the praise... the attention... the money… the hierarchy. How come he’s poor and living in and out of stranger homes whenever they weren’t there— when he do exactly what the Zenin and Kamo clans can.

He’s the original bearer of five; he could easily breed and breed women, right? If he could have generations of strong men, all wielding one natural element; his family would become one of the strongest. He could topple over the Zenin clan. He could destroy the Kamo household. Then, he’d get all the praise. 

That’s exactly what Yuuto Shio did. He began the journey of the Shio Clan; with the ultimate goal of becoming one of the biggest clans with the strongest men on this earth.

TWO MONTHS AGO,

Moments like these are when you’re restless. Each step towards your father’s room made your stomach twist— the sound of your black pumps weren’t enough to distract you from the crippling anxiety bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

Your father — Sousuke Shio — now head of the Shio Clan, was one certain individual. Someone who feeds off power more than food, someone who’s impulsive, intimidating but most of all…. a sick and twisted individual.

Your feet stopped, tip of your shoes against the wooden door. Quickly, your dainty hands brushed the imaginary lint from your black dress, shifting from one foot to the other. Something was tugging at your dress, screaming for you to get the hell out of there. The feeling you had for this meeting…

It was horrible.

The door slid open. You didn’t have to check to tell your sweat had made an imprint on it— closing it a little too hard in pure anxiety.

A room filled with people. Your family. House helpers, chefs, a few household pets, two guards protecting each door in the room and your lovely parents. The chatter that had been going on halted, and all eyes were on you. The bearer of five.

This was something you were entirely used to. Eyes glued on you like were a black sheep in a pen full of cotton ones. Sticking out like a prodding thumb. You’d expect it from outsiders, but your own family? Give it a break, they see you everyday.

Bowing, you clasped your hands behind your back, raising back up and taking a few careful steps towards the platform that held your parents up on their respected thrones. You cleared your throat, raising your head to see the two people who had (unfortunately) conceived you.

“Father. Mother.”

“Y/N.” Your father responded, looking over to your mother. She’d stay silent, keeping her eyes stuck on you but speaking with a gentle smile, causing your nerves to settle just a little.

You adored your mother. The woman who birthed you and lived through years of torture, shielding you from all of it. You cannot express your love for this woman verbally or physically, but if you could wrap her up in a blanket full of that love, you would.

Your father huffed, “We’ve arranged a partner for you,” His head bobbed towards the guards, alerting them to allow in whoever was standing outside. “You‘ll be married in two months.”

“What?”

Before you got the chance to process the words that your father spilled, the latch of the door opened, snapping your head towards the entry. This quick? Also, how long did they have someone waiting how there?

Long legs, dressed in black slacks, entered the door first. Your eyes followed up his frame, following the hem of his pants, up to the white button down tucked below his satin belt. Typical matching suit jacket— a black tie being adjusted by his pale, slender fingers. His white hair framed his face, despite not being too long. A beautiful color contrast with his black glasses.

Yeah, you’ve got to be kidding me.

Even past the threshold, the man walked with confidence pooling from his pores. He took each step as if he’d own the place, no concern that this could be a set—up, his eyes catching yours for a split second before checking out one of your cousins beside you.

You’d be an absolute liar if you were to pretend not to know who he was— he was someone your father wouldn’t seal his lips about. Gojo Satoru, the head of the Gojo Clan. Possibly your father’s fucking idol (despite the questionable age gap).

In seconds, you coughed up a laugh, searching the rest of the room to see if anyone was onto this joke. No one cracked a smile. Not even a stifle. This was a joke, right?!

“I…” You began, pulling your eyebrows together, turning your focus back to Sousuke. “Father. I… I decided that I wouldn’t do marriage. I decided on fighting.”

“And I’m deciding you’re getting married.” He responded, almost as if he was answering something you should’ve known. Like you were stupid. “You cannot face your brother. You’re inexperienced, Y/N. He’ll kill you. We’re practically doing you a favor, here.”

“You’re not.”

The people around you gasped, stunned at the sudden tone change. Of course they’d all expect you to speak to your father with such obedience. Like a submissive dog. They wanted you to get on your knees and lick the shoes he’s traveled through the mud with clean— because you were a woman. That’s how he looked at you, and that’s how he expected everyone to.

“You… You gave me the option to choose. To fight or get married. I’m only inexperienced because I haven’t had proper training,” You look over to the guard standing by the door, the man who you’d ‘train with’ but only actually ran for an hour before he called it quits to find a box of Twinkie’s. “No offense.”

Your father began to grow visibly upset. If this was a cartoon, he’d be crimson red, steam blowing from his ears. Maybe even with a little horn, too. “You don’t get to choose anymore.”

“Does Ryou get to choose?”

Ryou — Ryou Shio — The unfortunate case of your twin brother. The other bearer of five. Rather, most people would use that term for you. The other.

The other. The sister. The woman. The second.

Considering you were a woman, you were frowned upon in your family. Unlike you, your brother has been traveling, training, learning how to use his unique power in different areas of the world. Somewhere in the dessert so he could practice air and fire, somewhere on a island to practice water, deep in the jungles to practice earth— and up on the mountains to practice space.

All the while, you’ve been here, stuck training with family members and guards who promise to “take it easy on you.” It was entirely unfair.

Your fathers hand slammed down on the gold of his throne, causing everyone in the room to jump. Everyone except for the white—haired sorcerer in the corner; who’d been leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He had the slightest smirk on his face, watching the whole thing unfold as if it was a sitcom.

“You know why Ryou gets special treatment?” He stands from his seat, storming down the steps, b—lining straight for you. “Because Ryou doesn’t act like a spoiled—brat, and takes what’s given to him!”

He stops right in front of you, towering over your smaller frame. “You seem to forget… You may hold all of this power, but that can quickly be taken from you. Your life was spared— you could’ve easily been put down like the other bitches before you.”

“Those bitches were your children.”

The way your family hated women was absolutely grotesque. A woman being born into the family and not being killed was rare— so yes, you had gotten lucky.

To anyone else, they’d love the princess treatment. Arranged marriage, stay at home, no violence, give birth. There’s just that 19% chance you’ll grow sick from carrying a baby with such power and die before you see your child turn 30.

“I’ll marry whoever you want me to, fine. Even if this is just a power move for you, I’ll do it.” Your fists were balled, your trimmed nails digging into the skin of your palms. Aim for blood… aim for blood. “But I am going to fight. Married or not.”

Sousuke laughs, access spit landing on your face. “Fine by me. I’ve rooted for your brother, either way,” He turns around, resting his palms on his stomach. “Less work I have to do.”

As your father returned to his chair, your mother stood to her feet. She was thin and frail— having a guard help her up as she pushed to her full height. Her bony fingers gripped his hand, keeping her eyes on you.

“Dress fitting, rehearsal dinner, cake—tasting and hair & makeup trails must be attended by you. We will handle the vendors, budgeting, invites and registry. The wedding is in two months, please confirm that you both will be attending.”

Whatever she had said went in and out of your ears. You couldn’t help but focus on your mother’s health that was clearly deteriorating.

Then, the voice behind you cut your thoughts right off.

“Confirm.”

You looked over to Satoru, sending him a questionable look. Why was he agreeing to this in the first place? He hadn’t met you before, doesn’t owe you anything either… considering the rumors you’ve heard about him, he’s usually off traveling or helping children.

What the hell was he doing?

“Yeah,” You looked back at your mother. “Whatever.”

TWENTY FOUR YEARS AGO,

“Give me one big push Himari,” The nurse hisses at her hand behind squeezed, biting back the urge to pull it away — she knew she couldn’t, disrupting an important childbirth can get you mutilated.

She pushes once more, the baby slipping out of her womb, additional nurses catching the newborn carefully in her hands. After holding the infant up, she assists the baby’s butt, showing the mother her knew child.

“The other is a beautiful, baby girl.”

Himari smiles, watching the baby girl squeeze her fists. “She’s…” She clears her throat, moistening her dry mouth. “She’s not crying. She’s moving but she’s not… she’s not crying, is she okay?”

The nurse looks over to the baby, watching her blow bubbles with her spit, opening and closing her hands. She smiles, looking back to the mother.

“She’s incredibly healthy,” She stands, moving to hand Himari her other, new bundle of joy. “Some babies don’t cry, especially gifted children. How about you hold her?”

Himari makes room with her other arm, already holding her son in one, next holding her daughter in the other. They have their designated blankets wrapped around them, one blue— the other pink. Her hearts swells at the sight of her babies.

“Ryou, meet your sister—”

The door opens, revealing the father of her children at the door. He squints at the colors of their blankets, huffing out a breath. Almost as if he was annoyed.

“Himari.” Sousuke walks over, three guards following into the room behind him. “You just had to give me a useless twin, didn’t you?”

The woman shakes her head, holding her children close to her chest. Her eyes went wide, fear oozing from her pores. She’s pleading with just a look to her husband. “Sousuke, please,” She cries, looking down to her babies and then back to the man before her. “Please don’t hurt her. They’re… They’re different. Look at them!”

Sousuke looks down at the boy who’s got his tiny lips attached to the woman’s nipple, baby hands grabbing at the flesh. The girl is still blowing bubbles with her split, puckering her lips and then poking her tongue out, repeating the process in different steps.

He frowns. “She’s just asking to get tossed.”

“Sousuke!” Himari pulls her eyebrows together, bouncing the girl on her arm. She beckons her over to him, Sousuke carefully raising her up and cradling her into his arms. “Their eyes. They don’t have color. They’re black. What does that mean?”

For a moment, Sousuke feels like he’s seen a ghost. His blood pauses for a moment and his skin goes cold. “B-black?” He uses two fingers to pry the girls eye open, looking deeply for any hue. Were they just a dark brown? That means she’s an Earth wielder. It’s really easy to mix the two of them.

But they weren’t. They were pitch black.

He quickly places the newborn baby back into his wife’s arms. “Don’t…” He begins walking, pointing to the three guards before exiting. “Don’t go anywhere! Guard this room with your lives!”

Sousuke storms off, and with each step, he grows more infuriated. A baby in the Shio Clan with black eyes hasn’t been born in over seventy years, not since Yuuto Shio had been born.

Was he really about to be surpassed? This quick? The heads of clans usually shift within fifty years— he’s the first person to take the crown after Yuuto. Sousuke has only been crowned for a decade. 10 whole years— and he’s about to possibly be surpassed.

The rules are as followed: any wielder of more than one element born in the Shio clan will fight for head of the clan— not just the head of their generation. Sousuke got lucky being born with three… he’d thought he would be the only child born with just more than one.

Now he’s got a set of twins— both wielders of five elements— and one of them is a woman.

…

When you were four, your mom would braid your hair.

“Mommy, how come you always braid my hair?” You looked up to the sky, watching the clouds slowly drift over the night.

Himari smiles, brushing your hair down your back. “Cause you just have so much!” She laughs along with your tiny giggles. You’re seated between her legs which were guarding your smaller ones. Both sat on the grass, ignoring the possible bugs crawling on your skin, simply taking in the sound of the wind. “It also makes you look strong. Strong women always have their hair placed nicely, just in case we have to take things in our own hands.”

You nodded, feeling your mothers fingers rake through your hair, beginning to braid. Your eyes drifted to the little, pink socks on your feet that your mother had sewed. “Mommy?” You call for her.

“Am I strong?”

She pauses before finishing up the braid, pulling out small strands by your ears to finish up the hairstyle. She turns you around, facing you towards her. Leaning forward, she gives you a grin.

“The strongest.”

You smile back, reaching off the ground to wrap your arms around your mothers neck. You melt once feeling her return the gesture, the smell and feeling of your mother was something you loved. You felt safe. You felt like you could do anything.

“I get it from you, Mommy,” You smush your cheeks with hers, small hands rubbing her back. “You’re so strong too!”

Himari feels a tear slide down her cheek, quickly wiping it away before pulling you from her shoulders, holding you up in front of her. “Time for bed, ‘kay?” She leans forward to kiss your forehead. “Grab a scarf and the book we didn’t finish last night.”

Nodding, you bounced off your feet, running towards your home. You waved to one of guards, slipping between them and entering the household.

Himari finally coughs into her hand, holding back the urge while you were around. She looks at her palm, seeing the red dots splattered around. With a simple sigh, she wipes it away on her pants before standing back up, following behind you.

…

When you were twelve, your mother would watch you play baseball with your cousins.

You spun your bat around, legs apart, taunting the pitcher in front of you. “Harutoooo!” Now raising the bat, you stuck your tongue out at your cousin. “You’ve got nothing on me.”

You loved baseball. You loved spending time with family and doing something so normal— you liked feeling warm with other people around. It reminds you that you’re living, that you’re not alone. You’re safe.

He laughs at your antics, shaking his head towards you. “No powers, either.” Once he raises the ball, you hear a loud voice boom from the side of you, halting the game — and catching everyone’s attention.

Sousuke walks with a boy beside him, his hand rested on top of his head. “Looks who’s joining us today!” He allows the boy to jog forward, following right after him.

The boy smiles, watching everyone drop their objects and run over to him. They all crowd around him, like a celebrity who’d just gotten off a plane, asking him multiple questions and welcoming him to the game— claiming how excited they were to see him.

How boring the game was without him.

Your father takes a spot in front of you, holding his hand out for your bat. “Ryou’s gonna take it this year, okay?” He retrieves the bat from you before walking back over to his son. He takes it every year.

“Ryou! How was the Sahara Desert?”

“You’re definitely gonna be the best clan member this generation.”

“Can you show us something cool?”

“Can you make it rain right now? Or make an earthquake? How about a wildfire?”

“It must be tiring having all that power. How’s your body? You doing okay?”

You frown, watching your brother soak up all the questions. Watching him get asked everything you wanted to get asked. He steals the show, like usual. He’s so cool. You’re nothing like him— you wouldn’t be anything like him. You knew that.

You were accepting it.

You look over to your mother, hoping to see that she was free and available to take you in her room and show off her huge lipstick collection— like she does every time she purchases a new one. You needed out of here. You wanted to see her seated in her spot under the umbrella, cheering you on like she did whenever you practiced. Not only did she enjoy watching you play— and have fun, she enjoyed the outdoors.

She loved being by the water or even sitting on some grass. Simple, she loved everything simple.

Instead, she squatted down, arms open as Ryou ran into them. She squeezes him tight, tired eyes peering down at him. She had deep bags, and her hands would shake all the time. She couldn’t hold anything without sitting down. She’d always say,

“I’m okay, don’t you get all worried about me.”

She places a firm kiss onto Ryou’s head, squeezing his cheeks between her palms. She mouths a few words to him before sending him back to the field, standing up and stumbling back to her seat.

You hated baseball. You hated being around the twin who was simply superior to you— feeling small with him around. It reminds you that you’re living, that you’re not alone. You’re second.

…

When you were eighteen, your mother would ask you to help her to the couch.

You helped your mother, safely sitting her down on the couch. She grabs the popcorn from your hand, keeping it warm in her hands. Her dull eyes peered up at you, forcing a smile your way. “Nothing sad. No sobbing into my shirt again.”

You huff, “Okay, rude,” You laugh, turning around to squat down at the television. “This isn’t sad, I think it’s action. That’s okay?”

You began flipping through disks in a container, searching for the movie you suggested, all while the smile on your mother’s face completely dropped. She raised a hand, placing it over her chest, shutting her eyes at the chronic pain in it.

She breathes in and out, forcing the pain that was hurting her out of the body. She slows her breathing, the pain slowly fading. The ringing in her ears began to quiet down, the blur in her vision subsided, and she felt okay again. Even if it was temporary, she was okay right now.

With you.

“Mom?” You looked over you shoulder, watching your mother meet your eyes with a smile. “Sound good— the movie?”

She hadn’t heard anything you recommended, and she didn’t need to. With a small nod, you returned the smile and turned back to the television, inserting the disc. “I’m telling you, this is really good. There’s a bunch of dinosaurs, but they’re cool ones, not the old ones they show in class…”

As you continued to talk, all Himari could do was look at your braid, the one she had did last night— under the stars— like normal. You had grown up so much. Your hair was much longer than when you were younger, too.

Once the movie was in, you walked over to the couch, snuggling under your mother. You were both stretched out, covered with a nice blanket she had sewed herself, popcorn accessible for the both of you to eat.

The limited time she had healed herself with was going to worth it. Himari wraps her arms around you, snuggling her face into your neck, making you giggle.

“M..Mom! You’re gonna miss the dinosaurs!!”

…

When you were twenty one, your mother offered you your first drink.

“Happy birthday, h…honey.” Your mothers shaky hands lit the two candles on your cake, slowly pushing it towards you.

You smile, looking up to your mom. Her hair began to break off, collarbones apparent, along with the bones on her fingers. She’s got the million dollar smile, though. That smile you loved seeing from her.

“Save your energy, mom,” You chuckle, reaching forward to blow out your candles. “Thank you.”

Although your mother was the only one who had ever wished you a happy birthday— who had ever given you a present or even a cake, you enjoyed it. It was like it was a tradition for you both. You looked forward to it every year.

Your mother sets a small glass in front of you, pulling another bottle from behind her back. It’s a dark liquid filled to the brim of a glass bottle— a very fancy glass at that. You’ve seen it before, seeing your father pour himself a glass whenever you both had finished bickering, or after having to visit a doctors appointment with your mother.

She tugs the top off, “Gotta drink the… the whole thing, okay? If you sip it… you’ll hate it.” It took her a little longer to speak now, having a full conversation with her was a little challenging, but she always made it work.

She could answer with a smile.

You nodded, watching her tip the bottle over and fill up the shot glass. Though, she never stopped pouring. It began to overflow, and after a few seconds, everything drops. Glass shatters and there’s a thud— and soon, your mother was on the ground.

“Mom?!” You dropped to your knees, ignoring the glass that had now stabbed you. You shook her body, attempting to wake her up, but it all failed.

“Mom!”

…

When you were twenty four, your mother asked the strongest jujutsu sorcerer to marry her daughter.

She orders the guard to drop the duffel bag onto the table, sliding over the bag of cash towards the sorcerer with her shoe.

Himari crosses her arms over her chest. “That’s 20 million yen, including extra protection for your students — and if you decide to have children, your kids will be the most powerful. You’ll get brownie points for that, too.”

Gojo sat up straight, legs crossed over one another, watching the entire situation unfold. He’s had multiple cases where mothers suggested their daughter for marriage, women have proposed to him— hell, he’s slept with a few mothers in his own lifetime. But never this. This was new. It was exciting.

He raises an eyebrow, eyes never dropping to the money. He wouldn’t say it, but he doesn’t need that. He spends the amount of money in that bag in two days, regularly — and that’s just that’s on absolutely nothing. Maybe some rare collectibles he’ll buy just for the fun of it.

Though, if she’s a woman from the Shio Clan— that has to be just her money. Gojo’s heard about the clan, he’s even heard about the men— had conversations with them before. He could figure out in seconds that this was off the job— completely behind the heads back. This must be serious.

This was risky… so why was she doing it?

“You want me to marry your daughter for pocket change and something I already give my students?” He leaned forward, uncrossing his legs to balance on his knees. “Thank you for the offer, I’m sure she’s a lovely—”

“She’ll die.” Himari keeps her hand on her stomach. Her words stopped Gojo from pushing off the seat to leave, stilling him in his position.

“She’s a twin. She holds all five elements, the first in the clan to do it since Yuuto,” She begins to cough softly, applying more pressure to her stomach. “Y/N wants to fight her brother. She holds a resentment towards him, so she’s not giving up on fighting him.”

“She doesn’t even have protection. She hasn’t fought a thing— she can’t even kill a spider without setting it on fire. She has no control… Even then, there will be no one.. no one in her corner after I die.”

Gojo pulled his eyebrows together. “Die?”

“The affect of birthing one Shio is already dangerous on the body… I just got lucky with having two.”

Obviously, Gojo feels bad. He feels remorseful for the entire situation. But marriage isn’t something you can just throw into the equation for a few weeks and then take it out. It’s like adding eggs to brownie mix, and someone tells you they’re allergic to eggs. You can’t take it out now, it’s been fucking mixed in! Marriage is serious— especially when it comes to merging two clans.

Himari clears her throat, looking down to her lap. Gojo’s eyes are rested on her, watching her push more and more pressure on her stomach— though he was curious about something.

“Why’d you pick me?”

She looks up to Gojo, studying his features for a quick second. He was either asking to get his large, ego fed, or he was asking out of general curiosity. There was no need to dissect, though. His answer probably won’t change.

“I read about what you’re doing for that boy, Yuta,” Himari smiles, looking back down at the material of her dress. “You’re fighting for that little boy. You’re not making it easy for him, either. It’s authentic, and I… I think you enjoy helping people. If I’m wrong, I’ll find myself out.”

He hums. Gojo’s banking on a lot here. He’s used to making reckless situations, having to choose between this or that— who’s life is at stake. He’s just not sure why this one decision is kicking him in the head.. he’s having a hard time deciding if this is a good idea or not.

Is there too much at stake, or is he afraid of being responsible for another mistake?

“If I agree, I don’t want your money, don’t need your protection…” He leans forward, close enough to whisper these words to her face.

“I need…”

©️RYUJNN: 01/02/2023. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. do not translate, plagiarize or remake any of my work! reposting my work is allowed — likes, reblogs & comments are appreciated.

🏷️ : @torufilms @luckimoon @itxtoyll @96jnie @goldfishesarecute @clreamon @creolequeen11210 @michikoyuu @patchi-chi @chieeeeeee @parkchanyeol-kr @shadowarchon @willowsversion @whoreforfictionalmen18 @weebotaku21 @regalillegal @rahhhhhrs @luckimoon @chuurroo @xiaosie @nonoiix @gh0stwish @ayatoru @zohraaa @dazailover1900 @tookiostqr @catoru-s @justwinterlights @kash2 @lightblueexorcist @tuzuis4thwife @nakachuchu @96jnie @clreamon @emissaire @vernasce-blogs @tsukifv @michikoyuu @oi-loverboy @holeyahsama @sanzuandmikey @vynlover27 @mnoaeiu @ginger0322 @prettyroxy @softiebadbitch @planetmarz @sugurugetosbitch @yare-yare0 @whippedbyikemen @lightblueexorcist

[meandmyechoes]

Dear Anon about the Video:

First of all, thank you, anon, for brining this to my attention.

Rationally, the gif probably went out of hand when it past 1k notes. The one before mine is made by @/mlmanakin​ from this set. They are the first two results on google when you type 'ahsoka and rex gif'. Just let it be known they couldn't bother to make their own clip or screencap but took two gifs off the internet. What does it say when a rex*oka shipper knows to credit a rex*oka fanartist but does not extend the same courtesy to gifmakers?

Can't believe I'm saying this again in 2022. I literally do not care about your shipping activities. I can only pray that newcomers have enough independent thinking to interpret canon without being misguided of what is mainstream in the fandom. Seeing Rex and Ahsoka romantically involved, as contradictory to canon as it is, it’s still an interpretive freedom I hold everyone to. However, what I find intolerable of the shippers, is how often they appropriate edits then put on such combative but hollow defence.

I can understand 'death to the author' but a gifmaker/fanartist/fan writer is literally NOT the author?? They are just a fellow fan and shouldn't you extend the same respect to their boundaries and intentions? It is as if they are entitled to any one making Ahsoka and Rex content having the same single point of view — theirs.

For me, every time conversation starts only after the hijacking of my non-ship post. As much as most in the fandom disapprove of it, there isn’t some kind of manifesto circulating condemning people for it. It comes up in individuals’ blog descriptions, but you don’t see a long post in the public TCW tag justifying why you should not ship it. The phenomena is definitely more prominent back when Season 7 was airing and there were just more traffic, as well as instagram algorithm allowing people to abuse irrelevant tags. Luckily or not, two years later, I haven’t seen a strong enough pro-ship argument based on canon character traits or interactions.

I literally cannot care because I've stopped making Rex and Ahsoka gifs/content for a while. The shippers as a catalyst withstanding. Which is terrible, because if I don't contribute to the sum of platonic Ahsoka and Rex content, the fandomscape will indeed by monopolized by the romantic stream I hate to see. Gresham's Law... how does one fight it...

It's a paradox. If I don't act on the problem, the situation deterioates, yet it is at my own expense and risks that I'm doing a 'public service'. I know I'm heavy with those words, but I also feel a sense of duty somehow. Not policing who you should or should not ship, but fandom etiquette about engaging with others' work.

I keep telling myself 'I don't fucking care' I start believing that lie (hoping to do that with live-action asherka), but things like this come back up and you either submit to reality or make a stand for yourself. I'm *this* close to quitting Star Wars (as an almagation of factors). The core of it is I'm SICK of tying a world I love, and has changed me for the better, with negative emotions anymore. Since the live-action debut, more than half the time I'm dealing with feelings of betrayal, anger, confusion, accusation and unfairness. I have enough in my life to feel sad about, thank you.

But I want to emphasize, anon, if you've read up to this part, that in no way you made a mistake in letting me know. It's not your fault, I don't blame you. Something like this is bound to happen, more than once, the moment I open the canvas. Heck, even before that because I kept seeing it happen to other gifmakers. I perhaps just underestimated how long that period would last. These thoughts were simply buried and made light of day only because of you informing me that. It's good to let things out.

