#I’d not win in a battle of fists but I could in a battle of wits

[bonebrokebuddy]

The inherent homophobia of a 2010s cartoon male protagonist <3

[slasherscream]

I love your writing! And you just get my craziness and character obsessions. I was thinking what would happen if reader had a bruise cheek or lip, and refuse to tell them what happen. Then they discover that the reader was the one who beat the shit out of someone for saying something about their partner, and how proud yet pissed off they will be. I’m think Crazy Ass Girls Gang, need more possessive and protective FMC. Thank you!

warnings: yandere behavior - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Tiffany Valentine - Tricks you into thinking she’s gonna be normal about it. She purses her lips when you won’t tell her anything, but quietly rushes off to get the first-aid kit. WATCH OUT! You have just activated a trap card: emotional manipulation. Her most powerful weapon. She’ll silently and dotingly take care of you. Disinfectant. Gentle Hands. Careful bandaging. Petulant silence. Painkillers lovingly dropped in your hand. Big sad eyes staring up at you. When you inevitably break and tell her what happened she could melt! She does melt, straight into your arms. You’re gonna be covered in lipstick by the time she’s through with you. Her hero. Don’t worry, she’ll help you clean up… eventually. Later, you’ll have to help her clean up too. It was so romantic of you to fight for her honor…. But she'd never let someone live after they hurt you, silly.

Jordan Li - Won’t drop the line of questioning until you’re damn near ready to fight her too. She hates that you’re hurt. She loves that you wanted to defend her. Jordan gets a lot of criticism, sometimes it seems never ending. The fact that you feel so strongly about protecting her, not because you think she can’t fight her own battles… but because she shouldn’t have to do it all alone? It means a lot. Still, she doesn’t want you getting into fights. Let alone fights over her. It doesn’t matter how badly you hurt the other person. If there are marks on you Jordan is going to go find them for round two. “You like to put hands on people?” Words spoken seconds before disaster (she’s ignoring the fact that you started the fight. Jordan could give a shit about semantics.)

Nancy Downs - Don’t wanna tell her? Cool! Get ready to experience her favorite couple’s activity besides shoplifting: abusing your coven bond to read your mind! Hooray! It will hurt badly. Because Nancy always makes it hurt when you keep her out on purpose, or hide things from her (or when she thinks you’re doing that.) But don’t worry, after she realizes how sweet you really were, she’ll make you feel all better. Cooing over you as much as she ever allows herself to coo. Cleaning your cuts. Healing you with her magic. Trying to ease the fever that always comes whenever she uses your bond in a way she shouldn’t. She thinks you’re the stupidest, sweetest thing. You’re witches. You don’t have to use your fists anymore to win fights. She leaves you with the coven and goes to enact a witch’s vengeance on whoever dared to lay a finger on you. 

Jennifer Check - You’ll try not to tell her but she immediately starts making such wild accusations you have to just come out and admit to why you’re injured. “I can smell someone on you. If you wanted to get beat up to get your rocks off you should’ve just told me, I’d happily beat the shit out of you.” Start talking quickly! She looks like she’s about to start fulfilling that nonexistent wish now. Once you tell her she has to suppress a smile. She’s a demon. She doesn’t need you playing knight in shining armor over what some jealous, mouth-breathing, loser is saying about her… but, it’s kinda hot that you did. She’ll show you just how hot she thinks it is. Then you two are gonna take a nice little drive, and you’re gonna point out the jackass who put bruises on you. She’ll fuck you again after she’s full. “Thanks for finding my next meal, baby.” 

Victoria Neuman - Victoria expects you to have better self control than this. Not telling her what happened isn’t an option. Ever. The look on her face when you first try and insist that nothing happened is enough for you to quietly admit you got into a fight. Her blood pressure sky-rockets. You two have an image to maintain. You’re her spouse. She has enough problems as it is. She’s thinking of viral videos, nightly news, seedy gossip magazines doing think-pieces: do we really want this person standing behind the president as first spouse? When you tell her you fought one of the Boys for trying to convince you she’s a monster? Well…. She goes a little softer. Victoria will pull you into the circle of her arms and thank you for being so loyal to her. She means it from the bottom of her heart. She’s also dreaming of the day she can pop their fucking heads. Touching you. Talking to you. Trying to turn you against her… they’ve crossed her last line. 

Carrie White - The moment she sees you she’s in hysterics: “Oh, Angel, what happened?!” You’re really gonna sit there and not tell her anything? She’s worked herself into an anxiety attack within seconds. She can hardly open the first aid kit, she’s shaking so bad. The sound of your voice is always so soothing for her that you’ll start telling her the story just to have something to say. She listens quietly while she cleans you up. You’ll have to pull her into your lap before long, and kiss her gently. You’re all she has in the world and it scares her to death to think of you putting yourself in unnecessary danger. You’ll fall asleep curled into each other’s arms. You whisper soft reassurances: “Nothing’s gonna happen to me / I’ll always be here.” Carrie tries her best to listen. You’ll wake up alone, but wander downstairs just as Carrie walks through the front door. She wanted to get her knight in shining armor some breakfast from your favorite diner down the street. She watches you eat with a big smile, and thinks about how she’ll have to burn those clothes in the trunk of the car. She couldn't risk them trying to hurt you again.

Ginger Fitzgerald - Don’t piss her off. If you don’t tell her exactly who touched you she’ll rip the entire city apart. Women, children, men, everyone. Anyone. “Do you want me to do that? Huh, baby? Is that what you want me to do?” No? Then start talking. She won’t be able to see through the blood-lust long enough to take care of you. As soon as you say a name Ginger’s out the door. She’ll only return once she’s thoroughly covered in viscera and gore. She’s still dripping with it when she crawls into bed with you, smearing the blood across your body. She’ll lick at any injury you have, until they’re clean and closed, your skin smooth and unblemished. She’s the only thing that can leave marks on you. She’ll kill anything else that tries. “You don’t have to lift a finger for me, baby. If you want someone hurt, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you.” Just run your fingers through her hair and try not to cringe as your fingertips get stained red. 

Patricia (Split) - She’s devastated by the state you come home in after she allows you to go out on a walk all by yourself for the first time since you were…. taken. You’d been so good for her. So obedient. So sweet. She wanted to reward you. And now your eye is starting to bruise, and your clothes are all askew, and your knuckles are swollen. Her calm demeanor cracks, and it’s a struggle to stay in the light. She takes deep breaths, centers herself. None of the others are what you need, right now. You need her. She strips you down, runs you a bath, won’t even let you hold the washcloth. It’s only as she’s patting you dry that she can force out words, finally: “What happened to you, sweet thing, hmm?” The guilt nearly brings her to tears. Months of keeping you close and look at what just a pinch of negligence has done to you… You try to assuage her guilt. You tell her you ran into a neighbor, who’d seen the two of you out together once Patricia trusted you enough to accompany her for little things like grocery trips. You say it’s your fault you came back to her in this condition. That you just couldn’t stand the vile things they said about her. Her face drops into an expression you’ve never seen. It’s gone in an instant, replaced by that comforting, ever present smile she wears for you. She takes you by the chin and kisses your forehead: “My little sweet thing. Playing knight, are you?” You had her love before. Tentatively, you had something like trust. Now Patricia trusts you completely. Even so, you won’t be going out alone again. Patricia trusts you. But it’s clear she can’t trust the world to be gentle with you. Don’t worry, though. All you need to do is ask, when you want to feel the sun on your face. You never see that neighbor again, no matter what time of day you and Patricia go walking.

A/N: thank you!!! we need more batshit crazy women with something wrong with them! Batshit crazy women with something wrong with them unite! if you enjoyed these headcanons consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writer's fuel is engagement. Xoxoxo

[cobaltperun]

Lost - Born for this

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 4.3k

Story Masterlist / Next part

-They just don't get it, I think they forget, I'm not done till I'm on top-

A fist collided with your forearm as you took a step back, mitigating the effects of the impact. The muscular woman in front of you had blood dripping from her lower lip, and a swelling around her left eye, but she still wasn’t giving up as she pushed on toward you. You lowered your guard, baiting her into growing more confident, only to pull her into a clinch and land two ferocious uppercuts right to her head. She pulled away from you, drops of blood from her nose falling between you in the process.

It was only a matter of time before you’d win. A good hit would end the battle, continuing your streak of victories.

Sometimes it felt wrong, seeing how much you sacrificed for this, but you found peace in a battle, you found the cure to your heart in violence, in the physical pain and fight that would make you feel more adrenaline than anything ever could or would. You felt lost, a lone fighter going up against life itself, left without anyone you could turn to if you lost. No, that wasn’t quite right. She just… wasn’t as present in your life anymore, she couldn’t handle seeing you after your fights, and one thing led to another. So, the only place that didn’t make you feel lost or trapped was, ironically, a cage. Somehow, that felt fitting. The only right thing in your life at the moment were these MMA fights and this was the biggest one of your life so far. The loud cheering of the crowd? Merely a background noise. The taste of blood in your mouth? Just another reason for the adrenaline pumping through your body. The pain you were currently feeling? Both from the exhaustion and the hits you took? That just made your body release endorphins. The opponent in front of you? Soon to be defeated.