[burnedbyshoto]

hawks_littledove.mp3

— You’re an avid listener to NSFW ASMR artist Hawks. It’s just your luck that he’s offered to have phone sex with you.

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pairing: takami keigo (hawks) x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, slight abuse of power/influence, phone sex, masturbation, degradation, praise, nsfw asmr artist!hawks

word count: 5,018

a/n: my keyboard is broken and i could actually cry. but hey, hawks do be sexy even tho I would never trust him with my life. also LOL this might be a call out to a lot of us, do not be offended or I will cry.

kinktober day 14 main kink: phone sex | kinktober masterlist

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Fantasizing about being in relationships with fictional characters was entirely healthy and normal.

That was something you believed to the core. It was fictional; thus, no one but you were to be hurt at the end of the day. The character, being fake, could never have an opinion because you must be real in order to have an opinion. So when you were between boyfriends, you discovered a new anime, and before you could stop yourself, you fell hard for a character.

It started as a mild obsession.

You had looked up fanart via google images, your heart warming when you saw the plethora of different fanart. The anime itself had been in circulation for a few years now, the manga for much longer, so the content was endless. Then google images wasn’t enough, and you began crossing into Twitter and Tumblr.

The fanart became better, more engrossing, and definitely much more NSFW. And then, one night during your endless rabbit hole down Tumblr after your daily search on Twitter, you stilled when seeing a new type of content.

⇒ grey fullbuster x reader

The obsession grew worse.

So much so that you had followed nearly five hundred self insert writers and artists on Tumblr, and maybe seven hundred artists, meta writers, and thread makers on twitter. But three months into consuming all the content you could find, you came across a new name that made you tilt your head.

Hawks Fierce Wings

It was a name that was being repeated and heavily talked about on both sites. It was an ASMR artist, apparently, and you frowned at the thought. You didn’t have anything against ASMR videos, but you weren’t exactly sure how to handle an anime ASMR artist. Were they cosplaying while making all those weird ASMR sounds? You really didn’t have any idea, but due to the immense boredom of your lazy day in, you decided to hell with it and tried out his most popular video.

It was simply entitled: Hawks is Jealous.

Did you have any idea as to who Hawks was? God, no, you didn’t. But if it was just some random cosplay he was going to do, you didn’t think it was going to matter. So as the only slightly educated ASMR listener, you never truly became invested when it was a thing; you slipped on your earbuds and pressed play.

The introduction screen faded into an illustrated picture of a slightly handsome man, and some calming yet tense music played in the background. You shifted, eyebrows drew as you waited for the ASMR session to begin, and when it did, you were not ready.

“I saw you walking around with that asshole today,” a voice practically growled in your ear, and you froze.

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

Oh, no!

For almost an entire hour, you sat glued to your sofa, your fingers digging into your lap as the jealous, spiteful words of this man named Hawks poured bitterly in your ear. His words were a near aggravated assault on you and definitely something you were beyond uncomfortable hearing from a stranger, but there was something about his voice that kept you there. Maybe it was the tenor of his tone or the way there was this sly, cunning scent to his words that he seemed to hide deep within his throat, but there was something that kept you there.

The second the passionate, heated kissing noises and heavy moans began to spill from his lips, you screeched, slamming your laptop closed as your cheeks pounded heavily.

Oh my god?!

It took a bit, but eventually, you were able to finish the audio and quickly figured out why he was an NSFW artist. You had never, ever heard a man eat a pussy fake or real as eagerly or vigorously as he did. Your hands were gripping the pants of your leggings, and your chest heaved.

Oh, motherfucking shit.

Finding out there were almost seventy other videos for you to still experience sent you scrambling for more, and eventually, you had to confess you were obsessed. Despite the anime fandoms you had discovered him for, Hawks seemed to be more famous for the content he created as himself. His real name was unknown by the looks of it, and he was only addressed as Hawks by his audience, something you caught on to quickly. So only after creating a new profile for his Youtube account, you made quick work of liking and commenting on every single of his already published seventy-eight nearly one hour and thirty-minute videos. 

Each one was different.

Each one filled with various roadmaps on how Hawks' scenarios would play out for you — the listener. When he used his own persona, he called the listener his little dove or his chicken nugget, sometimes his KFC thigh, or his shish kabob. 

You were glad at the very least he didn’t call you by any of those nicknames when pretending to fuck you at a speed only a “porn-is-my-only-education-on-porn” virgin teenage boy. You knew it wasn’t ideal, usually, but for some reason, it just worked. You commented on everything, read his summaries and thoughts on each video. Eventually, when you found yourself on his final, most recent video, you were ready to go a step further.

The Patreon app on your phone seemed jarringly out of place as you opened the app and subscribed yourself to Hawks' highest tiered option for the price of twenty USD.

And when you got your access to his page, you were immersed in more heavier, better content.

It was a goldmine in a sea of fools gold, and you absolutely went insane.

You weren’t sure if you were insane, needy, or just straight-up idiotic for scrolling to the very first Patreon post and indulging in the content Hawks created. 

There was a stark difference between the warnings alone between the Youtube videos and the Patreon posts. While the porn was readily accessible on Youtube, the kinkiest thing that ever happened in a video was a slight implication that Hawks had left the listener on a vibrator and fuckmachine as he went to go talk to the visiting neighbors.

It was a slight, tiny zone out and miss a detail, but one you had clung onto like an obsessed psycho and even commented on in your comment on the post. Of course, Hawks hadn’t responded, not that you had ever expected him to because all things considered, a video that was eight months old and hadn’t done that well, to begin with, didn’t seem like anything he would remember: notifications and all. 

But Patreon? Oh good, sweet, ravishing Patreon.

The very first video was of the following:

Stepbrother!Hawks fucks Stepsister!Listener in the stairwell during Christmas Dinner.

After praying and swearing to all the deities of the world that you were merely a person with a voice kink for this man and not, in fact, a perverted pseudo-incest worshiper, you clicked on it and began. It was downright sinful.

There were active voices whispered in the background as Hawks laughed about how fucking slutty you were for letting your brother fuck you like this. In the hallway, like a dog, where anyone in your joint family could walk out into. He laughed that you probably wanted it, how your wet ass pussy was greedily sucking him in, so how could you even begin to deny your lust for your brother.

You had to take a break five times during that audio.

Eventually, you do end up catching up.

Each video he had ever posted to your disposal, and most likely due to the different tier levels, you always commented on the videos. Even if it made you feel awkward for lusting over things months old, even if there were no other comments on the videos, which was much more common than you thought, you always commented and liked. It wasn’t anything ever crazy, you had seen the rarest comments bring a whole essay of analysis on why they loved it or the hating words, but you kept it simple.

Just something to keep Hawks spirits high without draining you even further of energy.

A simple: holy shit, that was hot as fucking hell!!!! you never disappoint me!!!

You never expected anything out of it; as a matter of fact, you had merely thought that you were doing the least by merely appreciating his creations when, one night, a few hours after you had gotten home. Your phone chimed with an alert.

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ in surprise; you hadn’t realized there was going to be a new release after he had just updated four days ago. Still, you popped in your earbuds and began the audio with a simple title.

i fuk ur stupid lil pus until u cri

He wasn’t precisely putting much effort into his titles these days, but his tags were definitely accurate and entirely explicit in what was to come. And in this newest video, the prominent tag was degradation.

You weren’t entirely into degradation, but still, you did what you had to do because you weren’t turned off by it. With the beginning sounds of the music playing in the background, you warped into the situation Hawks carefully carved.

But, oh?

Your face simmered with heat as Hawks dirty words dripped from the earbuds, the wet, squelching noise of your cunt and throat being fucked like some inanimate object made you soak through your panties as his disparaging words burned against your spine like a hot brand. After the thirty-minute audio was finished. Your body trembling with the aftershocks of an orgasm that had come despite the lack of actual stimulation of your clit, and you panted on your bed.

Opening your phone once again, you quickly liked the new audio and typed out your comment.

listen, i know i always comment about how fucking hot this shit is, but i have /never/ fucking soaked through my panties… you just did that and i expect a full refund for these panties 💦

You pressed send and, without so much of a second thought, continued your night. You had dinner, talked with friends, and ended the night curled back on the couch with a wine glass in your hand and a simple sit-com playing on the TV. The familiar sound of the Patreon alert rang in your ear, and you frowned, confused.

Grabbing your phone, you opened up the device and nearly shrieked at the sight of the information the notification that said:

Hawks F.W.: lets see those panties before i refund anything

A chill ran down your spine as you quickly put together the indications of this message, and you smirked, despite your quivering hands. 

Me: I have a seven inch dick requirement before seeing any of the goods — yes, that includes my panties

And from that very moment, you began a strange arrangement between you and the NSFW ASMR artist Hawks.

.

..

.

Working was the worst part of your life, you would say.

At work, you would sit in your small 4x4 cubicle, your shelves stacked with plenty of papers and items you needed, not to mention the computer that took up the majority of your desk. You weren’t quite sure what your job here was, you sort of sat at your desk and did meaningless assignments when assigned, but you did nothing for the most part. 

Before becoming an active Hawks stan, you would spend your time doing nothing playing video games. You had somehow managed to install a VPN onto your hard drive so that your employers wouldn’t be able to see what was on your screen outside of the home screen. They couldn’t trace what you did all day, but they could care less, given you got all your work completed on time and done in an over exceptional way.

But lately, since you had dropped into this… engrossed whore like relationship with Hawks, things changed. 

To be honest, it still shocks you to no end when he tells you that he had always been aware of you. Well, with your consistent, ever appearing comments on his posts and overall enthusiasm for everything he posted, it was hard to not be aware. The mental image of your soaked through panties after a long day at his own work had sent him over the edge, and he finally messaged you.

Through the DM’s in Patreon, the two of you grew to become quite the friends with benefits. He would send you countless personalized audio files because you had quickly confessed to your voice kink and how his voice sent your stomach into hormonal knots. In return, you’d send the picture of an occasional soaked panty, and if he was lucky, an audio clip of your pathetic whines back to his audios.

You couldn’t complain about this arrangement.

But as the number of his patrons doubled, and he wanted to entice his subscribers with paying him even more money, Hawks began to offer a bimonthly personalized five minute audios for his $20 tier. The fans poured into that spot, and Hawks and proudly sent you the new number of adoring fans he was getting. On account of growing platforms such as Tiktok, the number of new listeners he got was nearly exponential, as he currently passed one million followers last week. 

The cheeky bastard was also making enough money to stop working his regular work hours anymore. Choosing to transition slowly into his Patreon career while recording.

Hawks, however, seemed to have other ideas for your eventual personalized voice audio.

Hawks had simply asked if, by any chance, you were going to be working tomorrow the night before. Groaning loudly in recognition of your work schedule, you had texted him back that you were going to be working. Snidely including the fact that you weren’t rich like him, you needed the tedious old nine to five job.

Hawks: how utterly boring anyway u can b free around 2?

Me: Eh… probably not. Busy girl w busy schedule, ill be back from lunch so no break Why?

Hawks: well, u knw tht uve been amzing & th bst follower so i wanted 2 give u smthing better then the personalized audio

Me: Oh? Well, what is it?’

Hawks: pick up tmrw n find out

He had changed the subject immediately afterward by dodging all of your questions with ease. So you dropped it, and the two of you resumed a night of flirting. But now, sitting in your small cubicle, your eyes flashing to the clock that read 1:57 p.m., sweat began to build on your palm.

You peered down to your phone as you waited for something, anything from Hawks to show up. The fucker was too cheeky, evasive, and quick for his own good. You felt like pouting as you glared at the phone, waiting for the screen to light up.

And you stilled when finally, at precisely 1:59 p.m., your phone gleamed with light. You couldn’t abandon your computer mouse quicker than you did as you grabbed your phone, unlocking it, and reading the message from Hawks.

Hawks: do u have earbuds?

Me: Yes?

Hawks: good put them on n pick up

The moment you had read the first message, you were already pulling out your earbuds, synching them up to your phone, and placing them into your ear. But your jaw dropped when, for the first time, the call feature highlighted onto the screen, the time immediately changing to that of 2:00 p.m. The decline or accept button had never looked as daunting as it did right now.

Despite the call trying to go through, you still saw his follow up.

Hawks: if u dont pick up u wont get shit

[Accept]

You felt your heart hammering in your chest as both fear, apprehension, and excitement boiled through your veins, the hammering blood pounding in your ears as you waited for some sort of noise on the opposite side of the line.

“Little dove?” Hawks' voices filled your ears, and despite yourself, you smiled softly. The naturalness of his voice sends warm thumps down your spine.

“Hi, Hawks,” you whisper breathlessly, your head already checking to make sure your neighboring cubicle mates didn’t try to look over the divisions to stare at you. For the most part, the office building was quiet except for the phone calls, the clanking of computer keys, and the monotonous music playing softly on the speaker's head. 

“Whatcha doing?” he drawled, and you felt your skin heat up when you heard the all too familiar sound of his shoes hitting the top of his desk, the soft whine of his chair as he leaned back onto it. “Are you really at work?”

“What do you mean, am I really at work?” you squeaked, half horrified at the way the lazy, warm heat of lust was infiltrating your body at the sound of his voice, and the annoyance that he thought you had been lying? “Of course I am; it’s two p.m. on a Wednesday!”

“Ah, so little dove-chan is a raging pervert who engages in phone sex to bypass her long hours at work?” Hawks sighed his tone that of understanding and dismissal. You splutter. “You never fail to surprise me.”

“I do not do… that!” you stammer, your face feeling like hot cinders, your fingers and eyes double-checking to make sure that the audio was going to your earbuds and your earbuds only. You also couldn’t help the way your eyes swept around you, trying to make sure you hadn’t accidentally invited unwanted attention. “I said I was busy!”

“But, you picked up my call?”

“You said, or else!”

“Mmm, okay, I think I see,” Hawks tutted, and although you had never seen what you supposed to be his handsome face, you could imagine a lazy, toothy smirk on his face. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind using your little cubicle to talk you into fucking yourself good for me.”

Your jaw drops.

It hits the desk, and the muffled shriek of utter humiliation is only silenced because you bit onto your tongue like a rabid animal.

“Aw, you sound so excited for me already, little dove. I bet you want to know what I’m going to do to you, don’t you? I just know that I’m going to make you feel so... good…”

“Hawks!” you plea in a hushed whisper, your heart hammering where you sat frozen like a deer in headlights. Sure, you had definitely played his audios before to pass the time, but never before in your existence had you had actual phone sex. This was riskier than just listening to his audios; his audios always had a pattern, a way to escape from the madness of his voice when people were closer than you’d like. But this? No, there was no escape. “I’m at work! I c-can’t!”

“But, fuck, I want you so bad,” Hawks' voice dipped into a gravely tone, his voice just perfectly scratchy enough that your shoulders trembled in unspoken, untouched want. “I want to feel your cunt around my cock, baby, your pussy is so hot and I want to be the fucking lucky bastard that gets to fuck you through your bed.”

“O-Oh my god…”

“I’ve been thinking of what your tits look like,” Hawks continues on, his voice continuing in the style you liked the most. It was raw, heavy, and deep. No character impersonations, just him, pure Hawks. “I hope they bounce the way they do when I imagine you riding me. I want to see you moan when I kiss the underside of your tit, I want to see your face when you realize that you’re my girl, nobody's else's, but mine.”

Heat floods your panties at his words, your shallow breaths making him chuckle on the other end. 

“You’d be so lucky to be just mine, wouldn’t you, little dove?” Hawks snaps, his voice demanding a response, and you heave.

You look around, no one is near, and you croak out: “I’d be so lucky.”

“Louder.”

“I’d be so lucky.”

“Mm, there we go,” Hawks laughs, and your ears prickle for any noise that may indicate that someone was listening in. “What? Are you getting nervous that your needy ass will be heard by your coworkers right now? Answer me.”

“Mhmm,” you hum loudly, your cunt pulsing with more incredible heat and your hands shaking with a slight fear of being caught.

“Aww, don’t worry, little dove. I’m sure your boss will understand that you’re my newest fucktoy and will let me continue. Maybe they’ll want to join in?”

You whimper softly, shifting in your seat at that thought. You didn’t really want your boss coming anywhere near you, he was old and gross for one, and nothing could take the place of this beautiful man's voice in your ear right now.

“Oh, was that a no? You don’t want other people fucking you, do you, y/n? I bet you only want to have my cock in your tight little pussy, bet you want to watch the way that greedy little thing sucks me in, begging for my seed. Would you want me to cum deep inside you? You would like that little dove; you’d like to be full of my cum.”

“H-Hawks,” you keen as quietly as you can, your hips shifting uncomfortably in your seat, your heart hammering in your throat. The pressing heat in your cunt is growing, your panties growing with wet slick as Hawks' voice whispers down your ear, filling every empty and void space in your brain until you were having trouble focusing on the very much public spot you were in.

Hawks let out a soft, guttural moan, and you froze, face entirely combusting into an inferno as the familiar slick slapping of his fapping cock filled your ear. Immediately, you forgot everything.

“A-Are you—?!” you splutter, unable to find the words or the energy to come up with a way to ask if he was masturbating right now. Your eyes spun, your mind in a complete haze as soft, raunchy moans spilled from his lips, striking against your nerves and soul with each successive sound.

“I’m only trying to help you out here, dove,” Hawks growled, undoubtedly in effect to a rather loud smack of his fist colliding with his thrusting hip. “You’re the little office slut who picked up a phone call to entice in phone sex. I bet you knew exactly what I was going to do, and your pathetic, needy whore self caved to my instructions.”

Your fingers curled into the armrest of your chair.

“I bet this makes your boring ass job tolerable, the perfect distraction to a shit job, then imagining a few minutes of fucking yourself against my hard cock.”

“That’s not true!”

“No?” Hawks laughed, not believing you any more than you did. “So you wouldn’t hate it if I showed up and fucked you into the wall of your cubicle? You wouldn’t mind if I claimed your sweet-smelling pussy against your desk for everyone to hear? I know you can scream like a bitch in heat. I know that pretty little cunt of yours would milk my cock dry. Oh, I just know you would look so fucking sexy with your back arched, eyes closed, and you begging for hours just to cum. You wouldn’t cum without my permission, right?”

You gasped, heart fluttering, hammering in your chest as you shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak.

“I need a verbal answer, little dove.”

The heat in your core was blistering, your thighs shaking with your unadulterated lust and need as you ground into the cushion of your chair. All logic and moral long gone as he snarled and moaned your name in your ear, the slick of his fapping cock echoing like a great bell in your ear. You wanted to hear him cum, wanted to listen to the pithering sound of his echoing moans as he spilled the contents of his balls onto his hand — and how you wished it was your womb.

“I won’t cum w-without your permission!” you whispered, your skin shivering with your fear of being caught. 

“God, you sound like such a dirty fucking bitch. I bet your pussy is fucking soaked already. Bet you really want to run that slutty embarrassed finger against your clit but don’t want to be caught by your perverted coworkers,” Hawks hissed, his breaths turning into steady, heavy hot pants. You mewl softly, confirming his spoken thoughts, and he huffs out a laugh. “How many fingers do you normally shove up that pretty cunt of yours, little dove?”

“T-Three!” you gasp, your forehead pressing to the cool of your desk, your eyes glazed over and looking at the entrance of your cubicle, fervently wishing that no one tries to check on you as you grind against your stable chair. “O-Only three fit.”

“Fuck, you really do have a tight cunt, don’t you,” Hawks snaps, the wet sounds of his fisting hand around his cock a beautiful melody in your ear that makes you whine at the back of your throat. “Bet you can’t even fit cocks up your cunt without lube, huh. You gotta stay on top, or else you’ll get hurt with how thick and long my cock will be up that baby pussy of yours.”

“H-Hawks!” you grit out, the friction of grinding on the seat no longer working.

“Go to the bathroom, now,” Hawks commands, the small gasps on his voice from his approaching orgasm more than enough ammo for you to do as told.

You sprint to the bathroom, the slick of your cunt hot, and evident to you as you sped to the bathroom. Your phone clenched in your hand as you locked the door behind you, glad the room was empty. Barely managing to get yourself into the stall, the toilet paper placed on the seat as you raised your legs up, already prepared. The skirt you wore was bunched above your ass, and the panties you wore, stretching out around your knees.

“Sounds like you’re ready to start fucking that pussy for me,” Hawks laughs, but there's no humor, just bite. “Put in three fingers, now.”

Without even arguing or caring, three fingers slip into your cunt, and you cry at the feeling of your fingers completely stretching you out. The smell of sex and slick filling your nose as your fingers slick up, fucking your tight cunt as you moan louder and louder for Hawks. 

“God, your fucking pussy is so fucking wet, I can hear it from here!” Hawks moans, the frantic sound of his drilling hips gaining speed and momentum. 

“I want it to be you!” you moan, your face burning in your humiliation. “I want it to be you fucking my pussy, claiming me in this bathroom. I need you, Hawks, I want your cock so badly!”

“Fuck,” Hawks gasps, something tumbling in the background. “Such sweet words for a fucking dirty ass cumslut,” he growls, and your legs shake, your clit and cunt thrumming with your increasing arousal and pit of tightness in your core. 

“HAWKS, FUCK!” you sob as your hips try to start a merciless speed against your fingers, your body trying to match the speed in which Hawks was fucking his own hand.

“Keep screaming my name, whore.” Hawks gasps, his noises of pleasure beginning to grow louder and louder, your eyes crossing in satisfaction. “Screaming my name like the fucking slutty mess you are. All this shit just to get me to fuck you? God, you’re so fucking pathetic y/n. Begging for me, begging for more? I think you’re my favorite little dove ever, gonna make you mine whenever I get to fuck that pussy.”

“Hawks!” you wail his name again, your arms and pussy throbbing with the energy it takes to keep up with his inhumane speeds. Your vision seeing stars as you tremble more and more, your legs slipping from the toilet seat, yet. “I am your whore, your little dove. Please let me come, please! You fuck me so well, fucking hell, please, I needa cum, I needa cum!”

“Cum with me,” he snaps, his voice so deep, so dangerously smooth. It was precisely what you needed, the voice kink you had for his tenor exactly fulfilled entirely with that simple, last command. And just like that, your jaw slackens, head slamming backward, and pleasurable waves crash through you.

Your fingers still rock at your clit, and your vice gripped walls, your toes curling within your shoes as you soundlessly scream. Hawks, on the other end, is practically snarling, voice deep and altogether dangerous as grunt after grunt leaves him, and you can imagine the milk-white cum splattered all over his chest and hand. A beautiful, perfect sight that you wish you could see for yourself.

Exhaustion settles in your bones as you sit on the toilet, still entirely exhausted as you heave for air. 

“I think that was the best fucking orgasm I ever had,” you mumble, your eyes closed, not ready to stand up and move. “Thank you.”

“I’m good at what I… at what I do,” Hawks stumbles, husky exhaustion ringing in his own voice. “Now, little dove, finish up work, and I promise there’ll be a surprise waiting for you when you’re done.”

Not entirely agreeing, but not disagreeing with his command to go finish you last… two and a half hours at work, you begrudgingly said goodbye to Hawks before washing your hands and exiting the bathroom.

When five o’clock came, you watched as your phone screen lit up, and your face flushed as you read the DM from Hawks.

Hawks: this is my fav audio now ↳ hawks_littledove.mp3 but you surprised me today, so in case u ever want to have more fun sometime  call me 03-9183-2495 ;)

[bokubonk]

your name

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, insecurity, cursing

characters: Tanaka x gn!reader, Saeko

date: 04/11/21

word count: 1.6k+

It was Friday and you were heading to the convenience store to buy snacks for your weekly movie night with Tanaka. It was something you looked forward to all week considering he was the one you liked and these movie nights gave you hope that maybe he liked you back. After all, he never invited anyone else to them and they always led to you falling asleep in his arms, which he never protested to. 

It had been going on for a long time now since the two of you were childhood friends but over the years your feelings developed and now, you held onto the hope that the hours the two of you spent together meant something more. 

You walked with a bounce in your step, quickly picking out your favorite snacks, knowing the two of you had similar tastes. You rushed to pay for everything and quickly hurried out the door, wanting to be there to greet him once he came home after practice. 

He always scolded you for waiting out in the cold when you could be waiting inside but you wanted to be the first one to welcome him home so you always waited. For you, it was worth the risk of getting sick. 

You leaned against the wall, hands fumbling with the straps of your bag. It was getting colder and you were a little worried that something had happened. Normally, he got home within fifteen minutes of you being there but it had been almost forty five minutes and he had yet to show up. 

With furrowed brows you decided to knock on the door, hoping that maybe Tanaka had been told to stay behind to practice and your expression brightened when you saw Saeko.

“Oh? Y/n, what are you doing here?” she inquired, her voice raspy and her cheeks flushed from what appeared to be a cold. “Did he not text you?”

Your smile dropped and your chest tightened.

“What do you mean?” 

You nervously gripped the bag of food in your hand, reaching into your pocket to pull out your phone.

Your eyes widened when you saw the message on the screen that had clearly been sent hours ago. 

I’m going on a date tonight so I gotta cancel movie night. I promise I’ll make it up to you.

“Oh,” you murmured, blinking away your tears. She stared at you with pity in her eyes and you put on your best smile, hoping she wouldn’t be able to see through the cracks. 