A flurry of punches made the already exhausted woman step back enough for you to do a quick 540 degree kick, pushing her against the cage and making her knees nearly buckle. A feint ended the battle as you pretended to aim for a liver shot, she lowered her arms to block and realized too late that you pulled your fist back and spun around. You landed a spinning back kick to her side and she dropped down, unconscious. The beating of your heart slowed down as you took deep breaths. You took a moment to wipe off the drops of sweat and a bit of blood from your forehead, to come back to reality and come back down from the high of the battle as the adrenaline began slowly fading away. The cheers of your name were no longer background noise, you were no longer the underdog, you just won your second local title, proving the first one wasn’t a fluke. You could finally enter the next stage! Take on the world’s greatest female MMA fighters! The euphoria caused by the success was a fleeting thought, a steppingstone. The desire to keep pushing harder, to get stronger and better already settling in along with the anticipation of the next fight.

A reporter came up to you while you were still in the cage, with the belt hanging from your shoulder, and an easy-going confident grin on your face you had to admit you did look good.

“Another KO! Another undeniable victory! How does it feel?” the reporter, a woman that has been following your career almost from the start, seeing the potential in you, greeted you.

You offered her a smile, filled with appreciation for her support. “Amazing, I’d love to say the fight could have gone either way, but I can’t be stopped,” for a moment you turned to the crowd around the cage. “Isn’t that right?!” you raised your arms up, putting on a bit of a show. Trash talking and overconfidence was part of the job, it generated hype, and earned you money. Respect for the opponent was for the behind the cameras.

And the crowd cheered and booed, almost in equal numbers, some wanting to see you keep going, some wanting to see you fall, as long as they came to watch it hardly mattered, especially since living in Woodsboro meant you didn’t have to deal with either group that often.

“And what’s next for the Woodsboro’s upstart fighter, Y/N L/N?” the reporter asked over the yells of the crows.

“The world, of course! Sooner, rather than later I’ll come for the title!” you promised, not exaggerating one bit, that was your goal, the purpose, the reason to keep fighting. You would become the world champion.

“Your target is Anya Golubeva, is what I’m hearing. It’ll be a tough road, but you’ve never been stopped before,” the reporter encouraged you to keep going.

You smirked, knowing full well the current world champion, Anya Golubeva, was a fight that was still far away, and that she might not even have the title by the time you get to challenge her. “Sure, it’s about time someone takes the title from her!”

You kept chatting for another minute or two before saying goodbye and leaving the arena. Your coach, pleased by your victory, was right by your side, waving to the crowd and enjoying the attention much more than you did now that the theatrics were over.

“You’re going right back to Woodsboro?” he asked you as you walked through the nearly empty, dimly lit halls, your footsteps echoing all around you.

“Yeah, I’d rather be there right now,” you said as the two of you stopped by the doors of the locker room. “I’ll see you next week and we can go over this fight and potential opponents for the next one,” you patted him on the arm, really wanting to just take a quick shower and get in your car as soon as possible. The drive back to Woodsboro would take almost two hours, so the sooner you left the building, the sooner you’d go back home.

“Of course, you were great tonight! Keep doing what you do the best and we’ll be at the top of the world!” he was happy, much more excited than you were, and you couldn’t blame him. At least someone was appropriately happy with the success you were having. And it wasn’t that you weren’t happy, but considering you pretty much ruined your chances with Tara by choosing MMA, this wasn’t enough to make it worth it.

You doubted even the world title would be worth that, but those were the thoughts for the darker moments. When you were all alone, in the darkness of your apartment, unable to sleep and replaying the moment you lost her in your head.

~X~

The moment you got in your car you felt a sense of clarity, you no longer felt the high of the battle, just the sense of calm and peace. The drive back to Woodsboro was fun, driving was always fun, well, aside from the times when you’d get stuck in traffic, but that was beside the point. Driving was fun, but driving also meant not answering the phone that kept ringing as if your friends didn’t know you by now. The Babadook theme suddenly caught your attention, and you figured you could stop to fill up the gas tank, so, roughly a mile down the road you stopped and pulled out your phone and returned the most recent call.

You noticed it was a bit cold as you stepped out of your car, and you had to admit, the road to Woodsboro, surrounded by tall trees was a bit spooky this late at night. A few seconds later Chad’s voice came from the other side. “How come you don’t answer any of us? Hmm Champ?”

“Tara has a different ringtone,” you shrugged as you began filling the gas tank. Given how late it was, and that you were already relatively close to Woodsboro your car was the only one at the small gas station.

“Not fair, Y/N,” you could hear the pouting in his voice.

That made you smirk, as if you wanted to be fair when it came to Tara. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you weren’t even sure he heard you as there was a sudden commotion wherever he was. Probably at his and Mindy’s house. While your friends were deciding on who was getting the phone you wondered why you didn’t put on your jacket, because the chill night air and a bit of wind blowing in your face wasn’t exactly fun at the moment. Oh well, this wouldn’t take long, even if the short-sleeved polo shirt would get a weird look from the cashiers.

A few moments later the commotion settled down. “Hey, how did it go?” hearing her voice felt so damn good, especially since you didn't get to hear it that often lately. Tara’s question made you smile. She didn’t watch your matches, but you knew she heard how the match ended from Chad. She wasn’t asking about the match though.

“Let’s see, my lower lip got busted, but it’s really not that bad, other than that there’s nothing out of the ordinary, I’ll have bruises for a couple of days, and I’ll be sore but it’s the regular outcome,” if it was anyone else asking, you’d probably be annoyed, but it was Tara and you missed her. And even if you didn’t miss her, well Tara was Tara, you could never get annoyed because of her.

You could hear a sigh. A sign of disapproval and reluctant acceptance that telling you to stop fighting would only be a waste of her breath. You couldn't stop. You plain and simple couldn't. Not ever for Tara. There was something bigger than simple fighting here, you had an obligation to fulfil, even if deep down you desperately hoped it would be worth it in the end. “Could you pick me up? I’m at Chad and Mindy’s house.”

The question caught you by surprise, she hadn’t asked you to pick her up since two months ago. “Yeah, of course,” you glanced down at the watch. “I’ll pick you up in half an hour?”

“Great! Drive safe okay?” the excitement in her voice made you shiver, and not from the wind, in fact, you barely felt the wind or the cold at all.

“Always, Tara,” you reassured her, fully aware of how much softer your voice got when you said that, as well as how her breath hitched when she heard you. “I’ll be there soon,” you hung up, went inside the gas station to pay, and grabbed a kiwi fruit bar as well as a bottle of water. You paid and were back on your way to Woodsboro.

~X~

“A special ringtone? Seriously?” Chad teasingly accused the moment Tara hung up, even though she was still under the effects of your voice softening like that. Ever since four months ago you rarely spoke that softly to her, and she missed it. She missed the warmth, the gentleness, andit was all because you were respecting her decision.

Tara just shrugged, leaning back into the pillows behind her to appear even smaller, suddenly she found the snacks in front of her to be the most interesting thing in the room. She was just glad she remembered to put her phone on silent when you called back. It was a bit of an unspoken promise between you two, you had the theme from the Babadook as your ringtone when she called and she had a song from your favorite show (movie) as her ringtone when you called her. You didn’t even discuss it really, you just misplaced your phone one night and she called you and heard the theme, prompting questions from her since you did not like the Babadook enough to make it your ringtone. Even she didn’t have that theme as her ringtone! Sometimes she felt like she wasn’t fair to Amber, but you were you! You have been her best friend since she was almost ten, since that day in the rain.

You’ve been her, everything really, her best friend, her protector even when Sam was still in Woodsboro, her first love, but not her first kiss. When Tara thought of being loved, she thought of you, of being held in your arms. But you didn’t love her back. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. You didn’t love her back enough. You chose your career. You chose to be an MMA fighter and Tara couldn’t handle that. The idea of watching you get hurt, or waiting for you to come home with fresh bruises stopped her from telling you how she felt. It was one of the reasons she accepted and, to the best of her abilities, reciprocated Amber’s feeling.

“Forget the ringtone! She’s picking you up,” Mindy had the guts to give her a knowing look as if she actually knew anything. She had the guts to be giddy with excitement over something that no longer mattered.

“Good thing Amber couldn’t make it,” Liv’s taunt soured Tara’s mood instantly. “Shit, sorry,” and she noticed it immediately.

Tara smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s okay,” even if Tara loved you there was nothing but friendship between the two of you and if Amber was going to be unreasonably jealous that was her issue. Not Tara’s. She already compromised enough, she could spend a bit of time with you. She promised herself it would only be the ride to her place and maybe chatting for a bit, not for too long, since you needed your rest, but just for a bit. The thought made the smile reach her eyes. The smile vanished when a message from Amber caught her attention.

~X~

Chad and Mindy’s house wasn’t far from Tara’s. It was definitely within walking distance, but given how late it was, and that it was getting colder, getting a ride wasn’t unreasonable. Not that it mattered, you didn’t need a reason to spend time with Tara. You stepped out of your car, a comfortable car, not exactly built for speed, or off-road driving, it was perfect for you though.

“Champ!” Chad was the first to tackle you into a hug as you approached his and Mindy’s house.

“Hey buddy, take it easy, I got hit there,” you half-joked as you patted him on the back.

“Where?” the teasing grin on his face told you everything.

“Everywhere, you jerk, I was in a fight,” you laughed, stepping away from him. A brief hug from Mindy and a high-five from Liv wrapped up the greetings and congratulations.

“We saw, even Tara saw,” Liv pointed out as the four of you entered the house.

“Nice,” that’s when the meaning of her words finally hit you and you stopped. “Wait, what?” your jaw dropped as you turned back to stare at Mindy.

“Technically she was peeking through her fingers, but she saw the fight,” Mindy explained with that knowing smirk on her face. You glanced through the doors, watching as Tara was getting ready. She had her back turned to you, and you knew you were staring, but you couldn’t take your eyes off her. She actually watched your fight. “Come on you two, let’s take our place as the lovable side characters,” Mindy’s teasing was never going to end, not even now that Tara was with Amber. You just flipped her off, still watching Tara as she placed her inhaler and phone in her bag. You frowned at that. Did she need her inhaler? During your fight or after it? When you turned to look at Mindy and Chad they seemed to lose interest in you and Liv wasn’t much better as she pretended to admire a picture hanging on the wall. Sighing, you went into the living room just as Tara turned around.

Her face lit up and she jumped into your arms, letting you lift her up. “You okay?” you asked as she looked down at you. Her left hand rested on your shoulder as her right hand slipped behind your neck. The warmth of Chad and Mindy’s house was nothing to the warmth of her body in your arms.

“I am, don’t worry about it,” the softness of her voice, the adoration in her eyes, the gentle way she checked the cut on your lower lip, you took it all in, because it’s been too long since you and Tara were this close. For reasons you were almost sure had everything to do with Amber, you and Tara grew distant a month into their relationship. Spare inhaler Tara kept at your place? Amber had it now. Movie nights? Once a month if you got lucky, as opposed to at least twice a week before her relationship with Amber. Tara almost randomly appearing to hang out either at the gym or at your work? That seldom happened over the past three months. So, you figured you could be forgiven for wanting to hold your best friend just a bit tighter and longer than you did before she told you she and Amber got together. You could be forgiven because despite what you felt this was how you were as friends long before you figured out you had feelings for Tara. You could be forgiven because you would never do anything that would affect Tara’s happiness.

“Okay, I’m here if you need to talk,” you assured her softly.

Tara’s smile grew wider. “I know, Y/N,” you could see the reluctance in her eyes as she dropped her left hand from your shoulder and lightly squeezed your biceps, a silent sign that told you to let her down. You did and now the height difference of roughly eight and a half inches emphasized how adorably tiny Tara was compared to you. “By the way, a tiny change of the plans, could you take me to Amber’s house?”

“Sure,” you missed your chance, well, that would imply you had one. Well, you would have had a chance if you didn’t choose to fight. So, you decided there wasn’t a chance to begin with. The drive to Amber’s house was filled with deafening silence broken only by the occasional buzzing of Tara’s phone, filled with unspoken words, and filled with a sense of tension you hated.

As you waited for the traffic light to turn green you realized you haven’t given Tara the fruit bar you bought, so you reached for the fruit bar resting next to the water bottle in your cup holder and silently handed it to her.

“Oh,” you guessed she was surprised, but seeing as the lights turned green you couldn’t look at her. You could only feel the brush of her fingers as she accepted the snack. “Thank you,” she said, causing you to smile.

“Always, T,” your smile widened when you heard a muffled moan of appreciation at the taste of the fruit bar. She always loved kiwi, so you made it a bit of a habit to get her something with kiwi every now and then.

A few minutes later you parked in front of Amber’s house and Tara stepped out to greet Amber, the girl was already waiting by the road. They didn’t kiss though, because Tara pulled away before Amber could do that. For some reason, you had an awful feeling you should say something to Tara. It was a familiar feeling, one you normally got when you realized you were about to get hit but couldn’t do anything but brace for it.

Tara leaned through the window of your passenger seat and reached out for your hand. "Thanks, Y/N," there was that smile again.

"Don't mention it," you gently squeezed her hand as the silence turned from uncomfortable to pleasant and you just looked her in the eyes. Just for a moment, you didn't feel lost, you felt exactly how you felt before she got together with Amber.

A cough made Tara pull back and take a few steps back, choosing to stand next to Amber. “Good night,” Tara waved at you.

“Sweet dreams,” you forced out and drove away, the feeling of being lost came back, right along with that awful feeling that filled you with anxiety.

That night, the only reason you managed to fall asleep was the exhaustion in your body, and as the date changed from 22nd to 23rd you were plagued by nightmares you neither remembered nor could explain.

~X~

The moment Tara followed Amber inside she regretted not going home. Or to your place. She regretted it as she sat down in Amber’s living room, with her arms crossed and Amber clearly fuming. It was a familiar scene, a slasher horror movie playing on the TV to fill the silence, the dinner plate with a few crumbs on it, a half-drunk cup of milk, the usual scene for Amber’s living room when there wasn’t a party of some kind going on. “Amber, Y/N is my best friend!” Tara argued, hoping to prevent the argument before it even started.

Amber laughed, almost maniacally, at that. “Yeah, a friend! You never look at me like that!” she accused, already yelling.

“Yes, a friend, you know there’s nothing between us,” and she didn’t look at you ‘like that’. She knew exactly what look Amber was talking about, the longing look, filled with all her love and desire for you. She didn’t look at you like that since her and Amber got together. She drew a definitive line there; she would never make Amber feel insecure about their relationship. Tara made her choice, you made sure it wasn’t you, that was the end of it. You were her best friend, but Amber was a close second and Amber loved her the way you wouldn’t…

Amber slammed her palm on the table. “But you want to!” she screamed, her eyes wild and filled with jealousy.

Tara didn’t back away, she didn’t flinch, she just tried her best to keep her breathing under control without using her pump. Amber was angry, but Amber would never hurt her. Even if she tried Tara was confident she could get away. “I wanted to, and you’ve always known that! But that’s the point, I wanted to! I don’t want to anymore! I’m with you now!” she yelled back, tired of this argument happening again and again.

Amber took a deep breath, finally calming down, and that was all Tara wanted, she just wanted her girlfriend to remain calm. “I’m sorry, Baby, I just… You know how I get when I see Y/N,” Tara knew, she knew and that was why she accepted to create some distance between the two of you.

It got out of control by now, it wasn’t supposed to be this drastic, but Tara craved the love Amber was giving her, and she had learnt a long time ago that if people loved her, they expected something from her. Her dad wanted a healthy daughter, she wasn’t that, she was sickly and weak and needed to be cared for. So, he left. Sam was the same, Tara couldn’t be the little sister Sam wanted. Sam couldn’t be a normal teenager with Tara around, so Sam distanced herself and then abandoned Tara almost the first chance she got. Her mother was the same, because Tara was the one who tore their family apart. Because Tara clung too hard. Because Tara wasn’t good enough.

Amber was the same, Amber needed a girlfriend that wouldn’t choose you instead of her, Amber needed Tara to choose her instead of you, so Tara did that. That was the cost of Amber’s love. And Tara would pay it. And Amber knew it.

“I know, Amber, I just miss my best friend sometimes,” Tara sighed, a tiny voice in her head telling her you’d never make her choose, that you never once wanted anything more than what Tara had to offer to you. If there was anyone who loved Tara for who she was, without expectations, conditions, costs, or abandonment, it was you.

But you’d never love her the way Tara loved you. Why else would you let her get together with Amber? Why else would you accept the distance? You wouldn’t have done that if you loved Tara back. You fought for a living, so why couldn’t you fight for her?

“Y/N will abandon you Tara, sooner or later. She’s no longer your guard dog. The moment an opportunity for her career comes around, she’ll abandon you. I won’t, I’d never abandon you,” and as Amber sat down on Tara’s lap, Tara found it difficult to argue, especially since you kept winning, and with every win you’d be closer and closer to your goal. You’d leave Woodsboro eventually, searching for a better life, and Tara would be left here, unable to follow.

That same voice in the back of her head, the one that constantly told her to go to you, told her Amber was wrong. Distance made it difficult to argue. Distance made it easier for Amber to convince her this was the truth. In hindsight It almost would have been enough, but then you took hold of her and all of Amber’s efforts were immediately wasted. You nearly took hold of her one day too late, though, but even then, even as she was bleeding out on her kitchen floor, her leg broken, desperately crying out in pain and fear of the one who attacked her so brutally, she still only thought of two people as she barely clung to life. One was Sam. The other? You.

A/N: So, Y/N is an MMA fighter, honestly, I just want the reader to be reasonably capable of kicking Ghostface’s ass, so yeah, the reader is a badass.

Story Masterlist / Next part

[syoddeye]

the lift

gaz x f!reader | 1.4k words cw: alcohol a/n: received a powerlifter x kyle prompt from an anon. i don't normally take requests, but i've been itching to write something sweet for him. influenced by a recent thing i wrote up about gaz flubbing a flirt. i'm a normie/casual weightlifter. apologies to actual powerlifters. 🏋️

“Fuck me running.”

“Sounds difficult.”

“Get a load of her.”

“Pick your jaw off the floor, and stop staring, lech.”

“You’d be no better if you just looked.”