“I guess I’ll just head home then. Have a good night,” you said, struggling to keep your voice steady. “It’s getting late so you should stay inside and rest,” you handed over the bag of snacks, “I know it’s not going to do much for your cold but you should eat these if you’re hungry.”

She shook her head, her eyes full of concern and she went back inside to grab her keys. “C’mon, I’ll drive you home. It’s not right for you to be out so late at night without anyone with you.”

You shook your head.

“It’s okay. It’s not that far of a walk anyway. I’ll be alright.”

“That brother of mine may be an idiot but I know how much you mean to him. I just don’t understand what he thinks he’s doing, going out on a date with someone else.”

You let out a laugh, “Yeah, I guess that makes two of us.”

It wasn’t a surprise that Saeko was sympathizing with you, considering how obvious your feelings were for her brother. Often, you saw her winking at you whenever she would spot the two of you cuddling in his room. Anyone could see how you felt about him if they looked hard enough but you figured you didn’t matter enough to Tanaka for him to realize you were in love with him. 

Perhaps this was your time to let go of him. Maybe this was fate’s way of saying you should give up. 

You let out a bitter laugh and steeled your nerves for what was to come. But you were comforted with the thought that at least he would be happy with whoever he went out with tonight even though you wished with all your heart that it was you. 

By the time you came home, you were no longer in the mood to eat anything, your thoughts so preoccupied with who he was on a date with. 

What did they look like? Did they make him smile? 

You laid awake, thinking about all these possibilities and you hated yourself for it. You hated yourself for still holding on even though you promised to let him go. 

It certainly didn’t help that you had the weekend to dwell on your thoughts and it was taking a toll on your health. Your dark circles were more prominent and with Monday coming up you weren’t sure how you would face him. 

So you did the next best thing and decided to avoid him at all costs, walking the other way whenever you saw him in the halls. You wondered if he even remembered you were missing from his life but from the goofy smile on his face whenever you stumbled into his path, you figured you had been forgotten. 

It hurt to know that after so many years, you had been so easily forgotten but you were glad that at least he found someone who made him happy. 

But when Friday came, your plans to ignore him went down the drain when you saw him waiting for you after class ended. You tried pushing past him and pretending you hadn’t seen him but he only came after you, grabbing you by your wrist and dragging you into an empty classroom to talk. 

“What’s going on?” he demanded, “Why are you ignoring me?”

When you only responded with your silence he let out a sigh, “If it’s because of movie night then I promise I’ll never cancel on you ever again. The date sucked anyway.”

“I don’t want to hear about your date, Ryu,” you replied, trying your best to ignore the tight feeling in your chest.

“Hey, hey, why are you crying? I said I’m sorry. Do you want me to take you shopping to make it up to you? We can have movie night every night if you want, anything, please just stop crying.”

You could tell he was desperate, but you were too hurt to allow things to go back to the way they were before. It had been too long that you allowed yourself to have feelings for him when you clearly knew he didn’t feel the same. After all, if he did then why would he go on a date with someone else.

“It’s fine. We don’t need to have any more movie nights. I’m getting pretty busy anyway. I’m sure you have to practice late too. You should prioritize volleyball.”

You kept your voice steady even with the tears streaming down your cheeks but that only made him more frustrated. Tanaka knew you were upset but unlike before, now you were refusing to forgive him and he was worried that he had fucked it all up and this would be the moment he lost you.

“What the fuck, y/n? Why are you being like this? I already apologized. What more do you want from me?”

He didn’t mean to be so forceful with his words but your cold demeanor worried him and he was desperate to bring things back to the way they were. 

“I want you to love me,” you sobbed, unable to bear putting up a front any longer. “But I know you don’t and I’m trying to let you go so please just leave me alone.”

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “Who the fuck said I didn’t love you?” 

“You went out on that date,” you sniffled.

“Yeah? Were you jealous?” he asked, his voice soft. He cursed himself for making you cry but he couldn’t hold back the affection in his voice now that he knew you felt the same. Tanaka only wished he had known earlier or he would have never wasted his time going on a date with someone else. 

“Of course I was,” you scoffed, “You don’t see me going on dates with anyone else so why would you go out with someone else if you had feelings for me.”

“Because I was trying to get over you and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship,” he admitted, lowering his head in a sort of bow. Now that he thought about it, he realized just how stupid he was and he hated himself for ever thinking it was a good idea in the first place. “But I ended up fucking myself over anyway because the date sucked and you started ignoring me.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” you muttered while he lifted his head and quirked an eyebrow at you. You rolled your eyes and he gently took your face between his calloused hands so you couldn’t look away. 

“Hey, y/n,” he murmured, his eyes bright. “Ask me why the date sucked.”

You furrowed your brows, unsure but you followed his command anyway.

“Why did your date suck?”

“Because it wasn’t with you,” he replied, leaning closer until he was inches away and you were a hairsbreadth away from kissing. “You were all I could think about and it got to the point where I accidentally called them by your name.”

“Now, tell me. Can I finally do the honors of taking you out on a date?” he questioned.

“Yeah,” you answered, your breathing hitching as he closed the distance between the two of you.

“Good, because I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”

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[dragynkeep]

rooster teeth + their antisemitism.

bringing this thread over but it can also be found on twitter here. ♥ 

disclaimer : i am jewish + have been watching rt's work (mainly rwby) for like 3 years now. i'm not saying they're aggressively antisemitic but bigotry doesn't need to be violent to be bigotry. ignorance is also not an excuse.

the most foremost + prominent of their antisemitic behaviour is their animated show "camp camp", which i've pointed out before in other tweets the absolute bucket full of antisemitic caricatures + "jokes". they were asked about this in an ama + this was their response.

this ... is a piss poor response. the featuring of antisemitism in their show for jokes did nothing to address how cruel + hateful + harmful antisemitism & those who follow that mindset are. they did nothing to "condone" antisemitism in their jokes because there's no push back.

the characters used for these jokes, a literal adolf hitler stand in, are idolized + adored by the fandom. by the creators themselves. all you need to do is google the character's name or look in their tumblr tag + you'll find cute fanart for days. of a literal dictator stand in.

camp camp has been called out by jewish people before, for the weird amount of antisemitic "jokes" in it that feature the character "dolph" (our adolf hitler stand in) targeting the only jewish character in the cast, neil. this features mainly in the episode reigny day.

the show is directed by a jewish man, @/JordanCwierz (not that it excuses the antisemitism, you don't need to propogate hate against your own people with your shitty comedy show) but the episode itself was written by @/kerryshawcross, who is not.

in the episode reigny day; there are multiple references to jewish suffering + prominent jewish figure anne frank. from neil hiding in the attic, writing in his diary; to dolph demanding the other kids write numbers on their arms in reference to the concentration camps.

& for all rt said the want to "condone this hate"; at the end of the episode, dolph is given an award for all he did during the episode. this isn't condemnation, this is literally praise! this is making fun of a genocide that some people still to this day don't believe happened.

and when you look at the comments, well. i'm not seeing any condemnation, rooster teeth. i thought you were shedding light on the dark parts of the world to not condone it? mind telling your fans that?

the references to the tragedies during Shoah (the holocaust) isn't just contained to reigny day; it also featured in the premiere episode of season 2 of camp camp — cult camp. there, they reference the gas chambers used to murder jewish people. & they lampshade it too.

again: while this show is directed + overseen by a jewish man, that does not erase the fact that these tragedies, that are *still denied by a good chunk of people in modern day* are being used for comedic value with no push back or condemnation. & are written by two non jews.

it's even more frustrating when in the episode reigny day, there was a genuinely funny joke about neil's jewish identity that didn't play on tragedy or antisemitism! they can do this but choose to be lazy + co opt a genocide for humour !!

i haven't even gone over the breadth of "jokes" mired in antisemitism or just plain RACISM in that episode but to quote a handful : 

adolph saying juice to mean "jews" when neil was hiding in the attic

adolph not approving of "mixing colours"

adolph does the nazi salute

so this was camp camp. unfortunately, the antisemitism is not contained only to camp camp, it has it's roots in rooster teeth's other main ip; rwby. mainly with the treatment of the characters coco adel + adam taurus, though in different ways + from different audiences.

the antisemitism through coco adel comes from the person her character is modelled after; known nazi collaborator, coco chanel. coco adel is a "fashionista" who follows her teams "themeing" of sweets; her's being chocolate. however a large portion of her design is based on, coco chanel, as seen through her famed necklaces, beret, the bag, her emblem and her colour scheme of black + gold.

while coco chanel is known for her fashion company; she's also known for the fact that she built that fashion company on the back of being a nazi collaborator. this woman spied for + slept with nazis. it's not outright antisemitism but it is uncomfortable + inappropriate.

especially when : a. coco (adel) is a lesbian, + would've been killed by the people that her major inspiration supported & b. we need to stop elevating antisemitic icons to fame because they were "infamous." there were plenty of other fashion designers to use.

i had brought this up before + non jewish people in the rwby fandom were quick to jump to rooster teeth's defence, despite their previous antisemitism, & play the martyr for this company of majority non jewish people.

rooster teeth are not stupid, no matter how much they try to convince you they are so they can have excuses for things like the entire white fang plotline or how may zedong sounding like mao zedong is just a coincidence, or how they refer to a chinese character as a ninja.

from coco we go onto adam which is more of a fandom thing, but has been encouraged with the weird amount of ableism coming from vas + writers alike with his backstory + storyline. adam is a faunus, an ethnic minority in the world of remnant that are poc - coded.  in his backstory he was a child slave to a racist company who was scarred using a branding iron over his eye. this was very reminiscent of african slaves being branded when they tried to escape but is overlooked by the majority white fandom.

people also feed into the hate for this character with a va, arryn zech’s unfounded headcanons that he was a "psychopath who tortured animals as a kid"; miss zech has her own history of ableism that's excused but to put this on a minority character is disgusting.

this all feeds into how the fandom will call adam a "nazi"; he follows his own ideal of how faunus are superior to humans + that they will rule remnant given the chance. a gross mentality but not one appropriate to call him a nazi. why?

because nazism is white supremacy.

nazi ideology is directly tied to the ideal of a white, superior race that should rule. adam is a POC CODED CHARACTER. he is part of the minority in remnant + the writers compared him to malcolm x, which is a whole other bag of cats that is inappropriate for me to comment on.

comparing fictional characters to nazis is antisemitic in and of itself. nazis are still very much real and a dangerous threat to jewish people to this day. we don't need goyim appropriating our struggles + fear to hate on a fictional character. yet it keeps happening.

overall; rooster teeth is not outright with their antisemitism. but that's the point. these are majority non jewish creators either unaware or uncaring of the hatred they are validating + do not care enough to fix it when we are tired of it.  this mentality then bleeds into the fandom itself + puts jewish members of the fandom at risk. it makes us feel uncomfortable, it hurts us to see other members of the fandom idolize people with this mindset + the antisemitic characters they create.

at the end of the day, there is a culture here that has not been addressed completely. they will pay lipservice to jewish fans (with the chanukkah tweet) but then keep playing into stereotypes + harmful antisemites. it has to change + be acknowledged. by rt + the fandom alike. @ people in the rooster teeth fandom, who enjoy rwby or camp camp, LISTEN TO JEWISH PEOPLE. we are uncomfortable!! we are hurting!! we are tired of you not fucking listening to us because you don't think it's antisemitic as if you're the people being hurt. do fucking better.

[volfoss]

Giomis 🥰🥰🙏

omg love and light u wanted to see me SO pissed tonight <3333

not even apologizing for this one but if u ship them uh fucking burn <3 but ill separate into bulletpoints for ease of reading

the fucking age gap besties are u really out here thinking an 18 year old quote unquote lusting (from what ive seen from fanon, its uh like that) after a 15 year old isnt predatory

so uh teehee let me kinda go thru some of the points id imagine the gross bitches would make for wow omg giomis canon:

affection: so its literally? like very easy to see that mista is someone thats canonically affectionate (ie stuff w narancia post the sale fight) and absolutely not remotely a reason to be like omg wow theyre so in love wow hes hitting on this 15 year old

the whole gun scene with the cioccolata fight when giorno was literally just?? like not fucking grabbing the gun from his hand, like hes not shooting steadily w one hand so he was steadying himself? especially when he presumably doesnt have a lot of use with a gun

the scene post the ghiaccio fight as if araki hasnt literally done this shit before (which idk to me it kinda uh feels a bit homophobic in the way of not treating gay ppl seriously but besides the point) with avdol and joseph and ive never seen anyone really be like omg this is THE part 3 ship the way that giomis is very much like a prominent part 5 ship

idk like im sure some ppl are bringing up shit like wow they work together in fights (which literally ALL of the main team do) or wow theyre the only two alive at the end but i literally will not go into that tag to find out idc

but onto the reasons i literally just do not get the appeal and hate it and will personally send u to the incinerator if u ship it. there is like 0 chemistry but also fanon understands these two guys like the least? wow i sure love reading fanon where its giorno cardboard cutout giovanna and guido horny as shit to the point its noncon mista

like not remotely that it would be good without the fandom not understanding them at all, but it just adds another layer onto this shit sundae

canons timeline of a legit week or less doesnt remotely give enough time for anyone to really develop meaningful relationships (which wow is why i literally do not understand like ANY giorno ships because dude he knew them for a week at most and thats nowhere near enough time to like get along with anyone or know them enough esp w like idk fugo and trish) but sure we're gonna slam these characters together because wow the main jojo HAS to be with someone else because god the jjba fandom is so fucking shitty with shipping everyone with someone but thats also just a general fandom problem

i just i dont see how hard it is to realize hey maybe lets not do a 15 year old and an 18 year old (im also fucking subtweeting the gross fucks that are also out here like omg trish x mista.... die <3) because literally the 18 year old has a few years on the 15 year old and it can definitely be positioned as a grooming situation

ppl just really fucking slam both giorno and mista with anyone that moves and its like? why? why does watching a show mean u have to ship people? why do people ship BOTH of them with fucking diavolo and members of la squadra? idk maybe its not enough that giomis in of itself is disgusting but people really make shit worse because they just dont know how to handle these characters

its literally just a friendship my guy, did u forget when mista shot giorno like unprompted? idk not like wow omg cute ship material. people just really need to pair giorno with ANYONE and cant even think of him as his own character (also a problem w mista fanon wise, but idk i blame giomis for this bc of how prevalent it is)

its so so hard for people to just realize hey not everything has to be romantic and not everything has to be interpreted as romance

anyways teehee fucking perish if u like giomis and block me 😍

[signed-yours-truly-the-whale]

Thoughts/Observations on Joker, part 1

AKA I Spent 7 Hours on This, I Will Die if it Gets Less Than Three Notes

I could rave for hours about this movie’s cinematography. Literal hours.

Nobody talks enough about Arthur’s full-fledged dedication to his clown craft. Man is working 60+ hours a week and does not break a sweat. I also fucking love this clowny face he pulls here. The first shot we see of Arthur in full. Holy shit is it beautiful. God bless Joaquin Phoenix.

These two shots together are incredibly important to me. In a split-second we see Arthur’s disbelief that he cannot control the whirlwind of emotions inside of his own head, not even being able to produce a smile, and then his resignation because it’s just another day. Heartbreaking.

Awwww shiiiiit

Gotham City is such a dump but I’d be bullshitting myself if I said I didn’t love the grimy aesthetic of it. It’s technicolor trash.

Arthur loves his job so much. He genuinely enjoys being Carnival. That hurts a lot to think about in hindsight.

This man just got his ass handed to him and he is STILL SPRAYING THE FAKE FLOWER ON HIS VEST

YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT DEDICATION

This opening card is so imposing. Not only does it take up the entire screen to the point of running off the edges, but it’s shielding Arthur from view. Arthur is invisible in light of Joker in Arthur’s own movie.

I screenshotted this by accident but I felt a need to put it here because he’s just so adorable. Even right before an episode.

E y e s s s s s

E Y E S S S S S

I desperately want to know what got Arthur sent to Arkham the first time. A suicide attempt? A public breakdown? I really want fanfics of it.

There’s a really, really good fanfiction on AO3 by Arthur_Fleck about Arthur slowly recovering and meeting a girl called In the Major and Minor Arcana

I highly, highly recommend it

Okay. Joaquin’s immersion into his characters -- all of them -- is absolutely incredible. But Arthur is just ... off the charts, man. No two of his characters are the same and he embeds himself so deeply in their skin, but Joaquin buried himself so deeply into Arthur’s brain that it is so hard for me to see any of Joaquin at all. God, he’s incredible and this shot makes me emotional because this just is Arthur.

ARTHUR WOULD BE A GREAT DAD AND I DO NOT ACCEPT ARGUMENTS

It really speaks to how shitty Gotham is that this man is having a full-fledged screaming/laughing breakdown on the bus and nobody is batting an eye

I adore how the cinematography paints Arthur as so small to his own environment. He’s a speck of dust. A fleck.

Babie is wincing :((((

I have been trying to figure out the layout of this apartment for months and my inability to, even with a floor plan, is driving me insane

I just found out that the Budweiser beer jingle Here Comes the King is on the soundtrack and plays when Arthur comes home and that made me go feral

I  A M  M U R R A Y , K I N G  O F  A S S H O L E S

It is second nature for me to do this stupid pose every time I watch this scene

Arthur blending into the crowd here makes me ... so happy. He looks so happy.

This is Arthur’s best laugh of the movie, fuck you. I am incredulous that I was the only person laughing when I saw this in the theater opening night.

This is one of the few moments I really see Joaquin shine through Arthur. I don’t know why, but this lighting and his voice and his intensity gives me visceral flashbacks to watching a little boy Joaquin in Parenthood. God, I love this man.

It really is a testament to Penny’s (lack of) parenting that Arthur is day dreaming about receiving affection and validation from a parent figure when his own mother is literally right there

GOD DAMN THIS MAN IS GORGEOUS

But also big bruise :(

Yes, I shall trust you, man named Randall smiling down at me in low angle light

Why was Hoyt not informed that Arthur got his ass beat on the job? As Arthur’s employer he should’ve literally been the first person to know so he could make a note of it. Either he wasn’t told or he gave so little of a fuck that his consciousness astral projected to another plane of existence while he shoved the white powder down his throat and forgot Arthur existed at all.

Literally fuck Hoyt. I hate him even more that his office is the coolest shit in the world

ARTHUR KNOWS THE CUSTOMER SERVICE SMILE

Joaquin dislocated his knee in this scene, the poor boy

I could write a full damn essay about why the misleading advertising of Sophie as a prominent character was the greatest twist of the whole movie. Literally I am still speechless how the movie did that.

I am not kidding when I say my sister has this same color scheme in the bathroom of our house and realizing that made me werewolf

Also Arthur being the son Penny doesn’t deserve warms and breaks my heart

The complete lack of reaction to Penny’s “Don’t you have to be funny to be a comedian” makes me laugh and cry internally

This shot? Gorgeous. His face? Deadly. That jawline? Cutting diamonds. Hotel? Trivago.

I really, really want a Joker 2, but at the same time I do not want a Joker 2 because Joaquin Phoenix has a baby who needs him now and he cannot be pulling shit like losing 52 lbs for a role

Also I REALLY need to discuss how much this brass ballet reminds me so heavily of Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs. Holy fuck, I got actually chills in the theater

Like holy fuck

And then this shot reminds me so heavily of the opening of Fedddy vs Jason with Freddy Krueger laughing over his newspaper collage of missing children. Holy fuck I love this cinematography.

Guys. G - Guys, his name tag says Dr. Carnival, can you hear me  s o b b i n g

This part is so Chaplinesque, the way he slides the gun into his coat again

These children look so afraid of him for dropping the gun and wowie, does that really hurt

Was this asshole supposed to be modeled after Eric Trump? Because I get really douchebaggy Eric Trump vibes (minus the jacked teeth) from this ringleader

I don’t have much to say here except I am in love with the way Artie’s hair sticks straight up in bottle curls when the clown wig slides off

Also if you decide it’s a good idea to mess with a man dressed as a clown laughing maniacally on the subway of one of the most dangerous cities in the world, you are asking him to shoot you and I will not feel sorry for you

I will never not be in love with this image. I fell in love with it in the teaser trailer and almost went feral in the middle of the mall when I saw this was the poster they used to advertise the movie with. My friend described this movie as “chaos, beautified,” and nothing sums it up as well as this picture.

JOAQUIN AND TODD MADE THIS ENTIRE SEQUENCE UP AND I AM IN LOVE

Hello, handsome

[bubblyani]

Back for Good

(Jim Davis x Reader)

A Jim Davis One Shot

Movie: Harsh Times (2005) by David Ayer

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Alcohol use, Swearing,  Violence and Sexual Content

Word Count: 9k+

Summary: Your spirits are lifted when your older boyfriend Jim Davis returns from the Army for good. As the lovers passionately reunite, you begin to reminisce the first encounter, and the unforgettable event that sealed your fate with Jim, possibly forever.

Author’s Note: One of the fantastic Balehead Accounts on Instagram once posted a photo of Jim Davis with a caption more so along the lines of “…Older boyfriend Jim visiting you at College…”. It was too irresistible to ignore. So this story was born. @tammykelly You are an angel to even show some enthusiasm towards this, even before I started, Thank you for the encouragement ! Hope y’all enjoy!

P.S: If anyone want to be tagged in specific Bale! Character fics please do let me know. And if you wanna be removed from anything NOT BATMAN, please feel free to let me know. I understand completely. 

Three.

It costed three people. Merely three for this nightmare scenario to enter reality.

A tall young man panted fast, his right hand assuming full responsibility for the broken bottle, not to mention the intense bleeding that resulted from it. All the while he stared down at his finished product: a much younger man. He watched the figure groan for his dear life, laying defeated and thoroughly bruised; as a weak stream of blood appeared prominent from his head as well, adding a splash of bright color to the dark and dusty pavement. Only in that moment, realization and bitter reality coupled up to surprise the standing man, with a sucker punch.

Which was transparent enough for the young woman beside them, the witness. Violence, Danger, her trembling heart sensed it all. For that was what his strong aura emitted. However, never did she flinch. Never did her heart consider retracting from him. On the contrary, she was compelled to trust him even further.

Especially when she sensed complete safety in him, above all others.

“Let’s go”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 (Present)      

The dusky skies appeared just as serene over South Central Los Angeles as anywhere else in the country, filtering over the streets and the neighborhoods. Cruising through in favorable speed, Mike Alonzo finally took his eyes off the road, permitting them to land on the tall, young man sitting beside him on the passenger seat: his best friend, Jim Davis.

His downcast expression was evident, with his tall frame sunken into the seat. He stared right ahead, while he sipped his bottle of beer in his suit. This posture was nothing short of a surprise for Mike to glance upon. If he had squinted his eyes, he swore he could imagine Jim as the rebellious teenager he once was. Only with a new buzz cut. Otherwise, it seemed that nothing had really changed.

Except it had. Older and forced to be responsible, they were facing times considered very harsh. And Jim just had a taste of it.

“Sorry, dude”

Mike began, looking back at the road. Shaking his head with disbelief, Jim sat up in slow motion as his teeth began to grind.

“Man! Fuck…this...shit!!”

Jim drawled with disappointment, enunciating every word whilst holding up a piece of paper, “I’m so done with this cop hate bullshit!” He added, taking another sip of alcohol. Mike nodded:

“Yeah, dawg. Forget about that! ” He smiled, smacking his friend on his shoulder in a playful demeanor, “Hey, Syl is cooking tonight…You wanna join us, bro?”

The possibility of his girlfriend Sylvia agreeing to this, was at an all time low. Mike was well aware. Yet, he was certain it was a question worth posing to his friend in need.

“Nah, man! I got plans”

Hitting the brakes in front of the stop lights, Mike looked at his friend again with surprise, “Yeah?” He inquired, looking quite pleased. Finally flashing a proud smile, Jim nodded:

“Yep! Gonna go see my woman soon…” he answered. Eyes widening seemed appropriate for Mike at that very moment.

“Yo, No shit!” Mike cried out with excitement, finally stepping on the gas, “The chick from UCLA*? You…you still with her?” He inquired.

“Yeah, Homie! ”

“Dawg!…” laughing with sheer amazement, Mike looked at Jim, “I’m impressed…really” he added, proceeding to chuckle, “Look ‘atchu…my boi Jim....going steady with the fine ass college chick…”

“Whoo!” With his soul finally returning to his body,  Jim howled, “Finer than fine, dawg!”

“Hell yeah!”

Given the state of hyped energy that erupted in the car between the two young men, it would be nearly impossible to guess how sombre it was just before. “So…so…” Mike continued, holding on to the wheel as they kept driving, “… where you gon’meet?”

“Well…actually…” Jim looked at him, licking his lips, “….it’s a surprise” he added with a playful smirk. To which Mike could not help but laugh, “What?” Mike paused, “You didn’t tell her you’re back for good?”

Seeing his friend shake his head like a naughty schoolboy forced him to laugh harder, “Ohohoho!! this is gon be one hell of a reunion, dawg” He added with sheer enthusiasm, “But seriously though, she’s a real good one too, bro…” Mike opinionated, as soon as his laughter died down, “ I mean, even Syl liked her”

“Shit! For real?”

“Yeah yeah yeah…” Mike answered immediately,  “And you know Syl, she ain’t easy to please”

Gulping down the remnants of the bottle, Jim exhaled and stared out through the window, “Shit man!” He exclaimed, “I’m really gonna see her again, huh?”