Gaz rolls his eyes at Soap’s stupefied expression, watching him miss his mouth with his pint glass. Foam spills over onto his shirt, causing the Scot to jerk in his seat and stare at his own appendage in offense.

View must be good for Soap to make himself more of a fool than usual. Kyle adjusts his cap, turns his head to the side in a feigned stretch, and immediately clocks the distraction in question.

A woman in a backless top sits alone at the bar with something fruity in hand. No bra band in sight, no tan lines either. That’s not what glues his eyes to her, though. It’s the rippling muscle the cut of fabric shows off, defined and apparent as she lifts her glass to drink. It continues south, too, her thick thighs spilling over the narrow stool. She looks like she’d give Ghost a run for his money. Like she’d rip him in half like a phone book.

He needs to talk to her.

Kyle turns back to Soap, dabbing at himself with a fistful of napkins. He downs the rest of his beer and then stands.

“I’ll get us fresh drinks.”

Before the lout can breathe a word, he beelines to the bar. Only. When he gets there, it occurs to him he doesn’t know what to say. Any other pretty face, he’d toss out one of his corny but winning lines. Send over a drink. With her, her muscles more impressive up close and wholly focused on a women’s football match, he’s tongue-tied. And that doesn’t happen often. Must be the moon’s position or something.

He bides his time, staring through the screen like he’s watching, thinking of what to say. Avoids the bartender’s curious gaze.

Then, an elbow knocks his arm very gently.

“Fishlock’s a beast, right?”

Kyle’s head swivels, eyebrows to his hairline. The target of his ill-planned op glances between him and the television.

“Yeah,” he sputters out a second too late. “She’s…feisty.” He could break his glass over his head. Feisty? What was he, eighty years old?

To his delight, she laughs, and a rush of heat flares in his stomach at the sound.

“Understatement of the century.”

He chuckles in disbelief at his luck. She gives him another smile. Fuck, he is done for. 

“You want to join me? Had a friend cancel, and I hate watching alone.”

“I’d love to,” he says, dropping into the empty stool probably too quickly. Their knees touch, but she doesn’t pull away. He fixes his eyes on the screen after placing an order. He watches the Welsh battle the Ukrainians, absorbing as many names and numbers as possible. His phone burns a hole in his pocket, and he can’t help but wonder how soon he can excuse himself to the toilet to read ten articles on women’s football for a refresher.

When she chimes in with a comment or a jeer, he does his best to reciprocate. Using talents he’s cultivated for infiltration and interrogation to string along a conversation in which he has no business participating.

It goes swimmingly until—

“There y’are, thought I’d have to find a bloodhound.”

Soap.

Kyle shifts in his seat, leveling a stare he hopes both contain whatever bullshit Soap’s preparing to spew—heaps, judging by his awful smirk—and communicates an unsubtle do not fuck this up for me. 

“Who’s this?”

Kyle opens his mouth, apparently in preparation to insert his own foot. He hasn’t gotten around to the name bit yet. Too busy learning about women’s football in real time. He looks sidelong at his would-be companion, another soft smile coming to his rescue.

She introduces herself, and he tries not to tack on a silent Garrick at the end of it, just to feel how it sounds. Christ, beyond done for.

“Pleasure to meet you.” She says.

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine, I’m sure. Name’s John, and this is–”

“Kyle. Like he said. Pleasure’s mine.” He offers a hand without hesitation, grinning when she takes it. Nearly groans at the calluses on her palms and fingers. Didn’t know he was into that. He smirks inwardly. Hm. Learning several new things today, Gaz.

“Are you…also here to watch the match?” She asks, gaze flitting between them.

He stares hard at Soap again and witnesses the devil himself whispering into the Scot’s ear. It’s truly an act of divine intervention when the other man shakes his head.

“‘Fraid not. I’ve got to run along, but Garrick’s all yours tonight.” He winks unctuously, waggling a brow to really sell it. “If you don’t mind watchin’ him.”

She smirks and pats his knee. “I’m sure I can handle him.”

Soap looks downright rakish. “Oh, I bet you can. See you in the morn, Kyle.”

He’s torn in two: she’s touched his leg and Soap’s cheek about tomorrow. The idiot lives a door down. They’re both on for PT at 0500. Dickhead.

“He’s friendly.” She muses as they return to the match.

“Too friendly. Like a failed police dog.” He mutters.

“Hmm. Does that make him a bad soldier?”

It takes effort not to choke. Their career, generally speaking, isn’t a secret, only their activities. Still. “Smart guess.”

“Despite his creative haircut, you’re both decently cut and we’re, what, twenty minutes from a base? Plus,” she shrugs. “His tattoo. Giveaway. I would’ve said ‘reenactor wannabe’, but your reaction confirms it.”

Kyle’s tongue swipes behind his teeth. She gets better by the minute. “Yeah? And, uh, what do you do for work?” Something physical, he bets silently. Something that necessitates her kind of build or creates it. 

“I’m a tailor.”

Or…not at all.

He can’t stop himself from blurting out. “So the muscles are—“ He abruptly stops, fingers gripping his drink tightly. Sweet Freddie Mercury. Forget smashing a glass over his scalp, he’ll vault through the front door headfirst.

“Powerlifting,” she proudly shares, setting her cocktail down to flex. Her muscles jump beneath her skin, straining into a mesmerizing landscape of strength and power. “My main hobby. If I could make money off it, believe me, I would,” she swings her frame forward and twists, showing off her traps. “But I learned how to sew and alter clothes when I, uh, outgrew conventional sizes.” Disdain paints the word. “Everything I’m wearing I customized to fit me, and me specifically.”

“Genius.” he says simply, mind half-blank when she turns forward again, flexing her biceps and forearms toward her lap. So she’s good with her hands.

A fist uncurls, and a finger crooks up. His face lifts to a smug smile.

“Impressed?”

“Thoroughly.” He swallows.

Her eyes drag over him, slowly and methodically. Picking him apart like a piece of meat. He suppresses a shudder. Yet another thing he didn’t know he liked. 

“How much do you weigh?”

A simple enough question. One he’s asked every so often, especially in medical, in between formal physicals. Coming from her, however, it’s an invitation.

And it is.

Straight into her arms.

Half the pub’s watching when she hoists him parallel to the ground, overhead, and squats. For a brief moment, arms crossed over his chest and back rigid, he swears he hears The Time of My Life. When she returns him to solid ground, to the cheers and toasts from the small crowd, he might as well still be in the air. Heavenbound. Preparing to meet Peter.

Eventually, the atmosphere calms, and he finds himself thigh-to-thigh with his strongwoman. They watch the remainder of the match, chatting—mostly about sports and work, but a bit about the little things—he’s not too thick when she offhandedly mentions knowing the neighborhood well. That her place is a few streets over.

He needs to be back on base before sunrise. He tells her as much outside the bar after the Welsh suffer defeat in penalties. He can relate to the feeling, knowing Soap’s gonna give him hell and Price will ream him out if he’s hungover. 

“Kyle, you’re cute, but we’re not at the sleepover stage yet,” she teases, picking invisible dust off his shirt. “I can give you a lift when you’re ready to leave.”

Strong. Witty. Confident. Can absolutely rip him in half. There is nothing he doesn’t like about her. So, so fucked. 

He grins stupidly when she beckons with a finger, beginning to walk toward her place.

“Premium?” He jokes, following. “I don’t settle for anything less than top-tier car service.”

“Not that kind of lift,” She answers, looking over a sculpted shoulder. “Fireman or princess?”

Kyle almost stumbles.

“Yes.”

[camilieroart]

LEO'S GENDER REVEAL

Price comic for winning the first round of @tmntaucompetition !

COLORCODED TMNT ITERATION

WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT ? CHECK IT OUT BELOW :D

When April returned from the bathroom, battle outfit off, and the dreaded fake breasts that started this mess back on, Leo was nowhere to be seen.

It wasn’t really surprising. But it was worrying. The common room was empty of any presence, including the pets. But, there was a trail. From the front door to the corridor that led to the boys’ rooms, discarded battle gear littered the ground.

And April was stressed. When April is stressed, she cleans things. She picked them up and gently put them on a table, folded neatly, separated by colors.

“Leo, come on man ! This is ridiculous, just open the door !”

Anyone who wasn’t used to Raph would think he was angry. The tone was sharp and calm, and the constant pounding of his fist against Leo’s door probably wouldn’t help. But Raph wasn’t mad. No, he was frustrated, and worried.

Leo and Raph always sought each other for comfort, and even when they didn’t, the other would come comfort them.

To Raph, not being able to get into the room and give his twin a hug or distract him from what was bothering him, not being able to make sure he was okay… It was torture.

April wasn’t surprised when she stepped in the corridor, to see Raph’s scrunched up face in worry, constantly fidgeting, scratch marks all over his forearm. He paced in front of Leo’s room, shaking his hands with energy, suddenly stopping to pound on the door some more, and resuming when he doesn’t get an answer.

Casey, Donnie and Mikey were sitting next to the door, while Meets leaned against the opposite wall. Splinter was with them, quietly catching up on what happened and why they had to cancel patrol for the night.

Donnie was tapping away on his phone, clearly opening and closing the same app over and over again. Mikey was leaning against him, struggling to keep his eyes open, but doing his best to jolt awake whenever his eyelids dropped too low. Casey leaned on the wall on the other side, occasionally whispering something to him that Donnie would answer just as low.

April went to Raph.

“I’m surprised you haven’t kicked the door down yet. I’d thought you would all be inside.”

“We would,” Answered Donnie, effectively jolting Mikey awake for the 5th time, “but when we tried to get in, he threw pillows at us until we were far enough for him to lock the door.”

‘Plus, we don’t want Donnie to be the one that has to fix the door later’ Supplied Meets.

“But why isn’t he answering ? He should at least be answering, right ? What if he hurt himself ? We should go in-”

April slowly crept even closer to Raph, who couldn’t get his eyes off the door. She reached out to his fidgeting hands but stopped an inch or two before touching. Without sparing a glance, Raph breached the gap and held her hands tight.

“He should have answered. Why isn’t he answering, Pril ?”

His hands were a bit awkward to hold onto, as he had now started to bounce on his heels, unable to keep still until he was able to check on his twin.

Raph finally looked at her and she sighed.

She gently rubbed his hands in a slow circle motion.

“Let me try, okay ?”

Still holding one of his hand to anchor him -despite the bouncing-, April knocked on Leo’s door.

“Hey, Leo ? It’s April, can I come in ?”

“...”

“Just me, Lee. Just me.”

A beat passed, and the faintest of click resonated in the quiet corridor. Raph instinctively rushed forward, but Splinter put a soft hand on his shoulder to hold him back.

“If Leonardo wants to see just April, my son, let him see just her for now.”

“But… Dad, he’s-”

“He’s confused and hurting and needs someone, and that someone is April. Once he feels better, we’ll all be able to see him, is that okay ?”

Raph looked over to the slightly open door, then to April that had still yet to let go of his hand. He reached over with his free hand to his forearm but Splinter gently took it before he could scratch himself. His dad offered a soft smile, gently patting his hand.

Raph let the tension leave his body, sagging like a rag doll.

“Fine, yeah...”

April gave a smile of her own and after one last squeeze, entered Leo’s room, closing the door behind her.

The room was a mess. It was already a wonder she was able to see it’s mess, considering how dark it was. The only light was coming from under the door, and some blue fairy lights she didn’t think Leo knew how to turn off.

The room was filled with destroyed wigs that she had never seen before, but that were probably gorgeous before they were ripped apart, dresses that came straight from a designer closet, with some intricate patterns and embroideries that must have taken hours to make now gone to rags thanks to some randomly placed scissors cut.

Makeup stained the floors, a lipstick that was crushed by someone’s heel, a powder that spilled all over the carpet…

April cautiously stepped around the mess, sitting on the bed next to a curled up Leonardo relatively unscathed.

He hadn’t even looked up, didn’t bother twitching as she sat beside him.

“What’s all this ?”

April worried for a moment, that she shouldn’t have spoken. Maybe all he wanted was some company, not to talk about it. As the seconds passed and no answer came, but Leo didn’t kick her out, she relaxed, gently leaning onto him. If he just wanted company, then she’d give him that.

“I don’t know. My inner girl that was trying to come out before I knew it I guess.”

Leo had looked up to the mess, his snout still buried in his arms, the slightest hint of eyes shiny from tears peeking out. April didn’t know what to say to that. She never really saw Leo wearing any of these, none of his usual dresses were in the mix. He seemed mad at something he did, but that was something she didn’t know about.

But she did come here to help, and if Leo was engaging, maybe he wanted an answer ? What answer could she give ?

“Ooooookay ?”

“I’m not a girl.”

Well, that seemed to work.

“No, you’re not.”

Finally, he looked at her, and April couldn’t help thinking about how his twin acted exactly the same only moments prior.

She smiled, gently pulling him closer to her until his cheek was almost squashed against her knees. Her big brother had always loved tight physical affection, and this time was no different as he instantly relaxed against her.

“You’re a boy, always been a boy. You’re Leo, you use he/him pronouns, and you say you’re a boy. So you are. You just… happened to be a boy without the dangly bits.”

The turtle let out a dry snicker, amused by her synonym. She couldn’t see the bottom of his face yet, as his eyes that had a spark of amusement dulled again, but she hoped he smiled, at least a little.

“I-it’s not the same.”

“Okay. Do you think I’m less of a girl because I do have dangly bits ?”

“What ? No ! Of course not !”

“Then why do you think you’re less of a boy than you were yesterday ?”

Leonardo grows quiet at that. His defensive position was gone, and he was playing with one of her sleeves, his eyes drifting somewhere else as he thought of the answer. April was rubbing slow circles on his shell, chin resting on top of his head, patiently waiting.

He already seemed less distressed than before. Talking about it, putting it into words, and more importantly, having his gender reaffirmed were some important steps to take. She knew he picked her specifically to take these steps because her experience was probably the closest to his, even if it wasn’t exactly the same.

“I thought… I thought I was… normal. I guess.”

April froze, and pushed him away just enough to look at him dead in the eyes.

“Leo. I love you, you’re my brother. But there’s nothing normal about you.”

He blinked a few times, and then realization and frustration fell on his face. He threw his hands in the air in such a childish way April couldn’t contain the giggles that bubbled up.

“I know, it’s not that ! It’s- UGH ! I don’t know how to explain it.”

He crossed his arms and pouted and April pulled him back into the side hug. Quickly, his tension left and he melted like he always did when presented with physical affection.

Leo was quiet for a bit longer than before, thinking, trying to put words into his feelings, and April was happy to let him do so. The silence was familiar, comfortable, and more at ease. Not still quite relaxed, but close to it. They weren’t far to breaking down the last point Leo felt uncomfortable with.

Although it’d be better if done quickly, as she could see that Raph pacing had resumed, and were getting more frantic the longer they were in there without any information given to the outside.

Oh Leo was not getting out of Raph’s hug.

“I’m not- I’m not trans.”

It was quiet, almost muttered, and if the room was completely silent, April would have missed it. Like he was embarrassed, or ashamed to say it. Or he was scared of the answer.

“Of course you aren’t.”

He glanced up at her, eyes big and wide and confused. Like it wasn’t a possibility. Like he was doomed with a label that felt bad and uncomfortable.

“I’m not…?”

“If you don’t want to be trans, Leo, then you’re not. It’s not as complicated as everyone makes it out to be. They’re just words. If you don’t want that label, then it’s not yours. Cis Leonardo who happens to not have dangly bits, why not !”

The turtle contemplated that for a minute, letting the words sink in.

“So… I’m not trans.”

“Do you want to be ?”

“No ! I-I mean… no. No. I don’t want to.”

“It all comes down to this you know. Everything. What do you want to do, or be ? As long as it doesn’t hurt you or others, you can do anything. You can be a vigilante. You can make art on walls, you can dress funny in public, carry a plushie… Does it hurt you or someone else ? No ? Then who cares.”

They sat in silence a little bit longer, enjoying each other presence.

The last of the tension had left, and April could already feel Leo preparing to face the rest of the family, whether it’d be from the quick glance at the door, or the occasional twitch, like he was about to move but decided against it at the last second.

The turtle was fully pressed against her, soaking in the physical affection, taking it in and changing it into bravery to answer the questions of his siblings and explain how he felt about it.

April was happy to provide.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

To Catch A Falling Star (Idia Shroud x Reader)

Inspired by a scene from Criminal Minds

Masterlist

Reader is intended to be female

If Idia had to describe you in one word it was unexpected.

He still remembers the day he met the magicless prefect who appeared out of nowhere in a fiery blaze of glory like some leveled up shounen protagonist about to fight the final boss, how Ortho had directed you into his room before he could stop him. And instead of being repulsed by the many, many posters, figurines and merch he had scattered around his room, you were in fact…elated?

“You’re an otaku as well?” you beamed at him, your starry-eyed gaze of awe rendering him speechless before he flinches as you yell, pumping your fists in the air, “Finally! A worthy opponent! Our battle will be legendary!”

Yeah, he does not have the energy to unpack that.

Anyway, he never expected you to appear in his world, and he never expected to find himself comfortable with you, his new gaming buddy and fellow animanga enthusiast. You never judge him for his tastes or his behaviour or less than ideal personality. You were someone he could genuinely call a friend andabsolutelynothingmoreOrthoIloveyoubutpleasebequiet.

And having you around a lot, both because of you just barging into his room or by Ortho’s multitude of invites, just felt natural, your chatter being something that he could call soothing. Which is how he found himself absolutely dominating his current multiplayer playthrough with you doing your own thing by his side.

After his team had won the game, he turned to you, ready to receive your subsequent praise, only to find that your attention was diverted towards a wooden toy thing, your face scrunched up in concentration as your fingers fiddled with its many vertices.

“What are you doing?” he asked and you paused your twiddling, looking up at him. 

“Oh I got this star puzzle in Sam’s shop earlier. It reminded me a lot of this thing we have back in my world so I thought that I’d try it out,” you look back down and resume playing with it, “it’s practically impossible to figure out. You’ve got to put all of these pieces together to form a perfect star. It’s a bit of a headache really but it’s got a really sweet backstory.”

“So that thing’s got lore?” Idia raised his eyebrows and held out his hand. You gently toss it into his open palm.