With his tone growing deeper, his eyes began to burn with a flame that could only be categorized as lustful. Sensing the vibe that did not seem so new, Mike chuckled:

“Oh yeah! My homie’s gonna get it tonight! Salud*”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The buzz, the chatter of young adults was consistent in the hallway outside. It served as background noise when the door of the toilet cubicle burst wide open, spitting a rather young woman out of it with haste. Only then did the mirror managed to identify her: You.

With your hand clutching on to a bra, you let out a relieved sigh. For within a few seconds, your body experienced a new form of liberation. And you managed to savor it on your own in a public ladies washroom. Wearing a soft smile that was easily reflected in the mirror, you stuffed the piece of lingerie into your shoulder handbag.

“Seriously?”

You jumped with a yelp. Being so wrapped around in your own thoughts, you did not even notice Yara, your friend standing there. With her arms folded and eyebrows raised, it was clear that her face was rife with judgement.

“What?” You inquired breathlessly, “Auntie Flo* is about to visit…and the twins were just swelling to …get some parole time” you added with a playful smirk, pointing at your chest with no shame. The curves of your now-freed bosom seemed more visible through your cardigan top, “And fuck! it feels so good” you exclaimed, as you washed your hands. Yara however, scoffed with amusement:

“So you’re saying you were squirming in your seat the whole time to let the puppies out?”

“What? I had to pee too!”

“Well, You could have just left right then!” She insisted with a seeming annoyance, as you grabbed a tissue.

“…and miss Mr. Linney’s Final Notes? Uh uh! No way, bitch!” You waved your index finger with disapproval as you both exited. Students had flooded the hallway by then. Evening lectures at UCLA finally had drawn to a close, and Friday night was about to make its entrance. Youth in all shapes and colors, gathered in bunches all over the campus area, even beside the beautifully lit Royce Hall. Suffice to say, all were relieved to have some time off in the weekend.

“So…you coming, right?”

You looked at Yara upon her casual inquiry with confusion, “For what?”. Scoffing again, this time in disbelief, Yara's eyes widened looking at you: “Dinner?…tonight?”

She stressed, taking a step out of the campus building, “Last week you promised you’ll join me and Chase” with her arms folded and foot tapping on the ground in pure restlessness, she was a clear visual of a loanshark. However, that impatience left her system the moment her eyes fell behind you,“…and speaking of Chase…Baby!”

With her face lit up, her tone grew affectionate as Chase, her boyfriend rushed over to her.

“ ‘sup babe!” The tall, young blonde greeted, pulling his ebony goddess of a girlfriend for a passionate kiss.

Folding your arms, you could not help but avert your eyes. All the while you drew circles with your foot on the ground. Chase and Yara’s relationship certainly was a refreshing one to glimpse upon in the campus premises. You approved of it with sincerity, even when you looked away in awkwardness. It was not on spite. Truthfully, PDA was nothing you disapproved of. You were certainly not envious of the joy they possessed as their lips played with one another, quite similarly to a steamy MTV music video. You merely looked away, for any display of affection was a sheer reminder of him.

It had been months since you last saw him, possibly 6. And constant communication was not exactly convenient for him. Not in his situation. Was he alive and happy? The sheer reminder of gunshots and helicopter whirring forced your heart to race, which was nothing short of new. Granted, you had learnt to ‘compartmentalize’, a term you recently came to knowledge in your psych minor class. Yet, you were young and only human to have those concerns return to haunt you even for a few seconds. The sound of Yara and Chase’s lips smacking urged you to look up. Finally, you thought.

“So?” Yara inquired, casually wiping the smudged lipstick off her face, “You coming?”

Carefree, yet extremely inconsiderate, that was what she exuded. A knot of anxiety formed in your stomach. For oddly enough, the sight of the happy couple managed to drain your energy out tonight. You longed to run away.

“Honestly…” you began with a sigh, “I don’t really feel so good tonigh-”

“¿Qué pasa, guapa?”

   What’s up, gorgeous?  

That voice. That deep, spine tingling tone was a reminder of your mere existence. The tone that tempted every hair in your body to stand at attention. Turning around in a flash, you covered your mouth, shocked to find the person you prayed to see all this time.

“JIM??” You cried out in a muffled tone, “Oh my GOD!!-”

Squealing in pure joy, you sprinted towards Jim Davis before jumping into his arms. Seemingly extremely pleased, Jim let out a hearty laughter. Suddenly the energy you were drained had returned in the form of a shot of adrenaline when he picked you up and spun you around, kissing you without hesitation. And you swore the feel of his lips on yours added a couple of years into your life.

“Wait, you didn’t tell me you were coming back so soon” Breathless, you pointed out when he finally put you down.

“Well, I’m back for good, baby” Jim replied, extending his arms outward with pride. Your eyes widened: “What? You serious?”

“Yep…” he grinned nodding, “Honorably discharged…and all yours”

You sensed his tone morph into a low purr the moment he pulled you close to him. And you would be lying if that did not fill your stomach with butterflies. After ages.

“Umm….”

Yara’s voice emerged. You and Jim turned back, to find her and Chase appearing the most confused, “…you mind telling us who this is…?” She inquired with raised eyebrows.

Finally in realization, you chuckled. For introductions were in order.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The aromatic scent crept into your nostrils, only to soon disappear out of the lack of attention provided. All the while an uptempo Latin Pop track playing in the background mingled with Yara and Chase’ voices, but unfortunately faded away into mere mumbles. For none of that seemed to be the key focus for you tonight. Not when Jim Davis was around.

Even seated at a crowded Mexican Restaurant, he mattered the most to you. Even when platefuls of delectable Taquitos* were served to the table, your eyes did not leave his irresistible side profile. And when his sense of expertise noticed and his eyes caught your gaze, you were breathless. You wondered if it was the romantic in you surfacing, for all seemed to appear in slow motion. His eyes remained seductive, washing all over you that it was certain your panties might melt and diminish into thin air. Those eyes were truly sorcerous, that your eyes suddenly had lives of their own to the point you could sense their figurative cheeks heat up with heavy blushes. For his eyes, they were proficient in the dirty talk as much as his mouth was. Breathing in his cheap cologne with depth, you suddenly grew aware of his touch, and the fact he had his arm wrapped around your shoulder all this time. Being lost in his eyes was definitely an out-of-body experience.

“Hey!”

Your soul reunited with your frame upon Yara’s call.

“Mmm?” Looking over at the couple sitting across the table, you and Jim were unfazed.

“Aren’t you two gonna eat?” Yara inquired with raised eyebrows while Chase had began to gobble. Her gaze questioned both your sanity. To which you and Jim could not help but chuckle in response. Shaking her head, Yara scoffed:

“It’s so weird…” she began, “…seeing you like this”. Wiping the crumbs off his mouth, Chase joined in with confidence, “Yeah! How did you guys even meet anyways? I mean, no offense but…we never thought she’d be the one…” he stressed, pointing at you, “… to have an older boyfriend who’s a Marine-”

“-Army Ranger” Jim corrected. His gaze and tone was dominant, enough for Chase to wither with intimidation.

“Yeah…” Chase nodded with a gulp, “…what you said…”. You would be lying if you admit you did not enjoy that sight.

“Actually…” you finally began, “We met a year ago” turning to face your boyfriend, “ He was back in LA during his break. We met at a bar”

“Hold up! ” Raising her hand, Yara was wide eyed, “How come I didn’t know about this?”

“Cause this happened a year ago, hun. Calm down” you chuckled, “Actually, this was even before Cin transferred. Hah! you didn’t miss much…Don’t worry” you assured upon seeing Yara’s pout, “It was a small bar, but I loved the Pistos*-I mean…” you paused with a smile, “….the beer there…” Your pause caused Jim to chuckle alongside once again. Safe to say it was a chuckle that encompassed a shared memory. A sweet reminder of your first ever meeting.

“And?…that’s it?” Chase inquired with amusement, with both hands resting on the wooden table, “You both meet at a bar one night and…” he whistled, “…then sparks flew?”

Looking at them both, you could sense the suspicion in their eyes. You longed to answer, however it was not so easy to do so. Pausing, you struggled with a response.

“Absolutely!”

Jim answered for you with nonchalance, while his grip on you tightened. For a split second you both exchanged a gaze of reassurance. And you had never been more relieved. The secret was safe.

“So…”, Turning towards the couple, Jim began, “How did you lovebirds meet then?”

Hesitation was certainly not in Yara’s vocabulary when she offered to speak. Leaving her sight, your eyes darted towards the the chilled beer that Jim placed on the table. You smiled to yourself. They were certainly filled with memories.

Reminiscing your first meeting with Jim Davis, never failed to be exciting every single time. Before Yara ended up in your life, there was Cindy. Noticing your evident sadness due to her surprise transfer to USC*, Cindy was hell bent in comforting you, thus suggesting you join her and her boyfriend Ray for a night out in South Central. You agreed, being desperate enough to spend the final few days with your roommate. Situated at the suburbs, this bar was small, intimate and seemingly inhabited by those who knew Ray, which resulted in a welcoming atmosphere upon arrival. Though the place was mostly filled with gangsters, you did not care for the slightest, when especially you found yourself falling for the unexpected; The beer.

Chilled to perfection, the beer there was unlike any that you had tasted before. And it was certainly a surprise, given they were the usual brands. You could not fathom the refreshing sensation that trickled down your throat with the first sip. That sensation tempted your hips to sway, urged your feet to move in rhythm. All in syncopation with the music that played in the jukebox under the dim lights. Until finally bumping into a man woke you from your intoxication. A man you were fascinated with in an instant:

Jim Luther Davis.

Such a pity that Yara’s gusto-filled story barely reached your ears. For reliving a memory simply seemed sweeter for you. Thus, you continued to do so.

Fortunately, Jim Davis did not end up being a handsome stranger that you simply bumped into, for coincidence had other plans. Especially, when he and Mike Alonzo turned out to be Ray’s mutual older drinking buddies. You were ecstatic. Internally, of course.

With the entire group packed together in the booth table, it was one loud but engaging hangout. Except for you. Somehow you preferred to sit right next to Cindy in silence, being distracted by two things: Beer, and Jim.

Blame the chemicals embedded in your system, for you simply found yourself drawn to him. Truthfully, it did not seem so difficult to begin with. Not when he turned out to be your type in appearance. You found yourself watching him. The manner in which he listened to others with swagger and confidence, the manner in which he held himself ; They all brought a certain air to him. Your attention had pierced through all manner of secrecy that he would occasionally end up catching your gaze. And then you would look away, quick and embarrassed. Though you must admit, it was a game you thoroughly enjoyed playing. But at the same time, you felt idiotic and childish.

“Cat got yo tongue, baby?”

You blinked, looking up. Fabio, one of Ray’s friends threw the query over to your direction, all of the sudden. And with that, the table grew quiet. All the eyes landed on you, except for Jim’s. A surge of embarrassment rushed towards you when awkward silence filled the booth. For you were definitely distracted to the point you did not follow the conversation. With you struggling to form an answer, Fabio snickered:

“Yo Cindy, What’s up with yo friend? She deaf or somethin’?”

“Easy, homie”

Before Cindy could respond, Jim’s quick reply arose. And you swore your eyes caught the sight of his hand ball into a fist as his eyes had grown dark. Oddly enough, that was the comfort you needed right then.

“Don’t mind me, Fabio…” you shrugged with confidence, “I’m just a girl hooked on her Pistos” you said, enunciating the Spanish word before taking another sip. You may have smiled at him, but you knew how much you feigned it. Awkward silence remained intact. But Ray managed to save the night, by changing the topic of conversation. Slightly embarrassed, Fabio shot you a look. All before he leaned towards his friends, muttering some words in Spanish.

“You speak Spanish?”

Jim’s low query made you turn to him.

“N-No…” you answered with nervousness.

“Well…” he began, “…you should” Though his tone was of seriousness, he did not fail to flash you a soft smile that comforted you even further.

Thus, the evening progressed. And you began to notice Jim in much detail. The more you did, you discovered a warmth that seemed to trickle down your heart. For you realized, you would not be able to stop yourself from falling for him. Hard.

You smiled to yourself, relieved Yara still did not know you were drifting away in your head, stuck in a memory.

Unable to stop obsessing over him since that first night, you remembered how you found yourself returning to the same bar the following night, alone.

Stepping into the venue, you suddenly were aware how unprepared you were. Even while placing an order at the bar counter, you remembered covering your mouth with embarrassment. Was this a mistake?

“Hey Baby! ”

Jumping in your barstool, you sighed with annoyance when you realized it was Fabio sneaking up on you.

“Just…” you feigned a chuckle, “Don’t call me baby, okay?”. Evidently ignorant, Fabio seemed to have chosen to stay. To your dismay. Sporting gold chains on his neck and wrists, Fabio was on a dire attempt to emulate a thriving gangster, when he actually was just another college kid like Ray.

“So, whatcha doing all by yourself, baby? Don’t tell me…you’re here to see yo boi Fabio?”

Keep telling yourself that, you thought. Exhaling in frustration, you maintained a tight smile, “I uh…just waiting for someone” you struggled. Flashing a mischievous smile, Fabio leaned in closer. You prayed he would not notice how your nose scrunched up by his heavy cologne with disgust. And how your body tightened when his eyes scanned you from top to bottom, licking his lips by the sight of your choker and your red, floral short dress.

“Who are we kidding?” He sniggered, “You wanna piece of this, huh? Come o-” “No!” You cut him off, “I’m really…” feigning a chuckle once again, “…waiting for someone…Thanks” you said, extending your hands in defense. Given the reaction of those around you, it may have been a louder response than expected. For Fabio turned red, making it his queue to slither away. You sighed deep. Luck did not seem to get on with you from the moment you stepped in here. Was this a mistake? When you felt a finger tap you on your shoulder, you rolled your eyes and turned around. For you were ready to give Fabio a piece of your mind.

Except, it was not Fabio.

“Hey…”

Jim greeted you, his deep tone announcing his arrival. Standing at an appropriate distance, he stood tall with a hint of swagger. Your body began to finally relax by the sight, especially when your eyes were refreshed by the open plaid shirt worn along with his white vest and baggy pants.

“Hey…” breathless, you began, “Hey!” Confidence finally became you as you repeated with a smile. The bartender caught your attention the moment he placed a chilled bottle of beer on the counter before you.

“Make it two, Hermano* ” Jim said, handing the man some cash. All the sudden, guilt washed over you as you gasped: “Oh I-”

“I got this…” Jim assured, seeing you reach into your bag. Grateful, you nodded, “So…” he began, “Can seem to get enough of them Pistos, hmm?” An inquiry left his lips the moment he received his own bottle. Smiling shyly, you bit the side of your lower lip. The manner in which that word rolled out his tongue caused excitement. Besides, his mouth suddenly seemed more delectable. Oh, his mouth.

“Yeah…” you admitted, “Can’t get enough…and I hope I never will”

You added, gazing directly into his hazel orbs. It simply was a mistake to do so, given how those eyes burnt with curiousity, urging you to blush in return, “And er…” pausing, you looked down, “ I was kinda hoping I’d catch you around” you said, looking up again.

“Yeah?” Jim inquired, genuinely surprised, “Why?”

That was when you froze. He was right, what exactly was your intention of seeing him tonight? Unfathomable on how you gathered courage to blurt that silly line in the first place. What if you dragged yourself all the way here to be rejected? What if there never was a form of enthusiasm from his corner as you hoped? What if this ends up being the story of a silly sophomore college girl, having delusions over an older man?

You chuckled with a nervous tone, “Well I-…” you paused, as your pulse began to grow loud within you, “Sorry…” you muttered, sliding off the stool, “This was just a stupid idea. I should go-”

“Wait!”

You turned upon Jim’s call. Showing his bottle, he shrugged:

“These Pistos aren’t gonna get finished themselves, hmm?” He dared to pose that inquiry with a playful grin. Smiling back involuntarily, you knew you had no comeback for that.

You remembered the chill outside the bar that night. The breeze that caressed your exposed skin of your legs were still fresh in your memory. Gazing at whatever stars your eyes could make out amidst the city lights, you and Jim sipped on the chilled alcohol from the porch. Given the fact there were little to none outside, the evening was unexpectedly intimate.

“Your uh…” clearing your throat, you finally broke the surprisingly comfortable silence, “Your friend not with you tonight?”

“Mike?” Jim inquired, to which you nodded, “Nah! he’s got his hands full” he answered with a smile.

“You guys close?”

“Hell yeah…He’s my homeboy, ya know? Since we were kids”

“Sweet. Must be nice.” You smiled in return, looking back at the sky, “I uh…remember that you serve. Iraq, huh?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Fallujah* ” Jim answered with a nod, looking at you.

“Whoa…” you breathed in wonder. Silence took over once again while your tongue  savored the beverage.

“And you?…UCLA?” Jim spoke before wiping his mouth, “Man! That’s some fancy ass shit right there”

“Yeah well… it ain’t a walk in the park…” you contradicted in a shy tone, forcing him to shoot you a look of concern. To which you chuckled, “I’m on scholarship, I mean…” you added, helping him come to realization, “Hehe yeah…I had to nerd my way into that gig” moving side to side, you could not help but take another sip,“But, I know…what a good thing I got going on. And I know… if I screw it up, then I’m FUCKED” you enunciated the end, which drove him to laughter. You adored how it soothed you somehow.

“Well…” he began, “…whatever fucking takes, right?”

You nodded, “Hell yeah…Here’s to…uh…positive shit! Hah!” You laughed as you both clinked the bottles together. The more alcohol that chose to settle in your system, the bolder you became:

“What’s it like?”

“What?”

You fully turned to him, “Being out there…in Iraq…” you continued, “I mean…I’m guessing you’ve seen some shit…” you inhaled, “you know…shit you can’t forget, right? I mean, shit like that…” you scoffed, “….that shit can fuck…you…up…” at that moment you could not help but find yourself lost in thought.

But Jim’s surprised expression made you pause. You chuckled in embarrassment.

“I’m just…guessing…” you muttered, sipping once again. Perhaps you went a tad bit too far with the blabbering. For your cheeks began to heat up with worry. Until Jim spoke:

“Well…Shit or no shit…Follow orders, that’s what we do” Instead of a frown, Jim replied, taking a huge gulp from his bottle.

“Yeah…I get it” you nodded in a fast pace. Robust, and straightforward, his attitude was to be admired. Funny you found yourself staring at his side profile long enough, his face could easily be compared to that of a statue. Perfect in proportion, your mouth began to dry out. You were attracted to him, shamelessly so.

“I-”, You paused, suppressing a grin, “…never mind”

“What? What is it?” He asked, looking at you. To which you shook your head frantically.

“Nah, it’s really silly…”

“Come on!…tell me” Fully turning, Jim insisted with a smile. His voice had its way of being persuasive. And his voice had its way of tearing your defenses down, or so it seemed. Taking a deep breath, you began:

“I kept thinking about this but…” you paused, “Last night, you said I should learn some Spanish… Why?”

Desperate for more interaction, that was your excuse. Jim responded with a shy chuckle. Certainly was worth it.

“I mean, we just met and you barely knew me…” you continued with a smile, “So…why?” As your question grew more confident, your inner desperation grew strong. Taking his last sip from the bottle, Jim surprised you by taking a step towards you:

“You really wanna know the truth?”

“Try me” , You replied, quickly finishing your own bottle, all without breaking away from his gaze.

And thank goodness you finished it. For you would have surely dropped it. Especially when Jim stood dangerously close to you, causing you to be immediately aware of the muscles between your thighs contracting. Even more so, when his irresistible eyes traveled from your very own all the way to your alcohol stained lips.

“Cause…” he purred, “…you have no fucking clue how sexy you sound”

You both may have chuckled to his line, but that did not mean your pulse did not quicken. Which increased in speed the moment his eyes took hold on yours once again. Seduction, he certainly was proficient in it. And you, were a witness. A witness who suffered from internal combustion of frustration.

You inhaled deep, “Really?” “Yeah…” he breathed in a sultry manner.

Just when you thought no force on earth could break this eye contact, the door burst open. Some men exited. Breaking away, you looked at your watch watch in an instant. You sighed. Real Life was calling you.

“I…I gotta go…” downcast, you muttered with guilt, “Class tomorrow…” adding extra guilt, you knew that excuse certainly did not put you in a good light.

“Lemme drop you then…”

Jim’s nonchalant and nonjudgmental reply urged you to look up with relief. Smiling in agreement, you watched him enter the bar with the empty bottles. And in that very moment, a tingling sensation filled with thrill washed over you, leaving no inch unattended. Butterflies returned to your stomach, fluttering harder than ever before in your life. Were you being hopeful? Could Jim Davis be desiring the same? Goosebumps traveled through you when that tingling sensation returned with much detail. Too much detail to be specific.

Until you realized it was real. And Jim’s hand was directly at fault here.

Blinking back to the present reality, your eyes caught the sight of Jim’s chilled fingers on your leg. They ran over over your inner exposed thigh in circular motion, thus, inciting the tingling sensation. Of course, no wonder the detail was accurate.

Yara and Chase were oblivious to all this, for they were caught up in their own love story as she kept yapping. But that was only the fact Jim kept on such a convincing focused face. He may be ‘listening’ to your friend, but his hand was evidently not. The longer his fingers lingered on your skin, the more you were reminded of him. And the more you began to tingle and sweat in the most unexpected places.

You were young, and unapologetically shameless. 6 months. It was exactly 6 whole months since you were last physically intimate with your boyfriend. And with studies piling up along with the expectation of a scholarship holding sophomore, ‘getting yourself off’ was never an option. Not with a roommate around.

The tingling sensation grew even stronger. And you began to hear your own quickening breath. Jim Davis’ elongated fingers, they spoke of pride. You longed for them to travel to locations far more adventurous and private than your thighs. Especially when they were rife with experience. Truthfully, it was a fact that his hands and his delicious lips and tongue were fluent in your body than your own self. Being pleasure deprived for too long, the mere thought of him ravishing you, aroused you even more. Aroused, and certainly very starved. The kind that food simply could not satisfy.

“...and under the stars…” Yara continued, holding on to Chase with lovestruck eyes, “…he told me he loved m-”

“Excuse me!”

Cutting her off, you cried out as you stood up in an instant.

“What’s up with you?” Chase inquired, whilst Yara looked offended.

“Just I gotta…pee…” you lied, eyes landing on Jim, “…now”

“Okay…” you heard Chase mutter in kind as you left the table, “…TMI, but whatever”

In all fairness, being judged was the least of your concerns. With every speedy step you took, the faster your heart began to beat. Storming into the empty ladies room, you found yourself staring at a mirror once again, with a heaving chest and noticeably flushed cheeks. It was plain to see, you were engulfed in the flames of pure arousal, and the fire needed to be put out.

And when the bathroom door opened up once again, you turned to find the fireman enter. Wearing a serious expression, it was slightly difficult to decipher his thoughts.

“I…” you struggled as Jim strode towards you, “I didn’t know what else to do-” Except he knew. When he attacked you with a passionate kiss.

Jumping into him was reflexive. Wrapping your legs around his waist seemed almost choreographed. Finally resting on the washroom sink, it was quite safe to admit how both of you were very much relieved to be the only occupants in the room. For there was no intention of holding back. Your denim skirt hiked high up, revealing your thighs in completion under the white fluorescent lights as Jim stood between your legs. And they were much cared for, as his hands gingerly rubbed them back and forth while his lips indulged yours with hunger.

“You think they know I lied?”

Breathless, you inquired with innocence. Except you did not receive an instant reply. Not when you found yourself gasping when he pulled your head back by your hair with a growl. With liberated access to your bare neck, Jim celebrated by placing equally starving kisses all over, resulting in your surprising moans.

“You think I fuckin’ care?” He chuckled into your skin, to which you could not help but chuckle back:

“Oh no, you bad boy” you purred in tease.

“Oh yeah, baby girl …” purring back, his reply incited a giggle out of you before he kissed you once again.

“Ay Papi*!” You breathed into his lips before he snatched up yours for good. Surroundings were simply irrelevant the moment the kiss turned intense, as his tongue crashed in like the rude boy he was, and grabbed onto your own tongue in a passionate embrace. They clashed against one another in frenzy, him claiming you as his. As the kiss grew deeper, your moans grew louder. When he pulled away all the sudden, whimpers left your lips with desperation. Teasing you so, Jim took a good look at you:

“¿Como esta tu Español?” He breathed low. And you were pleased that you actually understood.

   How’s your Spanish?  

Pressing himself against you, he began to slowly grind. You grew excited. Listening to Jim Davis speak Spanish was simply erotic in the first place. And since you have been studying it on your own for past few months, you were certainly impatient to show him.

“Yo…” you began, finding the words “…estudio pala-sorry…” with a nervous chuckle, you looked down, “..I know I suck-”

“No no…keep going” Jim insisted with a smile, bringing your chin up for a reassuring kiss, “Now say it again…” he added, maintaining eye contact with ferocity. Taking a deep breath, all the words clearly appeared in your head. Thus, you flashed a mischievous grin:

“…estudiando palabras…muy importantes”

   I am studying…very important words.  

Gasping was all you could do when Jim picked you up, carrying you into the nearest toilet booth. Thankfully with this restaurant being surprisingly hygienic, you did not mind. Life barely was embedded in your legs the moment he put you down, locking the door behind you to push you against it.