“Well, you see it’s this romantic story where a young prince wanted to win the heart of the fairest maiden in the land, so he climbed up to the top of the tallest tower in the kingdom and caught a falling star for her. But, since he was so excited to give it to her, he dropped it and it smashed into all of these small pieces. So he frantically put it back together again to prove his undying love to her and he succeeded and they lived happily ever after.”

“What a load of normie nonsense,” Idia scoffed.

“Excuse me?!”

“You can’t catch a falling star,” he deadpanned, “it would burn up in the atmosphere.”

“Really?” you ask, unimpressed, “you live in a world that has flying broomsticks and magic mirrors and plants that can yell loud enough to kill someone - I really don’t think you can argue about the concept of reality when there are children here who are capable of breaking the laws of physics on the regular.”

“But still, it’s stupid,” he grumbles, “why does catching a star make you a shoujo manga male lead.”

“It’s romantic,” you argue, “he loves her so much that he would do the impossible for her. Besides, the point is that it’s impossible to do because you have to take all of these pieces and fit them exactly into the shape of a -”

You trail off, dumbfounded, when Idia smugly presents to you the completed puzzle, a small brown star sitting idly in his hand. 

“You were saying,” he smirked at your flabbergasted expression, preening slightly when it shifted to annoyed, “it doesn’t seem all that hard to me.”

“Why do you have to be like this,” you lamented, pouting as you grumbled about ‘high and mighty otakus who think they’re so cool just because they’ve beaten you in every one-v-one you’ve played’.

“Just take the L,” he said, not without a hint of condescension, as he turned back to his screen. Thankfully you were too busy wallowing to notice the magenta glowing along the edges of his hair. Why do you have to be so cute? You’re dangerous, you know.

Yeah, you’re a pretty unpredictable person. But that doesn’t mean that he can’t pull any epic gamer moves of his own.

[rory-multifandom-mess]

This might be an odd request, but if you’re interested could you do Jhad angst with prompts 2 and 21? I get it’s a pretty niche ship, but I’ve seen your other work and I’m interested on your take of the pairing.

Brother I shit you not I was JUST talking about this ship right before you sent this ask I am not even kidding. The timing on this was amazing. Here’s the screenshots of my exact reaction

ANYWAY I’d gladly do this pairing!! I think it would be really cute and I may or may not be thinking about writing a slow burn for it eheheheh

2. “Please don’t leave me” and 21. “I’m better when I’m with you”

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

.

.

.

Alone. A word that kept repeating in J’s head.

She was alone again, just like before, just like she always was. Just like before the manor, and after the massacre. She couldn’t win. She just couldn’t win.

Tessa was her friend, yet she was ripped away from her by that damn thing. V was her friend, yet she ruined that by siding with it.

Why couldn’t V just understand? It was the only way to survive. There was no escape, even in death… Though apparently she was wrong. Because they won. Solver was gone, and she was alone again.

J sighed as she gripped the blow torch harder, repairing the ship she had unceremoniously blown up.

She grit her teeth together, memories of their battle flashing before her, of Cyn using Tessa’s skin as a suit.

Suddenly, the blowtorch snapped in half from the pressure, the metal dented.

“Damnit!” J exclaimed, angrily throwing it into the snow beneath her. She jumped off the ship and kicked the broken torch further away, fists clenched by her side.

“Yikes-“ A voice said nearby, by the exit of the corpse spire.

J immediately swiveled around, one of her hands switching out for a rocket launcher as she aimed in its direction.

The worker drone flinched and fumbled with whatever it was he was holding before putting his hands up, eyebrows raised.

“Woah, J, relax!” He said.

“Oh.” J huffed, lowering her arm.

It was Thad, the one worker drone she managed to befriend. Well, more like he befriended her, despite her previous attempt to kill him. Granted, it was at least a few months after she had attacked that bunker.

She’d first met him in the woods, just outside of the abandoned city where “Tessa” was scouting out. She’d put J on watch duty.

At first, J didn’t bother to interact with him. But then she kept seeing him, and he’d only look even more sad and cold each time. Eventually, it turned into pity. She’d visit him while Boss was scoping the planet.

She would never admit it, but she slowly grew acquainted with this strange Worker Drone. Maybe it’s because it reminded her of the manor, when life was simpler. Maybe it’s because he reminded her so much of Tessa, goofy and dorky and funny and caring all the same. It was a breath of fresh air.

That was, until boss pulled her away from him too, because she finally had a lead.

J wouldn’t see him again for a while, at least not until everything came to a head and it was finally time for Solver to finish what it had started on the planet. They hadn’t gotten to talk at all, of course, everything was so intense, but she had noticed that he was hesitant to attack her before the planet had suddenly broken into pieces.

“What do you want? Here to mock me?” She asked with a snarl.

“Uh… no,” Thad said, scratching the back of his head. “I wanted to check up on you, actually.”

Her gaze softened as Thad walked further in.

“Y’know, that whole big battle seemed really intense. Thought you could use some company, since…” He trailed off.

J crossed her arms, putting her weight on one of her legs. “Because everyone hates me now?”

Sweat ran down his visor. He blinked and nodded slightly.

“I wanted to give you this.” He held out the item he had been holding to her.

It was a plush of a pink rabbit, its ears, arms, and legs floppy. It had button eyes and a white belly, yet it looked dirty with oil and debris. J took it from his hands and turned it slightly, looking at it.

Her expression softened more.

She loved plushies, even now after all this time since the manor days. She had missed just being able to hold one close and play with it. She gently squeezed its torso.

“…Thank you, Thad.” She said, glancing away and furrowing her brows, “But I don’t… I don’t need plushies.”

Thad raised an eyebrow. “Then why did you hesitate?”

J stopped for a moment, then moved the plush to her other hand, her claws extruding from the other as she pointed them at Thad.

“Don’t forget I can kill you right now!” She threatened, baring her teeth.

Thad put his hands up again, but only chuckled. “C’mon, J. You know you don’t have to hide anything anymore, right? You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not. It’s gone. It can’t hurt you anymore.”

J froze. How did Thad know any of that? He was just a worker drone. There was no way he could’ve just said that on a whim.

He was right. She knew that. But— how?-

“I, uh… I asked V, N, and Uzi to give me a run down on everything,” Thad admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t fully understand everything, but from what I got, it… sounded pretty rough. For all of you.”

J felt her legs start to shake. First, anger, but then confusion and relief, all hit at once. Someone knew, someone, for the most part, understood, wanted to understand, wanted to understand her. Her expression twisted, trying to keep the emotions at bay, but the softness of his voice, the tone, the look he was giving.

It all made her so weak, in such a good way.

J lowered her arms and hung her head, arms shaking, her fists clenched around the bunny plush.

“And yet, after all of what they told you, you still want to talk to me?” She asked incredulously, her voice shaking slightly.

“Of course I do. You were there for me when I was stuck in the woods, even if you were mostly mocking me.” He chuckled at the memory, then added, “I’m repaying the favor.”

J glanced away from him, hugging her arms.

“Thanks, I guess.”

Thad smiled up at her, then looked past her at the ship.

“What’re you working on?” He asked.

She followed his gaze, then groaned.

“The ship. I was repairing it after I blew it up- You know, as an… apology to V. And N and Uzi, I guess,” She explained, “But I just broke the only welder I had.”

“Oh!” Thad perked up. “Want me to go grab you one?”

J looked at him again, confused. “Why?”

Thad shrugged. “Why not? I don’t want you to be lonely out here forever, J.”

Her core shook.

“Be right back, kay?” He said, turning on his heel and sprinting back out of the spire.

J watched after him until he disappeared behind the corpse walls. She looked down at the snowy footprints he made in his wake, tracing her eyes over each ridge of the shoe tracks.

She turned back to the ship, her mind wandering as she hugged her arms.

Now that she thought about it more, Thad really did remind her so much of Tessa in many more ways that she thought. They were both so bright and bubbly all the time, yet they bruised so easily. They were fragile, one and the same yet two separate people. Two separate things.

She was athletic, just like him. He was kind, just like her. He smiled with his teeth, just like she did when she laughed. She would glow when she was happy, and so would he.

He made stupid jokes just like she would, and would sometimes mess with her just to get a reaction. J gripped her arms tighter and closed her eyes.

The day of the Gala. Tessa’s left arm was hurt. It was bruised, yet untreated. J wanted to help, but she couldn’t.

“I’m ‘right, J.” Tessa would tell her, smiling nervously and rubbing the bruise with her hand.

She could tell she wasn’t alright. It hurt still, even moreso emotionally, she figured. But J never got to express how much she cared, because in the end all she was to Tessa was a pet. Something to be admired and laugh at, something that wasn’t supposed to have or understand the same complex feelings that a human possessed.

J knew she was more than that.

Then, before she and Cyn had reached the cabin fever labs. She found Thad in the woods again, hunched over and sitting in the snow, holding his left leg tightly. When she walked over, he looked up at her and smiled.

“Hey! What’s up?” He’d say, cheerfully, attempting to mask the pain he was in, albeit terribly.

“What happened to your leg?” She would ask, sounding stern and uncaring, her arms crossed across her chest, portraying faux feelings of apathy toward him.

“Oh— It’s nothin. I’m alright, J.” He’d promised, smiling up at her nervously.

Her heart swelled. He even talked like her sometimes.

J opened her eyes again and looked up at the glittering stars above her, a complacent expression playing on her face.

It was a surprisingly clear night out that night, the stars clear and twinkling softly, looking back down at her.

Thad was everything Tessa was and more, wasn’t he? He cared about J. He wanted her to have friends, to learn how to live with them so she wouldn’t have to live alone forever, regretting the decisions she made and the pain she caused.

He held his hand out for her, much like Tessa did, but this time, as a friend. Not as an owner, guiding a lost dog to her home. Thad had picked her up despite her flaws and tendencies, to try and guide her down a path of love and joy.

Not to mention, he was as handsome as his personality. J would never admit it herself, but he looked nice. Nicer than most male worker drones she had come across and ultimately slaughtered. For a moment, she wondered why he, of all drones, had hair, despite most males not having any, from what she could tell. So full of mystery as well, wasn’t he?

Just then, J froze, her head snapping back down as she stared into the distance, her eyelights hollow and blush forming beneath them.

“…Oh no…” She said slowly, the realization kicking in. “No no no!” She exclaimed, hiding her hands in her face.

She had fallen for him. And hard. Either it was because he was so much like Tessa, or because he was just himself, it didn’t matter. She liked him; no, she loved him, just as she had Tessa.

But— how could he ever love her back? She tried to kill him— She tried to kill everyone. She sided with the thing that was trying to eat the planet and kill everyone else with it. N, V, and Uzi undoubtedly hate her, and worst of all— …She was a failure. All of this time trying to be the best, and she couldn’t even do one thing right.

She failed Tessa. She failed to be the best maid, she failed to keep her safe. She failed Cyn, and the company. She was sent to do a job, yet she couldn’t even complete it.

She was pathetic.

The sound of snow crunching underfoot broke her from her thoughts, a gentle tap on her shoulder.

She flinched and turned her head.

It was Thad, looking at her with concern. “Are you okay?”

Don’t look at me like that.

“Yeah. I’m- I’m perfect!” J said, straightening her posture and turning to him, her tail swaying close to the ground. “Just fine.”

Thad tilted his head, then shrugged. He held out the welder to her.

“Here. Just don’t break it this time,” He joked.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Yeah yeah”

J’s wings appeared from her back again and flared out as the anti-gravity jets roared to life, sending her up so she could gracefully land on the top of the landing pod again, carefully welding the metal pieces together. She watched Thad out of the corner of her eye.

He put his hands into his pockets and watched, leaning back and forth on his feet. Despite his body language, he didn’t look bored. He seemed more intrigued than anything, looking over the ship in its whole, or at least as whole as it was at the moment.

J glanced at him.

“Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you go back to the bunker now?” She asked, putting on an annoyed facade.

“It’s the middle of the night, man,” Thad explained, “No one knows I’m here. And I don’t have to get to school for another two hours.”

J huffed. “Well, you better not distract me,” She said.

Please talk to me.

Thad put his hands up and nodded. “You got it, J.”

No, not like that. Stop acting like her.

J drew her eyes away from him and back at the metal she was welding, trying to focus. But her thoughts always went back to him. She couldn’t get him out of her head. Just the thought of hugging him was enough to make her mind spiral, and the idea of holding him made her feel like melting.

She was hyper aware of all movement in the area - a side effect that came from being a disassembly drone - so every small subtle move he made was enough to gain a glance from her. When he shifted his weight, or moved his hands, or took a few steps forward, she’d notice and look at him.

Suddenly, his words broke through the icy air.

“Hey, J.”

J glanced up at him, then back at her welding job.

“What?”

A smile slowly grew on Thad’s face, getting an idea.

“What’s this thing for anyway?” He asked, knocking on a metal panel, “Trying to build some kind of forest creature?”

J paused, looking at him in confusion. “You, of all people, should know what a space ship like this is for.”

Thad shrugged. “I mean, if you look at it from an angle, it kinda looks like a messed up spider.”

J simply rolled her eyes and returned to welding the metal panels. She moved to another support and lifted another metal panel, holding it against the metal already attached to the ship.

Thad seemed to stare at her for a moment, then glanced away.

It was times like these where J wished solver granted them the power of mind reading. She wanted to know what was going on inside that little brain of his. Two out of her six eyes squinted at him, the remaining four focused on the welding.

The only thing that filled the air was the crackle of the welder and the howling of the wind for a moment, until Thad interrupted.

“Hey, JJ!” He called.

“What, Thad?” She asked, the eyes on her display deadpanning.

“I bet your humor is as hard to catch as a frisbee in the wind!” He said with full confidence, a wide dorky grin on his face, his hands on his hips.

Stop doing that. Stop being like her. What is wrong with you?

J stifled a smile and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well maybe you aren’t trying hard enough.”

“Ooh, playing hard to get! I like it!” He teased, pointing at her with finger-guns and winking, “Challenge accepted.”

J shook her head. What was he doing? What challenge? What was the point of this? What was he going to gain out of this?

J’s mind raced so much, she nearly welded her hand to the ship.

Now he was doing the one thing she told him not to do. Distract her. Granted, him merely being there was enough to distract her at first, so maybe he wasn’t at fault.

“Ooh! I got a good one,” He said, a mischievous look in his eyes as he rubbed his hands together.

“What’s white and has wheels?” He asked, anticipation in his voice.

J paused for a moment, thinking. She tilted her head slightly. In all the jokes that Tessa had told her, this was one she was unfamiliar with. Her mind went to the first most logical answer she could think of.

“A bike?” She said, hesitating.

“The snow! I lied about the wheels!” Thad basically shouted, throwing his arms into the air with a large grin across his face. She noticed that some of his teeth were strangely sharp.

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” She said, rolling her eyes and returning to her welding.

“Sure it does!” Thad said with a snicker, “You gotta stop thinking so literally about everything, J.”

She stopped, if only for a moment. She remembered when Tessa had told her that, after making a dumb joke like that, with the same gesture and the same, proud grin.

Her grip tightened on the welding tool.

Thad paced around, thinking of what to try next. She glanced at him.

Seriously, what was he doing? He kept saying random jokes, despite the fact she told him not to distract her. It’s not like she was going to do anything to stop him, she liked the jokes, it just—

WOAH. No! She did not like the jokes! She didn’t like jokes! Jokes were stupid and wasted time— There wasn’t any point to them, they made no sense—

Suddenly, she heard a thud and flinched, breaking her from her thoughts once again. Her head snapped to the sound, only to see Thad stumble back from one of the ship’s legs and fall into the snow, holding his foot with a pained expression.

J couldn’t help but snicker at his misfortune, confused but delighted.

He opened an eye and looked up at her, surprised to hear her snickering. She turned her head away quickly and covered her mouth, stifling her laughter.

She lowered her head and shook it, trying to keep herself calm. Behind her, she heard Thad call her name. She looked up and turned her head to him, curious.

Right as she turned her head to him, he began sprinting up a mound of snow, only to purposefully slip and tumble down the mound, landing on his stomach. He looked up at her expectantly.

J simply stared at Thad, her eyelights half-lidded. She shook her head and averted her attention back to her welding. She was almost done with the panel.

Honestly, watching him get thrown around was kind of funny, especially since he was throwing himself around. All that, just to get her to-

The realization hit her like a bowling ball.

Those silly jokes, the stupid looks, the dumb actions that would end in him getting hurt— they were all for her. To get her to laugh and ‘loosen up a little,’ as Tessa would put it.

Dear God, he’s just like her. Why is he so much like her? What is wrong with him?!

“Oh!” Thad suddenly exclaimed, causing J to stop welding. It was alright, though. She had just finished a panel.

She groaned, trying her hardest to keep her front up, and hopped off the ship, picking up another panel.

“What did one corporate say to the other?” Thad asked, excited to tell the joke, eagerness in his voice.

J raised an eyebrow as she shook the panel off, dusting snow from it. She was intrigued this time. Thad didn’t seem the type to know anything about corporations.

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing, because they’re bad at diplomacy!” He announced proudly, almost way too excited to see her reaction.

J stifled her laughter, quickly raising the new panel over her face so he wouldn’t see the look on her face.

She was smiling because of his dumb joke. It was funny, of course it was funny, and it made sense- and she was sure Thad picked up on her attempt to cover her laugh.

She tried to play it off, lunging back onto the pod with the panel in hand. In the corner of her eyes, she saw Thad’s goofy grin, and knew that trying to hide it had already failed.

A silence fell between the two of them as Thad began to pace, presumably thinking of more jokes, scratching his chin. Whenever he’d think of one, he’d stop and blurt it out. Of course, most of his jokes needed her to respond, but J didn’t mind that.

With each joke, J would giggle just a little bit more than before, even snorting quietly once. She couldn’t help it.

The way he delivered each joke with enthusiasm and the tone of a comedian, his stupid, adorable little face, full of excitement and pure joy, his face brightening whenever he’d hear her giggles.

She had to admit, his charm was irresistible.

She slowly began to forget her worries, forgetting how much Thad and Tessa had in common.

After a prolonged silence, Thad stopped in his pacing again.

“Oh! What do you do if you get the bird flu?” He asked, that same silly grin playing on his face.

J leaned back and looked at him with a smile. “What?”