“Oh yeah?” He inquired, panting, “¿Cómo cuál?”

   Like what?  

Panting alongside him, you stood up straight, “Por ejemplo…”

   For example…  

Amidst his pants and his impressed expression, you grabbed his hands, placing them over your buttocks. All the while you looked at him with eyes, heavy with lust:

“¡Haz lo que quieras!”

You could not believe how confident you sounded. Smiling with equal lust in his eyes, Jim kissed you in approval, definitely pleased with what he just heard:

   (Do) whatever you want!  

Growling with effect, his animalistic nature was exuded as his hands gripped onto your buttocks with passion. His big, generous hands felt through every cheek with familiarity, as if they just reunited with a long lost friend. But that did not mean he forgot about all the other friends, the rest of your frame that had missed him as well. Moaning with pleasure, you began to unbutton his white shirt during in haste.

You simply adored his hands, for they were as passionate as his Spanish was. As he proceeded to hold on to your hips, your own hands roamed over his torso over his white vest. Except you froze the second his hands landed on your chest. Shaky breaths exited your lips as you shivered by his touch, for your breasts were at its most sensitivity even through your thin cardigan top. Palming them generously, Jim groaned into your lips:

“Fuck! I missed you, Guapa”

“I missed you more, Papi”

Confessing in return, you kissed him once more. Moans of desperation mixed into your kisses the moment his hands dipped inside your cardigan crop top, only to make direct contact with your untethered bosom. You winced involuntarily, even from his touch so gentle. Jim chuckled with seeming victory. And you were not afraid to admit, how you were simply in the palm of his hand.

Usually, during the peak pre-menstruation, you dared not let anyone come close to you, let alone touch you. But when it was Jim Davis, those rules halt by the door. He was a man who could maneuver his touch. However, he certainly was no good boy. Proceeding with his sweet torture during kisses, you were relieved to have a door to keep you balanced. For his long fingers, they flicked, encircled and pulled your now-sensitive nipples, keeping them fully erect and thoroughly visible even through the clothes.

Gripping his vest even tighter, you pressed your thighs together, for intense levels of pleasure and sensitivity crashed within you, akin to an avalanche. In truth, it simply was an overdose, and you could not handle. You were a mere animal trapped in this cage of frustration. But like an animal, you managed to set yourself free. You pushed Jim back with such force, that he ended up sitting on the closed toilet seat behind him. A surprised expression adorned his face when you straddled him in the process. Peeling your cardigan off your torso, you hinted your need for him. Which immediately was motivation for him to unbuckle his pants. However, his eyes did not fail to leave your sight while he did. For his eyes revealed nothing but pure amazement and hunger. He inhaled deep:

“Fuck!” He uttered, while his hand dipped into his hardened manhood.

“Yeah, that’s right Papi…” you breathed, maintaining the ironclad gaze. All the while you permitted his hand to feel the intense dampness of your opening, “Fuck me!”

And thus, public decency went flying out the window the moment the lovers fully united. The manner in which his hands rested on your bare back; whilst you moved upwards and downwards in syncopation to his thrusts, it drove you wild. The manner in which his generous and erect shaft felt so familiar inside of your tight walls, was too intoxicating as always. His mutual desperation and hunger translated well, as his lips savored on your swollen and sensitive bosom as if they were treasured food rations. Tingles were divided into million branches, impacting every form of stimuli in your system. But even in the midst of these endless waves of pleasure, that certain question from Chase yet lingered in your mind:

  “And?…that’s it? You both meet at a bar one night and…then sparks flew?” “Absolutely!”  

For in truth, it was not just a night of drinking and playful flirting that caused this relationship to blossom. And just like that, You could not help but recall further.

And peek into the moment that remained stored in the deepest corner of your mind. In the form of a secret.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

With arms folded, you kept on waiting. Long enough for the chill outside to grow stronger. Long enough for you to begin pacing nervously. Even long enough for several men to exit the bar during. Given its cabin exterior, it became more and more evident that this was more of an old fashioned bar. You sighed. Jim was certainly taking a little bit too long inside.

Paranoia knocked on your heart’s door, forcing you to welcome it inside with reluctance. Thus, several questions began to occupy your thinking space. Was there trouble inside? A possible Bar Fight? You shook your head, for you were surely being delusional. Or worse, was this a part of his plan all along? The player type to ditch you for someone else? Perhaps with someone better looking that he just met. Envy formed in your heart towards a woman that possibly may not even exist. Your stomach turned in a merciless fashion. When the door opened again, a surge of hope grew in you. Could it finally be Jim?

Except it was not.

“Baby! You still around huh?”

Fabio said, in a pleased tone, exiting the bar. Clicking your tongue in an involuntary fashion, you turned away with frustration. For he was the last person you hoped to lay eyes upon.

“Hey-Wha-What’s the matter?” Fabio cried, “Can’t look at a friend?” Whilst he tapped you on the shoulder repeatedly. Alcohol was strong in his presence. And the fact he stood uncomfortably close certainly turned your stomach even more.

“Well, technically you’re not my friend” With a forced smile, you turned to him, “You’re Ray’s friend, OKAY? ” a snappy tone exited your lips. And for a split second, there was genuine offense painted in Fabio’s face.

“Just tryna be nice, jeez!” He muttered low, with arms lifted. Coming one’s senses, you finally drew in deep breath while letting your arms loose.

“I…I’m sorry, dude”  you said, in a soft tone, staring the droopy eyed young man. Being Cindy’s friend, your last intention was to cause friction Ray and his friends. Your tone seemed to have been convincing enough, for Fabio flashed a soft smile in return:

“It’s okay…” he replied, to which you were relieved.

But that relief was short lived. Especially when Fabio leaned forward with puckered up lips in an instant, forcing you to gasp.

“What the hell, man?” You inquired, pushing him back with aggression.

“Ah come on, baby…” he drawled, chuckling in a playful manner, “Just one kiss…I mean, look at you! You still waiting out here. For who? I know… you really came here for me” with open arms, he went in for an embrace. Scoffing, you pushed him back again. That was when your pulse quickened again. To the point you hoped to flee.

“That’s it! I’m leaving! ”

You snapped, darting away from the entrance. The concern of leaving Jim behind or finding a cab did not seem problematic anymore, for all you needed was to get away. However, a painful cry left your lips when you felt your hair being pulled back. Your eyes widened. It was an angry Fabio.

“Ugh! Why you being such a Puta* right now, huh?” He said through gritted teeth, pulling you closer “Oh wait I forgot…” he snickered, “….you don’t understand Spanish, right bitch?” turning you to him. The alcohol had certainly rendered him more maniacal than ever.

“Don’t’ be a jerk, Fabio…” You cried, as you began to swing desperate punches towards his direction. But your defenses were lowered and moot, the moment he grabbed you tight by the wrists. You gasped, “..let… me… go! HELP! ”.

However, despite your cries, no one came to your aid.

This feeling, certainly was the ‘stuff of nightmares’. This feeling, had haunted you every now and again in imagination. To have it form into reality, was worse. No matter the force you exerted to free yourself, it seemed moot. For Fabio had the upper hand with his strength. And you were overpowered with intimidation. With the heartbeat increased in record speed, your heart was on the verge of exploding with fear. For the first time, you feared for your life. You despised the fact there was no one around, the fact this bar was on the outskirts. Almost close to tears, You heavily despised the fact you may be getting hurt in more ways than one tonight.

Until you heard a bottle shatter. Loud.

Glass fragments dripped from Fabio’s head as he cried out with immense pain. His grip on you loosened before he dropped down to the ground. Only for you to find Jim Davis standing behind him, with with a bottle broken in hand, and sheer rage in his eyes.

Rolling over, Fabio caught the sight of the man, “Jim??” He groaned, “What the hell, man? Why you helping this bitch-ARGH!”

A kick in the stomach was Jim’s choice in response, which incited more cries from the fool.

“THE FUCK YOU TOUCH HER FOR, HUH?” Jim yelled, his loud voice piercing through the tension like high pressured flames. However, the question seemed rhetoric, when he continued to kick Fabio, aggression growing more and more evident, “FUCKING…ASS…HOLE!” With tightened fists, he enunciated with each kick, “MOTHERFUCKE-”

“JIM!!!!”

You cried in an instant. And that very moment was when he finally froze. That fateful moment, you watched his face change, for his expression was clear as day. As if a wave of realization washed over him. As if bitter reality surprised him with a sucker punch.

All the while he stared down at his finished product: Fabio. He watched the the young man groan for his dear life, laying defeated and thoroughly bruised; all the while a weak stream of blood appeared prominent from his head and his mouth, adding a splash of bright color to the dark and dusty pavement.

Which was transparent enough for you, the witness.

You regretted being frozen with shock. If it only was for you to control. Thankfully a shred of it reached when you finally mustered the strength to call for him out from a potential murder. Violence, Danger, your trembling heart sensed it all. All from Jim. For that was what his strong aura emitted. However, despite your shock, never did you flinch. Never did your heart consider retracting from him or running away.

On the contrary, you were compelled to trust him even further. Especially when you sensed complete safety in him, above all others.

“Let’s go…”

You found yourself uttering those words, as you took his hand in urgency. Pulling him with haste, you both fled from the scene. Adrenaline coursing through the veins whilst running away, leaving a wounded man laying in his own mess before anyone could find out.

You remembered how Jim drove. Quiet, but focused. He drove and drove, until the bar disappeared from your sight. He drove to the point you both found yourselves ending up at a remote beach. And finally, time had returned to its normal pace once again.

Calming sounds of the ocean waves filled your ears, while the sight of the foamy waters barely were visible in the darkness. You watched Jim slowly take his hands from the wheel, rubbing his face. Your eyes widened, when you noticed his hand bleeding slightly. Perhaps from the broken bottle. You longed to speak, however no voice was present. Pushing the seat back, Jim slowly crawled over to the back of the car. Silence overpowered for too long, which urged you to clear your throat and speak:

“A…Are you ok-”

“You’re right, you know…”

You paused, upon hearing Jim’s interruption. Looking back from the front passenger seat, you found light finally shining on his face. Much to your sadness, cracks formed in your heart by the sight of his expression. Especially when silent tears streamed down his chiseled face. As if his mask of bravery was stripped away. Or even melted.

“You’re right…shit’s been crazy over there…” he chuckled with sadness, “…worse, shit’s crazy over here too…” he said, pointing at his own head.

Joining him in the backseat, you took the bandana off your head without hesitation.

“The thing’s I’ve seen…” he continued in mid-whisper, “The shit I had to do. The shit I wanted to do. It’s fucked up…so fucked up”.

It was unfathomable. Witnessing emotions of Jim Davis on variant scale in one single night, including him unveiling his vulnerability, you did not know where to begin processing. Simultaneously, those cracks in your heart, they could not help but form deeper to the point you ached inside. For a second, you were filled with an overwhelming desire for this misery in his heart to disappear. You longed for him to smile again. You froze. Were you tasting a slice of pure affection? Perhaps even, love? For him?

“It’s too fucked up…I’M fucked up-”

“Hey…hey…”

Your voice cracked when you finally began, leaning towards him, “Shhhh…It’s okay…” you said in comfort, while rubbing his forearm, “…its okay…I’m here” you said, as you occupied yourself with tending to his bleeding hand as a coping mechanism. The bleeding that he did not even notice.

With his hand on yours, the heart did feel heavier in comparison. As if his hand was magnetically powerful enough to keep you nearby. Thus, forming an attraction. Not the type that stirred the loins, but merely the kind that longed for you to wail on behalf of him. The kind to carry the pain for him. As if you did not wish to carry on another minute of your life, without knowing he would be well. And you would be lying if you did not want to show him that.

Your trembling hand reached out for his surprised face, turning it towards you with patience. The deep breath you took, it occupied your lungs in completion. Butterflies exploded in your stomach , causing a riot before you moved close. Close enough to feel his breath on your face. And close enough to press your lips on both his cheeks.

You tasted his salty tears, that stained his face. Pressing your own lips together, you hoped you could share his pain this way. Your eyes were smart, urging your voice to take a breather, whilst they gazed at his lips. Those lips that turned you greedy the moment you saw first laid eyes on them. And his trembling breaths of despair were enough for you to finally dispose of any form of hesitation.

For you finally moved to kiss him ever so gently on the lips.

With your kiss, you were there for him, in spite of it all. In spite of the violence and the tears. And the moment you instantly felt Jim kiss you back, you knew you were hopelessly his.

All the sudden, a dose of sweetness was infused with the salty kisses, weakening the flavor of the beer that lingered in his mouth. Selfishly, the need for comfort vanished. For all you needed was him. In every possible manner. Safe to say, Jim wholeheartedly agreed.

A sudden injection of passion entered your systems, setting your bodies in its entirety, in flames. Which also included the loins. Powerful enough for you to straddle him, powerful enough for Jim to flip you down to hover over you. And certainly powerful enough for the both of you to make love.

You treasured it all. The manner in which his fingers were precise, hooking on to your panties to gingerly peel them out of your frame. The manner in which his eyes gazed upon your own, then traveling all the way south to take in the sight of your now exposed opening, that dripped with wetness, blushing in its own means and begging him to explore it. Thus, it was to be expected, when you welcomed him inside you effortlessly. As if it had waited for him all your life.

Even for the first time, Jim was fast, and was rough. Yet surprisingly, you did not care. You knew where it originated. And it seemed most apt.

While he moved in body, he fled in heart. Away from the horrors, away from the pain. This resulted from his need for a distraction. Amidst the syncopated moans that filled the car, you cupped his face. Looking right into his hazel orbs, you witnessed his need. His need for a distraction. And at the peak of climax, you witnessed his desperation. His desperation, that urged you to never him go.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

         (Present)      

“I failed the test…”

Jim uttered low, capturing your attention. With your face buried in his neck, you heard it louder than ever. Tilting your head, you sat up straight to face him, confusion taking over. After reaching climax following a session of passionate and exciting love-making in a restaurant toilet booth, there you both were in recovery. Never did you expect him to break the silence with a statement such as this.

“What do you mean?” You inquired in a half whisper.

“The Psych test…” Jim elaborated, while you proceeded to put your cardigan top back on,  “…for the LAPD gig” sighing, he was downcast “I failed that shit…”

“No….” You breathed. The disappoint that was rife in his tone, somehow pierced through your heart. Thus, ushering in a wave of sadness that came crashing in, “Baby, I’m so sorry…” you said as you embraced him tight. To your surprise, Jim held you tightly in his arms in return. For when he buried his face on the crook of your neck and remained in silence for a mere few seconds, it was evident that was what he was required of. A rush of butteries attacked as you gently cupped his face.  You loved this man, and your heart was the witness.

“Fuck the cops if the they can’t relate” you said through gritted teeth, before kissing both his cheeks, “Fuck ‘em! Cause something better is comin’ ” you added with a soft smile, while your thumb ran over his upper lip, “We just gotta ...keep our heads straight”

To your relief, Jim seemed amused, “Speaking from experience?”

You smiled with pride, “You could say that…”

Both of you chuckled. “The point is…” you continued with a deep sigh, and huge smile, “I’m glad you’re back for good, baby”

Except for his own smile, it vanished right then. And in turn, his eyes watered and they shone, reflecting nothing but desperation and vulnerability. You took pride in being the one to witness it, just as you did that fateful night a few months back. Stroking your head with both hands, his forehead gently touched yours:

“¡Eres mia!” He breathed deep.

   You’re mine!  

How dare he? Expanding with immense warmth and impatience, it did not take long for your heart to gain rapid pace, as it was your very first time.

“¡Si, para siempre!”  You answered with confidence. For it was simply the truth.

   Yes, Forever! 

——————————————————

Index

UCLA : The University of California, Los Angeles Salud: Spanish term for “Cheers!” Guapa: Spanish term for Beautiful, Gorgeous Taquitos: A Mexican Food Dish Pisto: Mexican slang. A general term for an alcoholic beverage (usually beer) USC: University of Southern California Fallujah: A city in Iraq Papi: Spanish Term for Daddy Puta: Derogatory Spanish term for bitch, whore

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[wovenstarlight]

YWBK update: chapter 25 + liner notes

yesterday will be kinder has updated! you can read chapter 25 here, or start from the beginning here

okay, on to notes and commentary! first time i’m doing these, let’s hope this works out. commentary under the cut to save people’s dashes

Hamin laughs. “Given how bad you are at not being suspicious, that’s understandable.” “Oh, come on, I’m not that bad.” Hamin screws up his whole face in a squint. “Okay, so maybe I’m a little bad.”

this part was really funny to me when i wrote it because i was like “hmm reasons for DHM to understand why HHJ wouldn’t work in the guild” and then i was like Wait. Their Whole First Meeting, Dude. DHM was lowkey convinced for the longest time that HHJ was like, on the run from the KR version of the mafia, and got plastic surgery to look like his little brothers, and is possibly in some sort of witness protection program??? or something??? how else does he not have cops on his ass this man is so suspicious all the time

“I don’t think… They said the dungeons were, like, different worlds? Did they find people there?”

mafia theory second place. dungeon theory first place

“Like, humans? Um. No, no humans.” “So then you can’t be from there. Okay.”

dungeon theory shot down. mafia theory back in the running

“Hey,” he says cautiously. “I’m— I’m gonna go get us some water, okay? Why don’t you… take a minute.” “Okay.” “The bathroom is over there, if you need it.” “Okay. Thank you.”

after four years working alongside a guy you start to notice when he’s feeling a little out of it and needs a bit of a break... but as JHW mentions later you also learn to be a little subtle about giving him one

jung heewon What’s with your typing? It reads like Jihye’s [HYJ]’s fine. Very energetic Too energetic? He’s going to burn out. How do I make him calm down

Epic Burnout Man makes a reappearance! when translating sclass one of the things that makes me want to shake HYJ most is his habit of constantly adding things to his to-do list while he already has 1 billion things on his plate. and all the time he’s whining about “UGH there’s SO MUCH WORK to do” No One Asked You To Do It

Anyway. the point is. HYJ isn’t about to be beat by HHJ at Developing Issues 😔

jung heewon I haven’t spoken to him directly about this because if he’s anything like you he’ll take it as an insult You wtf whts tht supposed 2 mean quit typing jung heewon Better not say shit, mr “No, I can’t take days off and cater to my interests or go out with friends or on a date, I’m too busy taking care of the kids and making sure their needs are met, no I don’t care that there are thousands of people out there balancing personal enjoyment and romance and work AND kids at the same time, are you suggesting I be a BAD GUARDIAN to MY KIDS?”

see above re: not being too direct with pointing out when HHJ’s having Issues because he doesn’t react well

You wht but our eyes r fine jung heewon Even if having glasses doesn’t run in the family, you should still get him checked, just in case

top 10 funny time travel moments: referring to you and your past self as “us” (our = my eyes are fine), but other people think you mean “our family” (our eyes are fine = no family history of long/shortsightedness)

Also. Sooyoung-ie says hi [Attachment: 20XX1213_144516.jpg] 

ok no lie this was one of the parts that pissed me off the most, even though it’s Literally One Line, because. i love chat exchanges. i really do. when done right they’re a lot of fun to read. But Do You Know How Long It Took Me To Figure Out A Calendar For The Events In This Fic. now everything’s TIMED i have to count HOW MANY DAYS IT’S BEEN since XY event so i can CORRECTLY NUMBER the FILE ATTACHMENTS!!! this sucks!!! it took me fucking forever to pin down a timeline just so i could write this chapter plus the few before and after it!!!!

anyway i gave up when i reached year. i just put 20XX. fuck it. we are running on fairy tail time now. (actually i think that’s XXnumber number? XX76? or was it X796. something like that. Who cares i stopped watching fairy tail forever ago)

Fuck it! Hamin will understand!! “If you Awaken you should come work with me,” Han Hyunjae says all in a rush. 

“HAMIN WILL UNDERSTAND” => he literally was cool with me giving zero context for half a dozen absolute balls to the wall nonsense bullshit things i’ve done before. he’ll be fine with this too. dog_in_burning_house_this_is_fine.png

“You already know about the guilds, those are going to be for dungeon Hunters, but I was thinking of forming something like an independent group of contractors. Awakened people with skills that aren’t useful for combat, but that might… that will be generally useful. It’d be you and me, and maybe one other guy I met recently. Probably more in the future.”

given that HHJ has no idea currently that peace exists (i’m so sorry baby i’ll find a way to shoehorn you in soon i miss you so much) he’s got no intentions to start a kiseungsu business yet! he mostly wants to live quietly while just acting as a manager for other Awakening-related services, like YMW’s forge and DHM’s tracking service, along with the information exchange/lowkey spy ring that he’s planning on setting up with JHW and the bar. since HYH is fine associating with him in this timeline, HHJ’s thinking he can get a foot in the door that way, then eventually spread out into dealings with most major guild leaders

RIP to this plan. you were well-made but you will not last long.

“Please, I can’t tell you how I know that, I really can’t, it’d put me and my brothers in danger if it got out. But—” “No need.” Hamin looks slightly alarmed, and Han Hyunjae feels himself settle at the obvious concern in his eyes.

MAFIA THEORY RAPIDLY RISING TO PROMINENCE??? THIS IS NOT HOW DO HAMIN WANTED HIS GUESS CONFIRMED

“I spoke to the Task Force Head and she said that there’s been discussion about hosting a meeting for the nearby high-rankers, where they’ll announce the guild proposal and see who else is interested in trying it out.”

“they’ll announce” i’m sorry king 💔 you deserved a nap

(OH ALSO FUN FACT choi eunyoung is a canon character, not an OC of mine! she appears in uhhh i think late 140s? 150s? something like that)

“I think there’s… probably only one other S-rank who’s Awakened right now?”

Hehehehehehehehehehehehehhehe

Hamin beams. “No, they’re doing great! Spookie’s taken really well to the new housing situation, but I think Spots might miss the store…”

shoutout to @daemonic-dawn​ for letting me borrow a pet name, love u king. i had a much longer ramble about pet names here but i finished typing and realized it was all entirely off topic so i removed it for convenience

Hyunjae makes an annoyed noise in the back of his throat. “Don’t— I mean.” He huffs, visibly taking a deep breath, and Yoojin frowns reflexively. [...] “Is everything alright?” Yoojin kind of wants to be annoyed at his tone on principle, but he forces his shoulders to relax, matching Hyunjae’s posture. Though he can’t stop himself from being a little short when he answers.

things the brothers have learned in four years living together: getting confrontational often leads to arguments that just fizzle out anyway, so it’s way fucking easier to consciously tone down their combativeness in advance when talking to each other about things they have problems with, instead of screaming their heads off and then having to calm yoohyun down afterwards to boot

“I guess. Whatever.” Yoojin slumps. “Can I…” “Hm?” Hyunjae blinks at Yoojin as he gestures to the spot on the bed beside him, then jolts. “Oh! Yeah, sure, c’mere.” He opens his arms, and Yoojin goes over and flumps on the bed, head in Hyunjae’s lap. Almost immediately, Hyunjae starts stroking fingers through his hair, and Yoojin relaxes into the touch, listening as Hyunjae continues speaking.

cuddles 🥺🥺🥺 sorry i don’t have any other commentary here just. cuddles. extremely and overwhelmingly comforting for a man who spent the better part of 8 years(?) with no major positive relationships, and a kid who spent 12 years of early life basically abandoned by his parents. you had best bet they gave up on not hugging each other 1 year into this whole mess

Yoojin hums in acknowledgement. It’s not like he’d ever let himself get hurt; he has too many responsibilities to his family and friends. If he wants to be good enough to keep up, he can’t afford to fuck up like that. But… hyung will worry if he keeps working so hard. He can slow down a little for him. 

Problems disorder man when will you stop. the way he sees “getting hurt” as an inconvenience and an obstacle to his duties rather than a danger to himself. the way he doesn’t really care if he himself gets hurt, but if it’ll worry his family, then it’s a no-no. it’s just. wow. i know i wrote this but i hate him

“Not really. I talk to Myeongwoo about it sometimes.” “Ah, right, Myeongwoo.”

haha gays

“Don’t be weird about him,” Yoojin warns[...]. “I won’t, promise.”

if the “i won’t” line had a dialogue tag it’d be “Han Hyunjae lied”

“Is Eunwoo still in his relationship?” “Mhm, happy as ever. Apparently they’re trying long-distance, now that Eunwoo’s gone off to university abroad.”

three guesses for who eunwoo’s dating and you won’t need the first two

Hyunjae raises his hands like he’s going to deny the accusations levelled against him, so Yoojin seizes him by the collar and shakes him until he cries for mercy

oh my o/rv ass struggled so bad with not writing “shakes him like a man betrayed” here. it killed me not to. but in the end i prevailed (against, uh, myself. don’t think about it too hard.)

“Jeez, okay, he’s an F-rank!” “Eh?! Then why—” “He’s also got an SS-rank potential skill,” Hyunjae admits[...].

play-by-play of this scene because god if i draw any scene in this fic it would be this one just for the sheer hysterical nature of HYJ’s reaction:

YOOJIN: I HATE YOU WHAT THE FUCK WHY. TELL ME HIS RANK

HYUNJAE: HE’S AN F

YOOJIN: WHAT? WHAT THE FUCK?

HYUNJAE: he’s also got an SS-rank skill,

YOOJIN:

[nellie-elizabeth]

First Line Meme Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line, then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

tagged by @lizardkingeliot. Thanks!!! <3

This is going to be fun!

1. The Production of Penny. SPOILERS for A Comet Pulled From Orbit.

For the first several weeks, it’s just impossible to meet her. Penny will feel bad about it later, but he can’t take in any new stimuli when his entire body, mind, soul is shivering in the exposed light, trying to adjust to a reality he’d given up on returning to. He holes himself up with his family in one of his favorite places, a small house in Alaska, of all places, that he’d only just acquired and made comfortable when he’d—when he’d gotten himself trapped somewhere else.

2. The Way a Fool Would Do

You never really know what you’re getting into, when you choose to take a soulmate. Before Quentin had bound himself to Eliot, he’d been forced to endure the normal barrage of questions from the Fillorian Soul Council, and then a separate barrage of questions from his cousin Julia, who had nitpicked his choice down to the marrow, pouring concern after concern into Quentin’s already terrified brain.

He’d been so frustrated with her at the time, but in retrospect he can’t blame her for her caution. The fact is, no matter how much you prepare, no matter how much you think you’ve thought it all through, binding another soul to your own is unlike anything else in the world. It is impossible to know how it will feel until it’s already too late to turn back.

3. The Genesis of Julia

She decides, while watching the 1984 Summer Olympics one lazy day, a magically cool glass of lemonade on the table beside her as she lounges back into their comfiest armchair, to master gymnastics. The decision is made more or less on a whim; this is how Julia decides how to spend a great deal of her infinite life minutes, truthfully. She’s organized and meticulous once she knows her goal, but when it comes to finding said goal, it’s all about what strikes her fancy.

4. The Construction of Kady

The dust took a couple of weeks to settle, after Kady’s abrupt departure from her old life and chaotic intrusion into her new one. She’d been in the middle of war with her own people when she’d died for the first time, and the others had found her desperately attempting to steal magic from a rival hedge group in order to survive, too anxious about her own life to properly mourn for her mother’s death, and certainly too caught up in her own frantic mind to trust any of these new people, much less believe them about their immortality, or her own.

5. The Origins of Alice

There was no way to prepare for something like this. There was simply nothing she could do, nothing she could write down, no refinements she could make, that would help her to be more ready for what the morning would bring.

Alice hated that very much, of course.

6. The Creation of Quentin

The object in question was beautifully rendered, detailed and precise. A burnished color, the cool weight of it reassuringly solid in Q’s hands as he examined it, turning it over and over in his hands. This one wasn’t even particularly old; it looked to be a sixteenth century model, and Q had seen older and more beautiful in his time.

7. The Making of Margo

When Margo first met Alice, she understood her immediately. That wasn’t to say that Alice was boring, or predictable, or that there was nothing Margo had to learn about her. It wasn’t that at all. It was more that in meeting Alice, Margo was able to take one look at her and think to herself: ah, now this I know what to do with.

8. The Explanation of Eliot

El was afraid of heights, but only a little.

He could fly, after all, and that should have made fear illogical. But if anything, his ability to subvert gravity was the very reason for his nerves: he’d never been able to trust himself with anything, much less his own life or the life of others. The few times his telekinetic powers had been called in as a means of escape or rescue, when he’d held an innocent stranger or beloved family member in his arms and floated with them down from the side of a mountain or building or cliff face… well, those were the things he had nightmares about, on the rare occasions when he could remember his dreams. It was that sensation of freefall, of knowing it was magic, something inexplicable, deep in his consciousness, in his soul, even, that was the only thing preventing sharp, painful, deadly impact. He knew himself well enough to know he should never be trusted with something so precious as the life of another.

9. A Comet Pulled From Orbit

Alice Quinn woke up.

This was an unexpected development, considering the events of mere moments ago. Specifically the agonizing thirty seconds she’d spent bleeding out on the carpet, wondering in an abstract sort of way how long it would be before someone thought to look for her and found her mangled corpse tucked into the corner of a Brakebills Library study room, surrounded by the shredded remains of several large magical tomes, and her carefully collated notes.

---

Pausing here for a moment after the first 9 - eight of them are all part of one series. The main story, A Comet Pulled From Orbit, is an Alice POV AU of The Old Guard. Prominent Queliot subplot, some burgeoning Kalice and other ships as well. Lots of found family, etc. The other stories, all the ones with the seven main characters' names in them, are meant to be a series of small snippets to fill out that universe, backwards and forwards. I'm noticing that I do a lot of setup, I don't often start in medias res with any of these, trying to set a tone and get the information started right away. Each of the chapters of the snippet stories could be their own thing, so it's a little weird to consider it the start of a bigger story!!

Okay, moving on to earlier stories.

10. is it too late (or could this love protect me)

This is a story about nothing and everything. It is a story between then and now. It is a story of people living their lives, living them, and living them, and continuing to live them, with only some pedestrian heartbreak and alcoholism and good old millennial economic angst to add some variety to the humdrum of continued existence.

This is a story about stupidity, and love. Stupid love.

(A/N - hmm I kinda hate this beginning now even though I'm SUPER proud of the story as a whole)

11. Maybe This Time

"Quentin Coldwater?" Eliot says, twisting the name up in his mouth like an insult.

Give him a break - it's a weird fucking name, for one thing. And besides, the off-putting demeanor is an intentional scare tactic.

12. Beyond the Veil

"Do you think the Lorians would want a seat at the table?" Fen asked doubtfully, looking over the charter in front of her.

"Well, they're going to want to review the language, at any rate," one of the advisers put in. "Especially the order of the names."

"But it's in alphabetical order!" Margo said. "Fillory comes before Loria - sorry, not sorry."

13. Running All This Time

Quentin was sweet. There were a lot of words that Eliot could think of to describe him, several of them a lot more besotted than he was comfortable with, but sweet was an apt descriptor, generally speaking.

He had the softest little smile, and wide brown eyes that crinkled up in the corners when he was happy. He had strong yet gentle hands, hands that were somehow mesmerizing as he flapped them around wildly during conversation, trying to paint pictures in the air to accompany his latest rant about whatever-the-fuck. His voice was calming, his circular logic compelling, enough so that Eliot found himself listening - really listening - whenever Quentin was talking to him, even if it was about the Plover books and what they suggested about this time period in Fillorian history, or the politics of trade when it came to buying labor from talking animals, or how he may have come up with a better tracking system to mark down the mosaic patterns they'd already tried. Dry, uninteresting stuff, really. Which is what Eliot told Quentin, with an eye-roll, to stop him from getting a big head.

14. To Feel the Same

Quentin finds Eliot sitting alone in the armory, surrounded by books.

Something tense and frantic inside of him unclenches, like it always does around this man. It’s actually a remarkable thing, because by all rights Eliot should make him more nervous, not less. Quentin is a nervous person, after all, and Eliot is so… Eliot . A High King in his blood. Quentin had meant that, when he said it, and had drank in the gratitude in Eliot’s eyes like a glass of pure, crisp water, essential and quenching.

15. Identity Theft

The first thing the man noticed as he came to consciousness was that his head was pounding. It felt like the worst hangover he'd ever had, times about a million, and for several seconds all he could do was lay there and gasp and wait for his eyes to adjust. He appeared to be in a semi-dark room of some sort. It was large, with a cavernous ceiling above him, and the air was drafty. Like a garage maybe, bigger even - a warehouse?

The second thing he noticed was that he wasn't alone in the room. There were shapes all around him, rustling and making confused, pained sounds. After a few moments of this, there was a whoosh of energy and an orb of light floated above his head, illuminating the space in a soft glow. Someone in the room had cast a simple light spell. He looked around and sat up slowly, trying not to jostle his still pounding head. His next observation was that pretty much everyone in the room with him was kind of stupidly attractive.

16. Promises

Quentin gets about thirty seconds alone in his bedroom in the cottage, before Eliot is bursting through the door without knocking. It's not that he wasn't expecting him to take it hard, but seriously - can he not give Quentin just a couple of minutes of peace?

"This isn't happening," Eliot says without preamble, slamming the door shut behind him. "I'm sorry, Q, but it's not."

"I honestly don't think it's your decision to make," Quentin says, running a tired hand over his face.

17. The Curse of the Broken Vase (aka The One Where They Get Married and Nothing Goes Wrong)

Quentin was pacing.

He was pacing, and he was tugging his hands through his hair, which he really shouldn't be doing because it had actually taken a hairdresser an annoying amount of time to brush it out and tie it back, and apparently it was perfect now, even though Quentin couldn't really see how it was different from his normal lazy bun, but whatever.

There would be people, Eliot included, who would be annoyed with him for messing up his hair.

18. Liquid Courage

Eliot was fidgeting. Which was unusual, and generally not a good sign. But it still wasn't much of a warning, Quentin had thought to himself later, given what was about to happen. Then again, Eliot had been acting strangely all week, a little distant and distracted, and Quentin had known his partner was working up to discuss something with him.

Quentin had been worried, of course, but in an abstract sort of way. He figured whatever it was, the two of them were more than equal to the challenge. Given everything they'd been through over the entire course of their relationship, he really couldn't imagine any piece of news that would be capable of obliterating their lives.

19. Reciprocal

The thing about Quentin Coldwater was that it was pretty much impossible not to love him. Honestly, it wasn't even Eliot's fault - how was he expected to spend every second of every day around such a beautiful, adorable, kind person without letting it get to him? And the sex. Well. That was fucking incendiary, which really wasn't helping his resolve in the love department.

20. Fragments

It was a perfectly normal morning in Fillory. Which, honestly, should have been Quentin's first warning that things were about to go very, very wrong. Fillory was many things, but normal was not one of them: Q had gotten used to being woken up by harried castle employees, alerting him to one catastrophe or another. The Serpent War had ended months ago, but the paperwork was still pouring in like it had never stopped. His official role in the government wasn't supposed to have anything to do with the war efforts, but it had been an all-hands-on-deck situation for the last year or so.

---

Oh my goodness, this took me back to almost my first story in this fandom! I have 22 Magicians fics posted, so that's almost all of them...

I think my favorite of all of these is Maybe This Time, just because I like starting off with such an iconic moment from canon. It's the kind of fic that I hope resonates with people differently upon a re-read, and I like the strong, instantly recognizable hook. You read that first line and you know where you are, but you have no real idea where the story is about to take you.

I've also had a lot of fun writing Julia in the Comet 'verse and I like her opening line to the first snippet I did for her!

---

I'll tag @hmgfanfic, @ameliajessica, @hoko-onchi-writes, @freneticfloetry, @honeybabydichotomy, @allegria23, @spiders-hth-is-an-outlier, @rubickk7, @portraitofemmy, @propinquitous, and all others who want to!!

[thickenmyblood]

I love how you really put a lot of thought into how you regard and read fanfic as well as how you respond to questions about how you feel aout it. Can I ask what are some parts/ideas in fics that really made you go wow, this is well planned or like I never would have thought about this or I forgot that this plot point and device were even a thing! I hope this makes sense

I love you, kind stranger. Thank you for reading my delirious posts and giving me the chance to scream about fics, which is always a pleasure. 

Note: If your fic is in this post and you don’t want it to be, let me know and I’ll take it down. 

Zeitnot by thereshaegoes

I love the idea of time travel, so when I read this fic’s summary I bookmarked it instantly. At first, I thought it was going to be eight chapters of Laurent waking up the day of the battle of Marlas, but the author really surprised me.

I loved that someone died at the end of each chapter (at first, at least) but what really made me go ‘oh’ is when Lauret realizes the Damen from “this new reality” is, in fact, his Damen! 

Damen not being with Jokaste was weird to me, but I shrugged it off as a personal choice the author had made. Then, when Damen was talking about abolishing slavery, I was still in denial. ‘Oh, well, some people don’t like to write Damen as a slave owner, which is cool’. And then, when the big reveal finally came, I was just… amazed. I literally put my phone down and went, ‘okay, this person really knows what they’re doing when it comes to writing’. 

I love the little plot twists. In my head, a plot twist most basic example is ‘oh, X is a traitor’ but… this? This is so much better.

Between the Shadow and the Soul by Anonymous

This work was… insanely refreshing, innovative, transgressive, and outrageously good. It does feature a lot of sex scenes, but at the same time, it felt like sex was the least important part of the story. I don’t know how to explain myself when it comes to this fic (and God knows I’ve tried) but… The sex scenes aren’t there just for the smut of it all, if that makes any sense. 

Auguste as a narrator is so unusual, and yet it made the fic so painful and enjoyable! I loved the way it left you wondering just how accurate his POV was. I loved the sex scenes with actual characterization. This author never, not even for one second, stopped focusing on the dynamic between Laurent, Auguste, and Damen. It could be argued that the Laurent/Auguste bit weighted more than the overall OT3 bit, but still… I had literally forgotten what sex scenes were for until I read this fic.

Sex scenes, especially in this particular work, are not parentheses in the story. They’re not there for the reader to take a break from the “actual plot” or “narration”. They are what holds the story together, and they’re opportunities for the reader to learn more about the characters

.

Cherry Wine by SteeleStingray

Yes, I’m back on my bullshit. Yes, I’m talking about CW again. But I’ll make it short because there is no way you don’t know how I feel about this work. If you don’t, check out this comment (which, by the way, is not even a fraction of what I wanted to say to the author when I read the fic). 

What I found innovative and made me go “is this allowed?” about CW is not the idea of an OT3, but rather this particular take on a relationship that consists of three people. I’ve read a few published books that feature similar couples (all of them suck, and when I say they suck I mean it) so I was very hesitant to read this because of that reason. 

Usually, when people write OT3 they pepper in a lot of stuff I don’t like to read about: extreme jealousy, misunderstandings, cheating, weird dynamics that feel stilted, awkward sex scenes where one of the three just sits in a chair and watches the other two like some voyeur from Juan José Saer’s stories. Guess what doesn’t happen in CW? 

Another thing I liked about this work is that it reminded me that themes in fiction aren’t limited to one specific work. This author really likes nicknames. At the time, when I had only read CW, I thought it was just a one-time thing. Turns out, it’s not. An emerald-coloured nightmare also features nicknames. I like this idea that you can tell who wrote something based on little details and narrative choices. It’s like the author is winking at you, going ‘ha, did you get it?’

Ink on Paper by deripmaver

I don’t usually like fics with non-linear narrative because I’m a lazy bitch who can’t keep up. I’d never really seen the point in using flashbacks, scenes from the past, or anything like that because my writing style (oh, fuck off, my writing style, who the fuck do I think I am) is more about references. And then I read this fic. And I was like, ‘okay, I’ve seen the light of not writing everything linearly like an idiot’. 

The Mannequin Gallery by marrieddorks

Yes, I realize I’m talking about all my favorite fics. I feel no shame.

This fic is a Modern AU. Everyone who has ever written a Modern AU knows that one of the trickiest parts is finding characters professions that make sense with who they are/what they like/what they’re good at. This story features Damen as an influencer. That’s it, that’s my whole tweet. 

It reminded me that even when you’re writing a Modern AU (or any sort of AU, really) it’s important to know what the essence of the characters you’re writing is. The way even Jord’s job makes sense… And how it feels like the author didn’t just steal the characters’ names and use them to create a random story (which is valid, too)... and… Okay, this has nothing to do with a plot twist or a narrative device but have you read this Nicaise? Have you? You haven’t read Nicaise until you’ve read this fic.

(and that's why) you're so beautiful now by iwasgonegonegone

This fic is 612 words. It has no plot. One of the tags reads, “listen they're in love and they're cute and that's all i have to say” and I… yes. This fic inspired me to write plot-less stories again. Not only that, it made me enjoy writing them. 

Lately, I’ve been talking to a friend of mine about a new pairing we both like a lot. We go back and forth for hours sometimes just talking about what they’d do, details about the worldbuilding, a billion ‘what-ifs’... and I love it. If one of us sat down to write a story based on all our conversations, it would be a character study fic. It would have, maybe, some plot to it, but… Plot would feel like an excuse to talk about their relationship. And I love that. I fucking hate plot, I hate it, and this… Yes. This fic is like a little slice of life. The author has mentioned before that they enjoy writing poetry (more than longer pieces of fiction) and this story reads like a poem. You know when you read a poem and you get this weird tingly feeling? Read this and feel that, you’re welcome.

The Life We Live by homewithyou

I’ve said before that I don’t go looking for mpreg. Sometimes, mpreg has come looking for me, and I’ve closed my door on its face. I read this fic mainly because I never pay attention to the tags on AO3 (healthy, I know) and I was too busy making myself toast to read the summary. 

I was five paragraphs in and this bit hit me like a fucking electric hammer to the head: “...which had been going haywire more often than not since the pregnancy began five months ago.” I was like, ‘wait, did I—am I reading—why am I—’ and then I just shut my mouth and continued reading. I’m glad I did. I’m glad I didn’t let my narrowmindedness stop me from giving this fic a try. I’m glad people out there are writing stories that they enjoy, about topics a few others would deem controversial. 

This also applies to the Lamen/Auguste fic I mentioned above. What’s the point of writing if you’re not going to take risks and be honest about what you like to write about? It takes honesty and commitment to write anything that strays from the norm. And so I’m glad this person posted this story, because it changed me in a small way (‘what if I shut the fuck up and read more mpreg instead of instantly clicking out?’).

This is another perfect example of how plot is poison and you don’t need it in your life (unless you enjoy poison. In that case consume the plot, write the plot, sniff the plot. And die). A morning in bed, just nuzzling and talking… living life… Again, this made me realize that you can say a lot about two characters just from a morning in bed. It made me want to write 25 pages of dialogue in bed (this and Manuel Puig’s book titled Kiss of the spider woman, which I recommend fervently). 

Plot? In this house? We don’t know her. You’re a strong, independent writer. You don’t need no plot.

For a more general response, I’d say that Steele’s worldbuilding is impeccable and made me look at the setting of stories differently. 

Foreshadowing is always amazing, but I haven’t read a lot of fics where it’s a prominent element (which is not to say authors aren’t good at it, I just don’t read enough fics to give you a good example of this). 

I really like oxymorons and when writers use funny adverbs. GallaPlacidia’s adverbs are to die for, so definitely check out her stories if you’re interested in that. 

I also love the way xlydiadeetz writes archs. She does this thing where she divides the story into different… timelines? archs? I… don’t even know. Amazing.

I hope this answer made sense. 

[connorandersons-blog]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Connor/Gavin Reed Characters: Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Gavin Reed, Jeffrey Fowler, Hank Anderson, Gavin Reed's Cat, Doa Gavin Reed's Cat Additional Tags: Injury, Stitches, Injury Recovery, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Enemies to Lovers, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Has a Vagina, Trans Character, Trans Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Gavin Reed Needs a Hug, Gay Disaster Gavin Reed, Masturbation, Cunnilingus, Blow Jobs, 69 (Sex Position), Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human) Summary:

Gavin Reed wasn't one to throw himself into danger unnecessary. That's actually a lie but don't tell him you know that. Its still a shock when he throws himself in front of danger for Connor, the android he supposedly hates with a passion.

-----------------------------------

"What?! Why me!" He looked out at the precinct, surely someone more qualified would be better for this job. Taking care of Reed, the resident asshole, who got shot and then stabbed? That wasn't Connor's job even if he felt guilty as hell. 

Fowler surely would have groaned in annoyance if it was acceptable, instead, the vein in his head seemed to grow larger to the point Connor was honestly worried. That man needed a vacation badly, maybe he should just go along with this terrible idea. "You were there when he got fucking injured and he needs to rest. The last time he got hurt he tried to come back the moment he could drag himself out of bed." 

Connor could see that Reed was stubborn to a fault and incredibly dedicated to his work. Not that he admired that stupid human. Nope. 

He still should have been able to protect Reed, he should be the one with the bullet yet… yet Gavin had pushed him out of the way and then took the knife wound as well. Why he did that Connor wasn't sure, but Reed had made him promise not to let anyone know what really happened. So Connor had simply said he outran Gavin and couldn't get back to him on time when the killer pulled a knife. 

"Alright, I need his address." He could see the surprise on Fowler's face when he gave in so easily, but he still rattled off Reed's address. Connor nodded, filing it away before waiting to be dismissed. 

"Let Hank know, but you're free to go for the rest of the week. You haven't taken a single day off and I'm tired of seeing your face." Fowler waved him off and Connor nodded. 

He'd still have Hank send him the files, he couldn't take a full week off. He just couldn't sit around and do nothing. Maybe Markus would have something for him to do too, he doubted Reed would even let him check in on him. 

He stopped by his desk, grabbing his jacket and informing Hank of his fate. He let out a long huff when Hank burst into laughter, and he flipped him the bird before leaving. Some help he was. 

He went by his place first, changing to more casual clothes that consisted of a forest green-tipped pique polo shirt, and a pair of distressed skinny jeans. He didn't have a pet to say hello and goodbye to, so he went straight to Reed's place, taking a cab. 

For some reason, he imagined Reed living in a shitty apartment, but instead, he found an adorable-looking Tudor-Style house. It had the normal features of one: steeply pitched roof, prominent cross gables, decorative half-timbering, and tall, narrow windows with small window panes. It was a small two-story, but from what he could tell it had a large backyard, and the front yard was nothing to scoff at either. 

He came up the walkway but stalled when he got to the door. He didn't want Reed to get up given his injuries, but he couldn't walk in unannounced. So he knocked on the door listening for any movement. "Detective Reed, it's Connor. I've been sent to help in your recovery." 

There was some shuffling and perhaps the sound of a cat meowing. "Fuck off Tincan!" Reed yelled before it went silent again. 

"I'm afraid I cannot do that. I must make sure you become fully recovered, and you getting up prematurely will hinder that." Why did he even have to be this stubborn? It wasn't like Connor would judge him, he had no right to given that it was his fault. 

"I said, FUCK. OFF." Reed screamed before starting to let out a terrible hacking cough. 

Connor only paused for a second longer before opening the door, a bit shocked that it was unlocked. He didn't focus on interior design, just on the figure laying on the couch convulsing slightly. 

He dropped into a crouch, scanning over Reed and grimacing at the sight. "Fucking hell Reed, you pulled your stitches." He wanted to swat at him, to tell him how he should be more careful but that would have to wait. 

He ignored Reed's squawks of protest as he lifted his shirt to expose the bloody gauze wrapped around him. "A bed would be better, and where is your first aid? I may need to restitch this." He hadn't moved the gauze yet, especially if he planned on moving Reed.  

"Fuck you, bedroom is upstairs and the first aid-" Gavin let out another cough, wincing when it pulled at his injuries, "-first aid is in the bathroom joining it." 

Connor nodded, only now seeing the very adorable cat that blinked at him with curious eyes. "I apologize in advance as this will hurt." He mumbled, putting an arm under Gavin's knees and the back. 

"Hey, hey, Tincan wait!" Gavin hissed as he was lifted up, Connor ignoring his protests again. "Fuck! Connor." His name came out like a whine as he made his way over to the staircase. 

The cat followed along behind, keeping pace but making sure not to trip Connor up. 

There were only two rooms upstairs, the bathroom and bedroom, and the bedroom was completely open, with no door to close it off from the stairs. 

The Abner upholstered sleigh bed looked soft enough so he placed Gavin on it carefully. The cat jumped up and laid down beside Gavin letting out a low purr. Connor went to the bathroom, and just like the bedroom, it was modern in style. 

There was a little built-in shelf that held different supplies along with a huge first aid kit. Connor grabbed it, making his way out to see Gavin cooing at his cat. "So good, you're my good girl." 

Connor set the kit down, opening it up and thankfully finding it fully stocked. It had more than enough supplies, he could stitch him up here without worrying. "She is very pretty, what's her name?" 

Gavin glared at him before he let out a sigh. "Doa, her name is Doa."

Connor nodded and helped him out of the shirt fully, gently pulling off the gauze. They both winced, but Connor bit down on his lip to stop from worrying out loud. 

He grabbed a swab and the alcohol, hovering over the bloody skin. "This is gonna hurt." He warned. 

"Nah dip." Gavin glared before tensing and letting out a long whine as Connor started to clean the area. Thankfully the bullet hole was alright, but he still made sure it was clean. 

"Sorry, sorry," Connor mumbled, throwing away the swab. "Alright, time to close it up again. You doing ok?" 

Gavin sagged back onto the bed, panting slightly. "No thanks to you." 

Connor nodded, glaring at the wounds. This was his fault, but now he was helping. "You are the one that jumped in front of me. You didn't have to." Not that he wasn't appreciative, he saved him a lot of trouble and pain. 

He applied some ointment to help numb the area before grabbing the needle. Gavin winced slightly but stayed still otherwise. "I did you ass. Can't have the DPD golden boy down for the count." 

Connor kept his eyes on his work but he wanted to look up at Gavin. "Humans are far more fragile, I could have taken it. Now you're suffering because of me." He could get repaired and be back the next day if he was lucky. It would hurt but he'd be fine and with minimal lasting damage. Gavin could be left with even more scars. 

His fingers brushed over one that was close to the wound, wondering how he got that one. Was he protecting someone else or himself? Gavin let out a small gasp and Connor pulled his hand back, biting down on his lip. 

He finished up the stitches in silence, ignoring how his hands wanted to linger on Gavin's warm skin. It was stupid to want to touch, he hated this stupid, reckless, foolish, good-hearted human. Fuck. 

"There," Connor said once finally done. He put on new gauze, content with his hard work. His hands didn't shake so the stitches were perfect, now Gavin had to not agitate them. 

"Thanks, I guess." Gavin didn't move except to keep petting Doa who hadn't moved from her spot either. "Not your fault, though." 

Connor rolled his eyes, closing the first aid and putting it right back where he found it. "I should have seen it coming and reacted accordingly, you shouldn't have even had to do that. I don't see how that's not my fault." 

Gavin let out a groan as he tried to sit up, but Connor was quick to help, putting pillows behind him. "Shit, that burns. Really though, and I'm not going to say this again so don't let it go to your head, ok? It ain't your fault, you don't gotta be perfect, and without you… without you, the DPD wouldn't be the same anymore." 

Gavin stared at his cat, cheeks getting a nice dusting of pink. Connor blinked, mouth falling open slightly. "Gavin…" he had no idea what to say. 

"Whatever. Just fuck off or whatever. Actually, since you're here can you make me some lunch? I uh, haven't been able to move since I got home." Gavin still couldn't look at him, but Connor couldn't seem to keep his eyes away. 

He hated how good Gavin looked, even with his injuries. His hair was ruffled, and his sweat pants looked a little too good on him hanging so lowly on his hips. The rings attached to Gavin's nipples, and he could see scars of where other piercings would be. Connor could see the v of his hips and he wanted to lick his way down, take Gavin's co–oh fuck. 

He nodded and all but ran back downstairs, glad that the inside was open-concept and modern in style so he didn't have to go searching for the kitchen. 

He went through the cabinets, finding some canned soup and grabbing it. Heating it up and making sure it wouldn't be too hot, along with getting a cup of water gave Connor enough time to get his body and mind under control. He still shifted, annoyed at how easily he got wet. 

He wanted to take more time, to reach down and rub at his cunt until he came but that would be highly inappropriate. He couldn't get off to Reed even if he was very attractive and had saved Connor. 

He took the bowl of soup and water up on a tray, placing it on Gavin's lap. "Here you go. Maybe I should look after you, you should have someone here given your injuries." If Gavin couldn't even move to get food then he'd need someone there. 

Gavin started eating his soup quickly, half-heartedly glaring at Connor. He didn't argue, though, but Connor just assumed that was because he was too focused on eating. 

Connor sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out towards Doa. She sniffed at his hand before pushing against it, her purr only getting louder. He ran a hand through his thick gray fur, letting out his own little hum at the softness. 

"Slow down, you don't wanna choke." He mumbled. 

"Screw you, I'm hungry. Maybe I like being choked." Gavin snickered, but he did eat a bit slower after. 

Connor's face felt like it was going to melt off with how hot it was, and he kept his head ducked to hide the blush. He did not need to start imagining things again, especially when he couldn't do anything about it. Even if he thought Gavin would reciprocate for a one-night stand or… or more, he couldn't with Gavin's injuries. He wasn't supposed to do any strenuous activity and Connor was absolutely certain sex counted as that. 

"You're cute when you blush," Gavin mumbled and set the bowl off to the side. "Fuck, wow these pain meds are strong." 

And that, Gavin, wasn't even in his right mind. The meds would keep it all foggy so the pain wouldn't become overbearing. That still didn't mean Connor didn't blush harder and put a hand over his face. "Gavin, maybe you should get some sleep?" 

"Can't. I feel dirty, haven't been able to take a shower. I can't though, and I can't take a bath. Don't know what the doctor expected me to do. Not like I can just get a sponge bath from my cat." Gavin started chuckling at the mental image of that but stopping when it became too much. 

"I'll do it," Connor said without thinking. He wanted to slap himself but he couldn't take it back now. 

Gavin raised an eyebrow but shrugged. "You know what? Fuck it, why not. Already took a bullet for you, might as well let you see it all. Not like I'm shy. Towels are in the bathroom too." 

Connor found what he needed easily, returning to the bed and laying out a towel on it so the sheets wouldn't get dirty. He helped Gavin onto the towel, laying on his side, and then stalled. "Um, I can do your top first? Or just your chest, if you want." 

Gavin huffed and started wiggling, trying to push his sweatpants down without bending. Connor grabbed his hips, keeping him still. "Hey, hey stop. I just fixed your stitches, don't make me do it again." 

Gavin was facing away from Connor, but he turned his head to glance back at him. "It's alright, really. I don't care if people see me naked, it's just a body, right?" 

Right, just a body. Just a very good-looking body that he was going to be rubbing and soaping up. He was careful pulling the sweats down, looking past Gavin before folding the pants. 

He took the wet rag and dragged it over Gavins back, completely ignoring Gavin's ass or anything lower for now. He was careful with the rag, grabbing the soaping one and working on that silently. Gavin's back was toned and he had a small tattoo of the word Alive that Connor brushed his fingers over. It seemed like a promise to himself somehow, but Connor didn't ask about it. It seemed a bit too personal as ironic as that was given their situation. 

"You still ok?" He asked as he started to wash the soap off his back. Gavin had been oddly quiet, but he didn't seem tense. 

Gavin gave a low hum, nodding his head. He still didn't make a noise, but perhaps he was just tired. He grabbed the rag for just water and hovered over Gavin's skin. He rubbed at the small of his back before going down to his ass, trying to make it quick. 

He switched to the soap and this time took more time. He really did try not to get caught up in it, but his thighs pressed together as he washed Gavin's ass. He dipped the cloth between his ass and froze when Gavin shivered, letting out a choked-off moan. 

Shit. Fucking hell. "I… Gavin." He didn't know what to say, he would stop but part of him wanted to keep going. 

"Sorry, sorry. Uh, you don't have to stop if you don't want to." Gavin bit out, voice sounding strange. Oh, that's why he wasn't talking. 

"Ok." He kept cleaning, taking his time even more now that he knew it was definitely alright. His own breathing became a little labored biting down on his tongue to keep his interested sounds at bay. 

He finished Gavin's back before helping him lay on his back. Gavin's hand covered his cock and Connor tried not to look. 

"Um, shit weird question…" Gavin trailed off, staring up at the ceiling. "Do you have a… um, you know." 

Connor started on his chest, specifically those pink nipples that had rings hanging from this deliciously, pausing at Gavin's question. "I do not have a penis if that's what you're wondering." 

"Huh. Nothing down there… isn't there like parts you can get?" 

"Oh, I never said I had nothing. I came with a vagina, and I haven't thought of changing it." He gave a small shrug, taking Gavin's right arm and cleaning it with gentle circular strokes. 

Gavin finally looked over at him, both of their faces flushed but with different colors. "Huh, wonder why they did that. Is it, like–uh, reactive? Or does it act like a human one?" 

God how he wanted to take Gavin's hand and show him how reactive he is. How dripping wet he can get, and how wet he already was just from this. "Yeah, sometimes I think it's more sensitive than humans." 

"Cool, yeah, yeah makes sense." Gavin looked away, and Connor took his other arm, fully exposing him but Connor did not look down. He kept his eyes on Gavin's chest and arms. 

"Should I… or maybe you should clean your penis?" Now he did glance at it and felt himself drool a little bit. It was nice and thick, not too long that would be uncomfortable though. It was hard and standing at attention, and Connor really wanted to wrap his lips around it. "Uh…" 

"You can? I'm sorry, I didn't know I'd react this way? It feels really good and I guess I just, I'm relaxed and, yeah." Gavin stumbled over his words, but he didn't try to cover himself again. 

Connor cleaned around first, not trying to tease the man but he was definitely stalling. Gavin let out a huff when Connor swiped over his hip again, reaching out to cover Connor's hand and guide it to cover his dick. He gasped, his hand tightening over Connor's and therefore Connor's hand tightened around his length. 

He swiped up then down before pulling his hand back. His hand dipped down, very briefly swiping over his balls and letting out a long exhale when Gavin outright moaned. 

"Sorry, sorry. Just gotta do your legs then you're good." Connor murmured, peeling his eyes away from the appealing sight. 

"Fuck, it's ok, I should be the one apologizing." Gavin subconsciously spread his legs and Connor took the opportunity to wash his thighs. Damn those thighs could crush his skull and he'd say thank you. 

Connor shook his head, even if he wasn't attracted to him he wouldn't blame him, bodies reacted even when you didn't want them to. "There's no need, I'd be a bit worried if you were stimulated and didn't achieve an erection." 

Gavin snorted, eyes falling closed as Connor all but massaged his legs. His erection still stood proud but Gavin didn't reach for it and Connor tried to ignore it. 

"Right. All finished. I'm going to put this away and maybe even clean myself up in your bathroom if that's alright?" He said once Gavin was cleaned off and patted dry. 

He didn't really wait for a response, escaping into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He tingled with want and after putting away the supplies he turned the shower on but didn't get in. Instead, he sat on the toilet and shoved his hands in his pants. If he did this fast then maybe he wouldn't feel so guilty. 

He rubbed his fingers in quick little circles, pressing down just enough to have his legs twitching to close around his hand. His whole stomach tensed as he sped up, already slick with want and he had to bite down on his knuckles to keep from crying out. 

He wouldn't finger himself, this would be the fastest and cleanest way, not that he wouldn't need to wash his hands anyway. He’s pulsing and wetter than he can ever remember being in his entire life, and he can't help but imagine the man in the next room. 

Would he eat him out? He probably would, Connor would lay back and Gavin would tease him endlessly with his tongue. Connor would want to touch everywhere, that tattoo, those soft but firm muscles, those fucking nipple piercings that he'll never be able to forget are there. 

He lets out a small gasp, head falling back as his hips trying to lift off the seat and into his own head desperately. He wants more, he wants Gavin's fingers inside him and he wants his cock to fill him up. 

He throbs, even more, fingers working faster as he lets out a suppressed moan. Fuck it felt good, and he was so close. He'd take Gavin into his mouth like he wanted. He'd let Gavin fuck his throat until his vocal box was completely destroyed. 

His thighs start to tighten and he can feel the pressure of his orgasm start to rip through him. He lets out a strained moan as he convulses and his thighs constrict around his hand. 

He has to pull his hand away when it gets too much and he's left panting. His eyes closed from pure bliss, but after a few seconds, they blink open. It hadn't taken long at all, he was pretty sure that was a personal record. 

He cleaned himself up and washed his hands before shutting the shower off and opening the door. He should have knocked, he should have not done what he just did but all he can think about is the hiss of pain. 

His eyes widen as he sees Gavin on the bed, his cock in his hand as he strokes himself quickly. His body is clenched tight, curling forward and Connor can see the stitches being pulled. 

He rushed over and without thinking covered Gavin's hand, using the other to push him flat against the bed. "Stop, you're gonna hurt yourself." He scolded. 

Gavin whined, hips bucking up into their hands. "Please, shit please I'm close, let me finish. I'm so sorry, I thought, shit you aren't wet. You didn't take a shower?" 

Now it was Connor's turn to flush, having forgotten to actually jump in to make it seem like he'd showered. "I–you can't, you're bending forward and agitating your wounds." 

"Either let me and stay, let me and leave, or do it your damn self but I need to, you fucker." Gavin growled, trying to move his hand but Connor swatted it away. This was his fault too and he'd take care of it. 

"Alright, lay flat and try not to move, I'll take care of you." Even after just coming he could already feel that tingly want for more. He truly was insatiable, but that wasn't anything new. 

Gavin nodded eagerly, hands going to grasp at the bedsheets under him as Connor slowly stroked up and down. It would be better if Connor did this, he knew that if he left Gavin would do it so that was the better of two options. He could make sure Gavin didn't strain himself, and an orgasm would be good for his pain. 

The hand that had pushed Gavin down trailed to his nipple, twirling the jewelry around before tugging ever so slightly. Gavin whimpered, dick twitching in Connor's hand so he did it again but harsher. 

His own hips sought out friction but he denied himself, he needed a hand to keep Gavin down and one to pleasure him. He licked his lips in thought before grinning widely. 

He leaned forward, licking over the head before taking it into his mouth and sucking. Connor's hand on his chest kept him from jolting him but he couldn't stop his hips from bucking up. Connor whimpered at the length in his mouth, sinking all the way down. 

"Fuck! Your mouth is so warm." Gavin said in awe, his voice husky and raw already. "Sit on me." 

Connor pulled back with a pop, licking over his lips again. "Sitting on your chest could injure you more." 

"No, sit on my face. It'll keep me down and I wanna taste you. I wanna get you off, please." He sounded so pretty begging like that, who could say no? 

He stood to push his pants off, tugging off his shirt and tossing it to the other side of the bed. He preened slightly as Gavin's eyes raked over him with clear lust. 

Connor carefully climbs onto the bed, positioning himself right above Gavin's face. He can feel the heat of his breath against his dripping cunt and Gavin kisses his thigh instead, making his shutter. He kisses his way down to Connor's wet slit. He pauses to breathe the scent of him in, before reaching up to spread his lips and lick him from cunt to clit. 

Connor dips his head down to take him back into his mouth, but instead gives the head kitten licks, his tongue dipping into the slit, and Gavin's moan spurs him on. 

Gavin wraps his lips around Connor's hard clit, and sucks, letting the vibrations seep into his skin. Connor's own whine is amplified when he takes him fully into his mouth, barely holding himself up. 

Gavin's hand comes up, and two fingers easily slide in. Gavin licks into him, tongue dipping into his labia, toying at the sensitive folds of skin surrounding his clit. 

Connor bobs his head desperately, licking and sucking and every inch of Gavin's length. He lets out tiny moans, the friction against his tongue absolutely delicious. His hips bounce slightly, the pleasure too much and not enough at the same time and if he needed air he'd be breathless. 

Gavin pushes in a third finger and curls them, pushing against that sweet spot. Connor pushes down hard against his mouth, swallowing around Gavin with a small cry. 

Gavin sucks on his slit hard and Connor can't stop himself from coming. He fucks his throat until he can feel Gavin tensing but the man hasn't stopped. His fingers only press in harder and the tongue brings him close to the edge again. 

Connor doesn't pull away, he swallows down every last drop as his own body convulses with his third orgasm. The taste of Gavin in his mouth is addicting but the man needs to breathe and Connor needs to make sure he's ok. 

He climbs off just as carefully as he got on, scanning Gavin. Other than what he expected, elevated heart rate, flushed body, pupils dilated, and the likes, Gavin seems perfectly fine. 

Around Gavin's mouth is a little messy with Connor's slick, so he takes it upon himself to lick it all up before finally kissing him. 

Gavin gasps, but it turns into a happy little sound so Connor doesn't pull away. The kiss is oddly sweet and tender, but they can both taste themselves and they like it a little too much. 

Connor only pulls away to let Gavin breathe, fingers dancing over the human's heated skin. "You're amazing at that." He says with a small giggle. 

"What, eating you out or kissing?" Gavin asks, looking at him with too fond eyes. Maybe Connor does know why Gavin jumped in front of the bullet. Connor would do the same if given the chance. 

"Both, but we can't do the first again until you're better." He waves a finger at him like he's a naughty child, and it gets a genuine laugh out of Gavin. It's truly a beautiful sound and Connor almost wants to beg for more of it. 

"I'm glad we can both agree there will be more. You know… you looking after me might not be a terrible thing." Gavin smirks up at him. 

"Well, I was given the week off. I'm sure we can find some creative things to pass the time that won't hurt you." He already had a few ideas and was dying to try it out. 

"I've never been so happy to have been shot and stabbed in my life," Gavin said before pulling him back down into a kiss.

Connor wished he wasn't in pain, but he honestly couldn't agree more.

[sapphicmsmarvel]

Woman Like Me

hahahaha i love little mix and the avengers so any time I can mix the two im gonna do it. 

(you should go listen to them, especially their newest album LM5)

song: woman like me by little mix

Carol: I can tell you're shy and I think it's so sweet. The thing about Carol that got you, was the fact that she was shy around you. With everyone else you noticed how she is always boisterous with the others, then with you she's quiet and doesn't talk much and she gets red.

At first you thought she didn't like you, but she'd always bring you gifts, your favorite flowers and candy. Or a couple times, she'll bring you a cupcake from your favorite bakery.

When you brought this up with Thor, Thor rolled his eyes and smiled, "Lady Y/N, she has feelings for you. That's why she's shy and keeps bringing you gifts."

You blushed at the idea, this goddess, this intelligent stunning woman had feelings for you? "No she doesn't." You shook your head, your cheeks flaming.

Thor nodded his head, "yes she does, she specifically asks me what you like so she can surprise you with it."

"Nope, nope, nope." You shook your head and Carol came in.

She laughed, "why does Y/N keep saying 'nope'?"

Thor looked at you, "I'll let her explain." He said and left the room, you scoffed and shook your head, that little shit.

Carol raised her eyebrow at you and you groaned. This was gonna be embarrassing.

"What is it? I promise I won't laugh." She said smiling, something in you blossomed, seeing Carol not get timid on you.

You stood up, "well, Thor thinks you have a crush on me," you didn't miss how her eyes widened and cheeks blushed immediately, "and I was saying nope because well...you're you. There's no way I'd have a shot." You shrugged sheepishly.

She walked forward, "well, that's what I thought when I first got to know you, about me not having a shot."

Your eyes widened as she stopped in front of you, you were at her chin. "Well, you're the only person shooting." You smiled.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure that's not true." And smiled, you were weak in the knees, you'd do anything to keep her smiling like that.

You laughed, either full of nerves or on some euphoric high of all the feelings you have for this girl. "Nah it's true, my vagina is probably full of cobwebs from not being used." Your eyes widened at what just flew out of your mouth.

Oh my god did I actually just say that? I said that, fucking shit she's gonna think I'm weird.

She let out a full laugh that you wanted to hear more, "I guess we're gonna have to change that."

You hummed, ignoring the blush that probably reached your toes. "Sounds pretty bold for a girl who hasn't kissed me yet."

She rolled her eyes, smiling, "May I kiss you?" "You certainly may."

Wanda: I always say what I'm feeling, I was born without a zip on my mouth.

You were arrogant, flirty, outgoing and didn't have a filter. Whereas Wanda was the exact opposite.

There was a meeting with government officials, everyone wore their best dress, you on the other hand; wore your signature all black, black jeans, with your dog tags and leather jacket. (Of course to Wanda, you always looked killer). There was certain politician/government leader that was in the room that you were famous for hating. Not a week went by without you mentioning him being a coward.

Everyone was on edge because it had to go well, it had to, but you could only keep your mouth shut for so long.

Wanda counted the minutes before you exploded; it was ten.

He mentioned something about the LGBTQ+ community, even went so far as to say a slur.

"Excuse me?" Your voice rang out. Deadly as the sharpest knives. Everyone froze, there was not a single soul in the room who was breathing, besides the prick. "You heard me," he said, in that man voice, the 'i do whatever i want, how dare you challenge me' voice.

Wanda could tell you were gonna knock him so hard his spray tan will evaporate off. "LGBTQ+ people are not awful people. And do not deserve to be electrocuted, if you think we're gonna accept that, you need to be impeached on the grounds of oncoming dementia." You snapped. "You got anything to say?" He shouted at Cap in fury. "We all agree with Y/N. I think she's handling our points pretty well actually." At that, Tony took his hand and Steve was smart enough not to look surprised.

You knew, they all knew for that matter, they weren't dating but it was quite the middle finger to give to the politician.

"This meetings over, we'll continue when you stop being a  homophobic asshole."

She tried not to shiver at your tone, you've never, and will never, speak to her like that. But hearing that tone, the 'I'm above you' tone made her flustered.

You walked around to Wanda's shoulders and gently squeezed them reassuringly. Wanda hated being in the spotlight but she also wanted the asshole to know that he was in a room with LGBTQ+ members.

He looked at Wanda (which made you want to punch him in throat) and scoffed, he walked out without another word.

Maria: And baby just be mine for the weekend, We can get a takeaway and sit on the couch.

Keeping Maria to yourself for a weekend was difficult, she was always needed but you were selfish at times. This was one of those times.

You specifically told Fury that you claim her certain weekends, he admired the fact that you didn't even ask, you told him. Because of that (and he knew you made Hill happy) he allowed it. Unless you know, the end of the world was happening.

You guys always got take out, either chinese, italian or just plain pizza. You always tried to cook but most of the time she'd insist cooking. She got a thrill over seeing you happy over a dish she made.

The weekend is spent in pajamas, barely if any makeup, movies and tv. It's the few times Maria can completely let her guard down. She puts her weapons away in the gun safe that's in your shared closet, pets your guys' cat and cuddles with you on the sofa.

Your saturdays with her consist of a horror movie marathon, either super cheesy or regularly cheesy. Even some non cheesy ones. She loves your commentary on them and you love seeing her laugh at the stupid characters.

Sundays are the days where you guys wake up at 7 to watch the sunrise on your balcony with cups of coffee, blankets and the early morning dew or fog. It's a peaceful time, you have a whole playlist for it. Then you two would head in and have a big sunday breakfast which you would invite Fury too if he felt like it (which was often because he couldn't refuse your homemade waffles).

After Fury leaves you two spend the day in bed, soaking in the time you have. Most of the time you're doing naughty activities but after when the suns setting you just lay in each others arms with the tv playing some trashy show.

You two cherished these weekends and Fury would always remark how relaxed Maria looked after one of them.

Natasha: I like my coffee with two sugars in it, high heels and my jewelry drippin'.

You brought a lot of the "girly" back to Nat, because of her childhood being robbed completely she didn't have the same experimentation as other girls who were brought up. As in no dying hair, colorful clothes and playing with makeup (when it wasn't for a mission)

You introduced her to the "self care" days, where you broke out the face masks, bath salts and you two went radio silent (with a warning to the Avengers of course). You two spent the day watching disney movies and taking care of yourselves.

You took her shopping and she ended up liking a lot of luxury brands like Gucci, Chanel and many others. She bought you a Rolex which freaked you out because wow, expensive and you don't wanna break it.

She spoils you endlessly, buying you books when you have a hard day or even brand new fuzzy socks. You spoil her back of course (she's also a sucker for fuzzy socks).

You've created a monster, she is a bad and boujie girl and makes sure people know it.

Shuri: Insecure but I'm workin with it, many things I could get rid of. Ain't about to give it up.

Of course, you were confident in yourself and who you were. But when it came to being smart, that was when you faltered in your self confidence. Your girlfriend was the princess of Wakanda and designed nearly all the technology in the country.

You always pointed it out but Shuri always rolled her eyes, "your smart in your owns way, sweetheart."

"Oh what ways?" You asked, laughing, "I can't do this formula and building stuff."

"You know how to be safe."

"Oh, common sense." She threw a paper ball at you because of your response.

"No, you know war strategy, you know how to train someone who's never been trained in their life. You know weaponry and how to prevent war disasters." She came over to you and wrapped her arms around your waist. "We would be lost without you." She kissed your cheek and swayed with you for a minute.

You knew that wasn't true, because they had generals for all the stuff you do. But T'challa and Shuri have said that you're the favorite because you're compassionate yet stern with people. Talking with Shuri made you feel better as it usually did.

Eventually your insecurities faded, of course they were still there but not as prominent. You worked hard to learn some new things relating to building things. For example, knowing how to fix some stuff if Shuri was busy or out of the country.

But you would never give up your insecurities, because they made you who you were.

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary -Chapter 4

Warnings: none. Just some cute Ovi and little kids ;)

Tagging: @valkyrie-of-the-light, @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y

It is a fifteen-minute drive into town; a picturesque central area with a healthy mixture of both low and high end shops and numerous eateries and cafes. In the winter it is reminiscent of a Dickens novel; snow covered trees and streets, the Victorian area store fronts boasting immaculate decorations and displays in their front windows,  white lights strung from almost every available surface, and a skating rink in the centre of it all.  In the summer, when tourists flowed into the area and brought in the most money for the economy, the sidewalks were full of patios and lined with immaculate floral gardens. Telluride is a small town, and regular residents all seemed to know one another; conversing in front of the bank and post office, catching up on gossip and talking about high school sports. Tyler’s already exchanged pleasantries and small talk with five people, and that was when just stepping out of the car.

 When they’d first arrived, talk had spread fast about the new family in town.  They’d spent four months living with her parents and getting on their feet before buying able to buy a home with their joint savings and money that Mahajan had managed to scrap together and give as thanks for taking care of his son. Nik had taken it upon herself to act as the ‘small town gossip’, quickly using some of her contacts to spread small little rumours about who they were: an ex Australian Army soldier who’d been injured in Afghanistan and forced to retire at a young age, his young pregnant wife and their baby girl, and a kid that they’d adopted after losing both of his parents. It had managed to keep people from asking too many questions when they’d show up unannounced at the house with various casseroles and baked goods and welcoming gifts. Every so often someone would ask about his service record and just what happened that forced him to leave at such a young age and Tyler would just repeat the same old bullshit about arthritis and nagging injuries and show off some of the more prominent scars that marred his body. Just like five years ago in Dhaka, people had taken to them.  They were young, friendly, always willing to lend a hand if someone needed it.  Never too accessible, but just accessible enough.  Never free and easy with their personal information, but giving out just enough that kept people curious. And when he started his own business, word travelled fast and within a week he had a client list of over two dozen. On his first day of school, Ovi already had people waiting to meet him. Interested in who the kid with the ex Army Aussie dad was.

Even five years later it is a novelty of sorts: an Australian living in their small town. They’re intrigued by his accent and his slang and always want to hear stories about ‘the land down under’. Even now he couldn’t go into the hardware store or into the pharmacy to buy diapers without someone wanting to hear all about kangaroos and koalas and was it really true they had spiders the size of dinner plates? He humoured them for the most part; slightly annoyed when they attempted to copy the way he talked. What was the saying? Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery? He’d just laugh it off and they’d think it was hilarious whenever he called them mate.

The twins and Millie had decided to tag along; the boys wanting mohawks done at the barber and their sister wanting ice cream. The little mom and pop candy store was always one of their stops when they happened to make it into town, and she wasn’t about to let her father forget about it.

“I can take her,” Ovi offers, still trying to make up for his huge fuck up the night before. “I could use some ice cream too.”

“Oh please, daddy?! Please?!” Millie gushes, as she waits for him to unload her brothers from their car seats before tending to her. “Can Ovi take me for ice cream? Let Ovi take me for ice cream!”

“Sometimes I think you love him more than me,” he teases, as he leans across the back seat to unbuckle her, and in response she curls both arms around his neck and gives him a sloppy, noisy kiss on the forehead.

“I don’t love anyone more than you daddy.”

“Not even mommy?”

“Mommy is a close second. Don’t tell her that though. It might make her sad.”

“What about your brothers? Where are they on your list?”

“Oh they are wayyyy down there. Like between broccoli and Brussel sprouts.”

“You hate broccoli and Brussel sprouts.”

Her eyes narrow. “Exactly.”

He can’t help but laugh at the seriousness in her voice, at the frown that takes over her face, the way her normally brilliant blue eyes grow dark.  So much like him in so many ways. He sees it all the time; in all of his kids. Certain facial expressions and mannerisms that he long ago recognized in himself.

“Okay, I know they piss you off, but they’re still your brothers,” he reminds her, as she clambers out of the SUV.

“Maybe they’re adopted,” she sounds hopeful at the idea, and then rolls her eyes at them when they start harassing her about her dress and her pig tails.

“I hate to break it to you, but they’re not. They definitely came out of mommy’s tummy. I was there. I saw it happen.”

“But how’d they get in there? Maybe other babies got put in her tummy by accident.”

“Naw, I was there for that too. So sorry. You’re stuck with the brothers you have.”

She’s side eyeing them now, with absolute disdain despite the fact they’re actually behaving and just waiting patiently for their dad to lock the car and set the alarm.  He recognizes that look, too. He’s used it many times himself when someone’s mere presence has annoyed the shit out him.

“They’re just so…ughhh…” she huffs dramatically.

That’s definitely more her mother coming out.

“But at least I have you, right Ovi?” she curls a hand around two of his fingers and gazes up at him adoringly. “At least you won’t pick on me and pull my hair and do stupid boy stuff. You’re like an older brother, right? That’s what mommy always says. That you’re practically my big brother. Is that true?”

The kid looks as if he may burst into tears at the mere thought of it. “If that’s what you want. Do you want me to be your big brother? I’ve always wanted a little sister.” He’s always seen her that way. She’d been his first hands on experience with babies and he’d relished every moment. Never once complaining when he was asked to change a dirty diaper or she threw up on his clothes. He was a natural, calm, patient, compassionate. A surprise, considering he’d never been brought up experiencing any of those traits.

“I can be your little sister,” she offers, and picks his arm up and slings it around her shoulders.

It takes him a moment to compose himself. And he blinks his eyes several times and clears his throat and then smiles down at her.

“I’d like that.”

 ****

When he was a kid, this place would have been paradise. An entire wall devoted to clear plastic cylinders filled with a rainbow of various candy, display cases showing of chocolates in all kinds of shapes and even cartoon characters and over two dozen different flavours of fudge. There’s even an old fashion milkshake and ice cream bar on the far wall, serving everything from basic cones to sundaes with dozens of available toppings, and enormous banana splits.

Oh, to be a child again! He longed for those days. Not his childhood and his previous life in India; spent as a prisoner in his own home because of his father’s evil misdoings. But a childhood that would be much simpler. Worry free. Where he could actually be a kid and enjoy all the innocence that came with it. If he could choose, he would pick this moment, this place, this family, to experience as a child. In a home where he felt safe. Valued. Respected. Loved. Where his opinions and his feelings are validated, and he can speak without being spoken to. Where there is more laughter than there were tears. More smiles than harsh raised voices.

And love. Lots and lots of love.

That is what he witnessed in his new home, with his new family.  He’d been made to feel as if he was loved just as much as the biological children. He was valued. Seen as a person and not a thing. Tyler and Esme never said those three little yet powerful words, but he felt them. In the way they expressed pride in his school accomplishments, in the way they helped him battled his issues since the incident in Dhaka five years ago, how they encouraged him to always try his best and learn from his mistakes. Even when he was younger and being disciplined, there was love in it.  They only wanted what was best for him and hated to see him wandering down difficult paths.

No. They never said it. Neither did he. But it was all around him. And inside of him.

Half a dozen customers linger in the store; a small family picking out candy, a couple sitting on the stools at the counter, and a solo man sitting in one booth at the very back.  A trucker style hat pulled low over his eyes, sleeves of brightly coloured tattoos visible under his t-shirt, a mug of black coffee and that day’s newspaper in front of him.  He glances up as they enter; his eyes locking on Ovi’s for a split second, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Ovi finds it a tad unsettling. He’s spent a lot of time wandering the town and in and out of the various shops and he’s never seen that face before. And in Telluride, newcomers stick out like sore thumbs.

Millie tightly holds his hand and happily skips alongside of him, pausing every couple of feet to spin in a circle; commenting on the way her dress looked when she twirled. Because that’s how the princesses’ dresses moved in all the movies she’s seen, and she would very much like to be a princess when she’s old.

And a firefighter.

“That’s quite the combination,” he remarks. “A princess and a firefighter? Are you going to wear your tiara and your princess dress when you go to fires?”

“Maybe the dress, but not the tiara,” she says. “Because I wouldn’t be able to get my helmet on.”

Pretty sound logic.

He notices the way people watch them, mostly out of curiosity. That sweet little girl in her blue and white gingham dress and her light up Frozen sandals.  With her unruly hair and her huge blue eyes, her hand tightly clutching his. They probably think he’s a babysitter. Or a family friend. But truth be told, he is closer to her than he’s ever been to any of his blood family.

“Let’s see what we want,” he says, and scoops her up into his arms, settling her on his hip in the same fashion he’s seen Tyler use so many times.  And she curls an arm around his neck and pushes her unruly hair out of her eyes and leans forward as far she can go in order to get a closer look at the tubs of ice cream laid out in the freezer before them. He doesn’t know why he bothers. She orders the same thing every time they’re there.

“Aren’t you a lucky little girl,” the cashier says, as she rings up their order. “Having a friend take you out for ice cream.”

“Oh, he’s not my friend,” Millie informs her. “He’s my brother.”

The woman arches an eyebrow.

“What she means is…” Ovi attempts an explanation of his own, but Millie jumps right in.

“Just ‘cause we look different doesn’t mean he’s not my brother. ‘Cause he is. My mommy and daddy adopted him when his mommy and daddy died. He didn’t have anywhere else to live so mommy and daddy let him live with us. I also have three other brothers.”

“Are they adopted to or…”

“Nope. They’re my real brothers. They have the same mommy and daddy as I do. Two little brothers were enough and when mommy was having another baby, I really wanted a little sister. Or a puppy. Puppies don’t cry all the time and wake me up in the middle of the night and steal my toys. But nope, another brother,” she’s clearly disgusted by that fact. “How come so many boys? Daddy says that some people just have lots of boys and others have lots of girls and some just have a little of both. But mommy says daddy is a boy making machine. Whatever that means.”

“I am so sorry,” Ovi apologizes. “She likes to talk.”

“My brothers that came right after me are twins,” she continues, taking the cashier’s wide-eyed interest and awe at her precociousness as her cue to keep going. “Tanner. And Tyler. Tyler’s my daddy’s name too. My baby brother is Declan. He’s the cutest one. The other two are just way too annoying.  And Declan doesn’t pick on me and pull my hair. And I’ll make sure he doesn’t…” she makes a fist, as if to signify she’s going to punch him in the face if he doesn’t tow the line.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ovi notices the tattooed man in the trucker hat slipping out of his booth; mug of coffee and newspaper in his hands as he moved closer to them. Dropping into one of the stools closest to the entrance.  He shifts nervously from foot to foot; keeping one arm tight around Millie as he pocked his change and then carries her and their treats to the nearest table. He makes sure that he’s facing the door. Tyler has always told him that is was the smart thing to do; you didn’t want to be surprised by trouble sneaking up on you.

He hates that he’s still so paranoid. That the nightmare he’d gone through in Dhaka still bothers him to this day. It’s his cross to bear; painful and heavy. And some days he just wishes he could ease the burden on his tired shoulders.

Instead of taking the seat across from him, Millie slips in right beside him, kneeling on the vinyl bench in order to reach her ice cream.  She happily digs in; spooning the bubble gum flavoured concoction into her mouth as she rattles on about gymnastics and martial arts and how she really wishes that daddy didn’t hate hockey so much, because she’d really like to learn how to play it. And how to hit people really hard and fight them. And as he listens intently and offers up nods and appropriate responses, he casually keeps an eye on the stranger seated at the counter.  Ovi knows he’s watching them. He can feel it every time he looks away to pay attention to Millie.

“Ovi?” she suddenly asks, as she licks ice cream off her fingers.

“Yeah?”

“What does daddy do? What’s his job?”

“He fixes up houses and makes them nice again. And helps people do things they’re not able to do in their own homes. You know that.”

“I don’t mean that job. I mean his other job. The one that Auntie Nik always calls him on the phone about.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I…”

“He always leaves in the middle of the night and then he’s gone in the morning and I’m mad that he didn’t even say goodbye,” she continues. “And then he’s gone a long time and mommy is really sad and cries about it. She tries to say that she doesn’t cry, but I hear her when she thinks I’m asleep. I know she’s worried about daddy. Is he doing bad things?”

“No,” he assures her. “He’s not.”

“I don’t like that he’s gone all the time. It makes me sad. And then I can’t sleep because I’m sad and daddy isn’t there to tuck me in and read me a story.  Where is he? Where does he go? Mommy says he’s far away, but he still calls us every night. It makes me feel better when he calls. ‘Cause I can hear his voice.”

“He’s a lot of different places,” Ovi explains. “He travels a lot.”

“But what does he do? What kind of job is it?”

“He helps people. People that are in trouble.”

“Are bad guys after the people?”

He nods. “The bad guys are after them and your dad goes and helps them get away. He rescues good people from bad people.”

Her eyes widen and her voice is above a whisper, speaking in astonished awe. “You mean like a superhero?!”

He grins. “Just like a superhero.”

“Like the Avengers?!”

“Just like them. Just like Thor.”

“Oh, he’s my favourite!” she gushes.  “Mommy’s too because she says he’s a total snack.”

“I wouldn’t tell your dad that. About mom thinking Thor’s a snack. Or about how you know he’s a superhero. He doesn’t see himself that way and he doesn’t like to talk about it. You know how some superhero’s keep it a secret and no one knows who they are? That’s how it is with your dad. So we’ll just keep it between us, okay? You don’t want to embarrass him, right?”

“I’m not brave, mate.”

“Of course you are. You rescue people.”

“Yeah, sometimes. Sometimes I do other things.”

“You mean like killing people?”

Ovi can hear that conversation as if it were just yesterday. At Gaspar’s house, when he’d asked Tyler if he’d always been brave.  How could you not be? When you willingly put your own life on the line to save the lives of others? Even if there was money involved, it still took a lot of courage to go into a situation where you didn’t know if you’d survive or not.  Tyler and his father were nothing alike. His father had killed people with horrible intentions. Tyler kills because he has to. To save others and himself.  He would never tell the little girl beside him that. Those details are difficult to digest and painful to hear about, and she doesn’t need to know them until she is older.

And maybe not even then.

“Ovi?” she asks once again, and he uses the tip of his thumb to clear ice cream from the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah?”

“That man is giving me the creeps.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, tries to play it cool. “What man?”

“That one,” her eyes narrow once more as she glares at the stranger in question.  “He keeps looking at us. Why does he keep looking at us?”

“Maybe he just thinks you’re cute. Or he’s jealous because you have ice cream and he doesn’t.”

“We could always ask him,” she suggests. “About why he’s staring at us.”

“Or we could just mind our own business and eat our ice cream. We don’t want it to melt, do we?” he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her a little closer and a little tighter to his side. 

***

The chime above the door sounds as it swings open and Ovi watches as Tyler and the boys enter; the twins being maneuvered over the threshold with a large, strong hand gripping the back of their shirts, effectively steering them in the right direction. Both have mohawks now; one with frosted green tips, the other blue, and Ovi grins at the sight of Tyler’s own new look. Or was it in an old look? Newish oldish perhaps? The same cut he’d sported when they first five years ago. He remembers how he’d been intrigued by it; no one at school would dare have their hair cut like that and there was no way his own father or any of those paid to watch him would have ever allowed him to get it done.

He also notices it’s a bad knee day. That limp a little more prominent than usual.

“Over here boys,” he says to his sons, and with a gentle push with his thighs sends them the right way.

Ovi clears his throat noisily, making it a point to catch Tyler’s attention. And when their eyes lock, he makes a small nod in the direction of the man sitting at the counter.  Pretending to be immersed in his paper as the cashier refills his coffee mug.  Through the lenses of his sunglasses, Tyler’s able to check him out without even being noticed, and Ovi sees the way his head barely moves as he gives the stranger a once over; his brow slightly furrowed, lips set in a thin line.

“Hi daddy!” Millie cheerfully greets as he approaches the table, and Ovi notices how the stranger finally looks up; no expression on his face as he eyes Tyler from head to toe. “What’s up with your hair?”

“Most of it’s gone. Why? You don’t like it?”

She frowns. “It’s kinda weird.”

“Blame your mother. She likes it like this. Get in,” he instructs his sons, and helps each of them by grabbing the back of their shorts and lifting them onto the bench.

“Nice hair cuts boys,” Ovi enthuses, and he gets high fives from each of them. “Very cool. What’s up with the colour though?”

“My wife’s going to kill me,” Tyler laments, and then heads off to purchase ice cream for the twins. Ovi notices yet again that the man at the counter watches him intently; brows arching as he takes in the tall, powerful frame.

Impressed, maybe? A little intimidated? Even now Ovi himself found it hard not to be. When you’re that tall and you’re back and shoulders are that broad and your muscles are that big, you tend to draw attention to yourself. Mostly it was from women. Ovi noticed that a lot. The females like Tyler’s big muscles and his blue eyes.

Tyler slides into the seat across from him, removing his sunglasses, placing them on the tabletop and then getting the twins settled with their ice cream.  He’s a good dad.  Ovi has always thought so. He’s a gentler version of himself when he’s in ‘dad mode’; his features softening, his voice not as gruff.  Calm and patient.  

“What’s up with that guy?” he asks, jerking his head in the direction of the counter.

“He’s been staring at us,” Millie answers for Ovi, as she ducks under the table, crawls to the other side and then resurfaces and climbs onto her dad’s lap.  “It’s creepy.”

“Maybe he just thinks you’re cute,” her father reasons. “Or he wants your ice cream.”

“That’s what Ovi said. Hey!” she flashes a dramatic pout when he helps himself to some of her treat.

“He’s just been sitting there,” Ovi says. “He was here before we got here.”

“What’s he be doing?”

“Sitting. Reading the paper. Drinking coffee.”

“And watching us,” Millie pipes up. “Super creepy. I don’t like creepers.”

Tyler chuckles at the use of the word ‘creepers’, and running a palm over her hair, drops a kiss on the top of her head.  “You definitely are your mother’s daughter.”

“You ever seen him before?” Ovi asks. Tyler’s in town more than he is; always at the hardware store picking things up for his side business.

“Don’t think so. I think I’d remember a face like that. Definitely doesn’t fit in around here.” But then again, neither did he really. With the accent and the tattoos and the scars. And now the haircut.

“People are weird,” Tanner chimes in.  He’s the observant one out of the two boys; the kind that sits back and quietly takes in a situation or an environment, brain coming up with different scenarios and outcomes. Wise and intelligent beyond his years.

“You’re one to talk with that haircut,” his father teases, and nudges him playfully with his elbow. “You realize your mother is going to seriously hurt me, yeah? She’s not going to be happy at all. Think it’s worth it? Think it’s worth me having to sleep on the couch for the rest of my life?”

His son nods enthusiastically.

“That’s it. Throw me under the bus. Now I remember why your brother is my favourite,” he’s teasing of course, and reaches across the bench to gently and playfully pinch his name sake just below the ribs.

Ovi notices just how much they all actually do like alike.  The same facial features: blue eyes framed by impossibly long and dark lashes, almost the exact same colour and texture of hair, the same noses and ears. Even the same smiles and mannerisms.  The way they will each smirk and cock their heads to the side when they’re sensing someone else’s bullshit.  

There are definitely some extremely strong genes on Tyler’s side of the family.

“He’s coming this way,” Ovi whispers, as the stranger slides off his stool, and folds his newspaper and puts it under his arm before carrying his empty cup to the cash register.

He’s average height and has a stocky build. Nothing remarkable about him at all save for the arms full of tattoos.

Tyler casually watches him; legs stretched out under the table, an arm across the back of the booth.   If he senses something is up, Ovi can’t tell for sure.  There’s no darkness to his eyes or furrows across his brow.

The other man turns towards them now, briefly pausing at the side of their table as he looks down at Tyler, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Can I help you, mate?” Tyler asks. Calm. Cool. Collected.  It was a trait that Ovi admired; the ability to stare someone down yet remain completely relaxed and expressionless.

“Just admiring your family. I’ve got a few kids of my own back home. Just made me miss them seeing you all together.”

“Where’s back home?”

“Chicago.”

“You’re a long way from home.”

“I could say the same about you. Accent and all.”

Tyler nods slowly. “Here for business or…?”

Ovi enjoys watching the process. The way the questions come so easily and never seem prodding or invasive. Tyler’s expression and tone never wavering.

“You could say that. What brought you here?”

“The wife’s from Colorado. Decided to move here when we started having kids.”

“Definitely a nice place to be. Well you all take care. Enjoy your family.  Kids are a special gift. Don’t take it for granted.”

Tyler nods, then casts a casual glance over his shoulder, watching as the man heads through the shop and out the front door.

“Anything?” Ovi asks expectantly.  “Feels weird, right?”

“Felt like it’s just a guy away from home and missing his family. I’ve been there. I know what it’s like. He probably just wanted someone to talk to.”

“But the way he was watching us. The way he was watching Millie…”

“Maybe he has a little girl of his own and she reminds him of her.”

“So you felt nothing? You didn’t feel like there’s something weird? Something’s going on?”

Tyler smirks. “Not every strange person is out to get us, mate. Sometimes people are just weird. Or lonely.  Sometimes they just want someone to talk to and don’t know how to go about it. Remember how you felt when you first moved here? How different it was and you didn’t have any friends? It’s like that. But a hundred times worse. A guy’s thousands of miles from home, missing his wife, missing his kids, maybe having a shit day. So he wants to reach out to someone.”

“So you really felt nothing? Nothing at all?”

“Just a normal guy missing his family, kid. That’s all.  Thought you were getting a handle on this. The paranoia. It’s been five years. If someone from back home was after you, they’d have found you by now.”

“You don’t worry? About people from your past coming to find you?”

“If I just my entire time worrying about stuff like that, I’d never leave the house. And let’s not get too into it, yeah?” he nods down at Millie and then over at the twins. “Little ears and all.”

He likes to keep things on the downlow as far as the kids are concerned. They’re young and vulnerable. Impressionable. And telling them that their dad helps people is one thing, but telling them that he sometimes has to hurt and even kill people to do it, is a different beast all on its own.

“Does chocolate milk come from brown cows?” TJ suddenly asks, effectively breaking the mood.

“Excuse me?” his father laughs. “What?”

“Well if the white milk comes from the black and white cows, where does the chocolate milk come from?” his son continues. “Brown cows, right?”

“That’s not how it works,” Tyler chuckles. “That’s not how any of that works. It comes from putting chocolate in white milk.”

“What about the grass?” Tanner’s turn now. “How come the grass is green and the sky is blue?”

“That’s a simple one,” Tyler says.  “If the sky was green like the grass, you wouldn’t know where to stop mowing.”

Ovi can’t help but laugh at that. The way it is said with the utmost seriousness and how the kids are now both in awe that their dad knew that and thinking he’s apparently the smartest man on the planet.  He’s able to relax again. Calmed by the fact that he’s with his people.

His family.

[nehswritesstuffs]

What’s your opinion on PE? Are the avatars just ironic or ....?

THIS IS A DANNY PINK APPRECIATION BLOG AND I’M GLAD YOU MENTIONED IT BECAUSE I REALLY CAN’T SAY IT OFTEN ENOUGH.

I mean, look at that sweet, pure af cinnamon roll.

Okay, real talk: Danny Pink gets a major raw fucking deal in the show and in fandom. Since DWns8 was basically “Clara the Polyandrist, the Family Television Show”, one of the major points of friction between Clara and the Doctor is the fact that Danny is her boyfriend--no doubt about it--while the Doctor, although he doesn’t admit to it, functions as a boyfriend/husband. It’s all based on a lot of misunderstandings, culminating in the special Last Christmas where they had to spell it out for one another that they were still in love and Danny’s death made it so that they were the only two in the triangle left. The “I’m not your boyfriend” in Deep Breath was pretty much a “but I’m ready to be your husband” in the Doctor’s roundabout way, though combined with the face value and the fact that he accidentally left Clara in Glasgow, it’s easy to figure out why she thought that facet of their relationship was now over.

Then enter Danny Pink. He is pretty much the ultimate human boyfriend. Sweet, sensitive, very accommodating, great with kids, a former soldier (to not only parallel with the Doctor but also probably appease a certain fraction of viewership), and is played by Samuel Anderson, who is the dishiest man they could have possibly gotten... he has it all. His character is designed to be a force so inoffensive and darling that you can’t help but feel sorry for him accidentally stumbling into a relationship with a woman who has an intergalactic sidepiece. He doesn’t even get upset with Clara when he figures out what the Doctor is and what he means to her--he just wants her to be honest. Like, that’s it. Clara was the one who figured she needed to choose one or the other despite the fact she had already made her choice... it was both. Under normal, real-life circumstances, I would expect her to need to choose between one or the other given social morays and such, but we’re in a hella soft-scifi where the rules of normal society don’t necessarily apply as stringently as in other shows. There was no choice to be made. No fighting. No problem.

However, instead of a fan-darling (a position oft held by much lesser characters), Danny became a point of contention. Fans derided him for being too bland (uh, he wasn’t the Doctor, duh), certain Whouffaldi shippers hated him for getting in the way of their ship (which he clearly didn’t, at least not personally), and there was this weird faction that also decided somehow that he was an abusive and manipulative boyfriend...??? I mean... how...??? Did we watch the same show??? I know that I might have projected a wee bit onto the character, but I’m pretty sure it was no less than I did with any other character. There were even people who were happy that he died. Happy. It baffles me even five years after the fact, because to me it’s nearly incomprehensible that someone would enjoy the show and yet hate him.**

That being said, I’ve made an effort to enforce Danny Pink related positivity here on my tumblr and in my fics. My tag for him here on tumblr and the filter over on AO3 are good places to start, but there are even more things that don’t feature him, yet pay respect to his place in Clara’s life.**** There’s even some stuff I’m in the process of developing that feature him prominently, because why the frick not. I love Twelve and Clara being together, I love the Whouffaldi ship more than I can express, yet I wholeheartedly enjoy carving a place out for Danny, a.k.a: Clara’s Earth Boyfriend. The fact I still feel the need to long-windedly defend him all this time later is kind of an aftereffect of how bad it was during ns8, because people were nastily rude and still are. I still have people blocked for posting garbage opinions (like that he deserved to die, was an ass, etc), so yeah, I’m in it for the long haul.

So, tl;dr: Danny is lovely and my use of him as my icon is by no means ironic or sarcastic or anything of the sort. He is baby, as the kids say, and needs to be protected at all costs. Let us fight the good fight together.

**The only things I can think of that would possibly be working against Danny’s favor are 1) the fact he’s not the Doctor and the audience is used to “rooting for” him; 2) people enjoying shitting on Moffat’s run for stupid reasons; 3) people enjoying shitting on Capaldi’s run for stupid reasons; 4) racism, latent/internalized or overt/obvious, regarding the casting choice of Samuel, which is very stupid but this is also a show from the same country providing us with Br*xit drama driven by mostly, though not exclusively, a ton of xenophobia, racism, and misplaced nostalgia for a time that you can’t get without including imperialism/colonialism; and 5) people are garbage and give about as many shits about Danny as Rose gave about Mickey, which was none (which is also a thing I have a big problem with, but whatever).

****A good example is the fic The Seal Man of North Ronaldsay [FFN]/[AO3], where the entire plot of the story is kickstarted by his death and is about Clara learning that she can respectfully move on. Danny also plays a major role in The March of Kasterborous and Gallifrey [FFN]/[AO3], where his and Clara’s forbidden relationship also kickstarts the plot and evolves from there.