“You get— …Uh…” Thad trailed off, glancing at the snow.

“Wait, I— I forgot the punchline,” He chuckled softly as he spoke, furrowing his brows as he tried to remember.

J snickered. “Take your time.” She said smugly, turning back to her welding.

Silence fell between the two again as he wracked his brain, trying to remember. J almost forgot he had even started to set up a punchline.

Suddenly, Thad’s head jolted back up as he shouted.

“Tweetment!” He exclaimed, his voice so loud it echoed through the barren outdoors.

J finally couldn’t hold in her giggles anymore, a hearty laugh erupting from her throat as she leaned back from the spot she was welding. Her legs slipped, sending her careening off of the pod and into the snow, still laughing and smiling, snorting every once in a while.

Thad grinned at her, admiring her smile and the way she laughed. He loved every snort, every giggle, every time she would roll on the ground, clutching her sides as she couldn’t stop from laughing.

He had succeeded in getting her to let loose, at least for now.

He chuckled, approaching her from the side and leaning forward slightly to hover over her face, placing his hands on his knees.

“It’s nice to see you smile like this, Jaybird,” He said softly, his expression kind and full of adoration.

J’s heart exploded in her chest, butterflies in her stomach as her eyelights hollowed at what he had just said.

Tessa’s voice echoed in her head.

“It’s nice t’see ya smile like this, Jaybird!”

That same smile. That same nickname. That same damned expression and tone of joy and pride. Those damned green eyes.

J quickly sat up and shoved his face away, turning away from him and curling up in a ball, her hands on her head.

Thad yelped and stumbled back slightly, trying not to fall.

Damn it all! Why do you have to be like this, you stupid toaster! Why? …Why me? Is this my punishment? Is this what I get?

Her mind raced, a swirl of emotions, anger and sorrow and melancholy, her core pounding in her ears.

“J?” Thad asked, concerned, rubbing his face.

She didn’t respond, her arms beginning to tremble.

She hated him. No, she hated herself. How could she let this happen? How could she allow herself to fall so heavily for this little drone? He was so much like Tessa, yet so different at the same time. She craved to hear his voice and feel his touch all the same as she did with Tessa, yet somehow stronger.

Thad’s worry only grew as he stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. “C’mon, Jaybird, talk to me. What’s up?” He asked again.

That stupid nickname!

He was so much like her. But what if he was too much like her? What if she had fallen for someone with the same quirks and personality and phrases as her first crush, just for them to be ripped away again? Just for her heart to be taken and stomped on and spit on all over again? What if he didn’t like her back? What if he was just there because he thought she was pitiful?

“…You’re so much like her,” J finally muttered, not lifting her head, her voice shaking. Despite her doubts, despite everything— she decided to tell Thad what was going on. Maybe not about how badly she wanted to kiss him, though. Not yet.

“…What?” Thad responded, sitting next to her in the snow.

“Tessa. Cyn was wearing her skin, you know.”

Thad’s eyebrows raised. “…Oh.”

J chuckled sadly, hugging her legs. “I’m such an idiot, Thad.”

She paused for a moment, waiting for Thad to react, though he didn’t.

“I sided with that thing because I thought there was no point in fighting. I knew what it could do. V and I both did.” She sniffled. “It toyed with us. It used us to slaughter billions, all three of us.”

As she began to explain, Thad sat beside her and rubbed comforting circles on her back, listening closely.

“It used us to kill Tess’s family. It used us to kill her. It wore her skin like a badge… I still remember her screams.”

Finally, J’s head lifted. She looked out at the snow, her eyelights hollow, digital tears wavering in the corners of them.

“…I tried to fight back, Thad. Before all of this— I wanted to stop it. But I never won. It would always kill me and then clone me again. There was no escape, even in death.” J paused again, then huffed. “Guess I was wrong.”

it became silent between the two. The air around them turned sour, dampened by J’s experiences.

She sniffled and sobbed, internally berating herself for being so vulnerable in front of a stupid adorable worker drone. She was pathetic.

“…Geez,” Thad finally muttered, “I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I was in your situation.”

J didn’t say anything.

“I… I don’t think you did anything wrong, J.”

She turned her head to him.

“Sure, you made some mistakes,” Thad said, shrugging, “but you were just scared. You did what you thought was right, even if it wasn’t the best. Everyone makes mistakes.”

J stared at him. “How can you not be mad at me?”

Thad thought for a moment, glancing at the stars. Then, he looked back at her. “Because everyone has their own story. You were forced to kill someone you were super close to. You gave up, because you couldn’t fight back. You only wanted to survive.”

He paused, then smiled. “In the end, that’s all any of us want, right? That’s why the Worker Drones fled under the ice when you guys showed up.”

J looked into his lime green eyes. Her heart swelled. He was genuine. He didn’t hate her. He actually understood her. He was finally someone who cared enough to see her side of the story, to listen to her grief and fear and empathize.

Something Tessa failed to do.

Tears welled up in her eyes again as she dropped her head back into her knees, hugging her legs.

Thad frowned, his brows furrowing in concern. He gently leaned on her, awkwardly slinging his arm around her shoulders and patting her arm.

“It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, J,” He reassured, speaking slowly and softly.

Stop doing that.

She hated this. She hated being vulnerable like this, sobbing pathetically into her knees while a Worker Drone leaned on her, comforting her. She hated that it was working. She hated that she needed comfort. She had said it before, she would say it again. She didn’t need anybody.

…But deep down, she knew that wasn’t true. Without someone to boss her around, what was she worth? If she couldn’t do a job, what was the point? That was the real reason she had started to put that stupid pod back together.

Most of all, J hated how much she crumbled around Thad. She hated how much he reminded her of Tessa, and how she fell for him just like she did her. Just because they cared. Just because they were trying to save her from a terrible path. She hated how pathetic she was.

She was suddenly broken from her thoughts by the sound of an alarm. She hadn’t even realized she stopped crying. How long were they sitting there for?

Thad jolted upright, slapping his face.

“Crap! I stayed out too long! I’m sorry, J, but I gotta bolt!” He said in a panic, quickly scrambling to his feet.

J perked up as well, but quickly turned, her knees hitting the snow as she reached up and grabbed his wrist.

“Wait!” She called.

He stopped and looked back at her, surprised.

She looked back up at him. Blush spread across her visor as her jaw hung open, eyelights hollow.

Wait. What am I doing?! She thought, panic rushing through her wiring.

“…Uh… P…Please… don’t leave me.” She asked quietly, glancing away, “I… I, uh… I feel better when I’m around you, Thad.”

She groaned and pulled her hand away, covering her face.

“God, I’m so pathetic, aren’t I…?” She asked no one in particular.

Thad didn’t seem to move for a second. Then, he dropped down onto his knees and gently grabbed her hands, pulling them off her face with a soft smile.

“No no, it’s okay! What’s one missed day of school, right?” He shrugged, “It’s Friday anyway. I’ll stay. I promise.”

J looked at him in the eyes, her processor running at two miles an hour. She felt so conflicted— she wanted him to stay, but her pride— like it wasn’t already damaged enough— but it’s a Worker Drone! I don’t need pity from a worker drone—

“…Thank you.” She muttered, cracking a small smile.

Thad smiled back.

“No probbles.”

J snickered.

“Such a dumb abbreviation.”

She didn’t care. She could sit like this for the rest of forever.

.

.

.

HOOLLLYYY SHIIIT. LONGEST ONE OF THESE EVER I APOLOGIZE FOR ALL OF YOUR DASHBOARDS. ANYWAY. I'm so sorry this took fucking ages to complete, my personal life has been so so busy.

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED ANYWAY!! This was so so much fun to write, I love exploring J's character. AUGH. Don't worry Thad eventually helps her get over Tessa :D

Also so sorry to all the people who are waiting on their requests , especially to those who have been waiting since August. Life has been busy and I've been unmotivated. I'm hoping to get back to it whenever I can though!!!!

~~~~~~~

Prompt Post! Lizzy x Doll; "Stay with me forever"/"Because I love you!" N x V; "I thought you didn't want me"/"Why haven't you kissed me yet?" V x Thad; "I'm in love with you" V x Thad "I missed you so much"/"I can't stay away from you" N x Thad; "Can I kiss you?" N x Thad; "I want you. Only you." V x Thad; "I thought you didn't want me." Sam x Uzi; "The way I feel with you"/"I can't stay away from you." Uzi x Thad; "Please don't leave me"/"I'll always love you" N x Thad; "Please marry me"/"Why haven't you kissed me yet?" N x Uzi; "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen"/"I'm better when I'm with you" J x Thad; "Please don't leave me"/"I'm better when I'm with you." <- You are here!

[aealzx]

“You know, I think if we had a competition for the most gnarly injury you’d win it every time,” Leo commented while he focused on properly cleaning the four definitely infected slashes across Donnie’s back. It had been tense at first, considering it had been way longer than Leo would have liked before the wounds were properly addressed. The others had tried to take care of them without him since he'd been with Splinter at Big Mama's place, but they just didn’t have his eye for the important things. And Shredder really did some damage this time. At least Donnie's battle shell had managed to take the brunt of the blow. “Raph would win on the sheer number of injuries, of course. He goes through band aids like personal sized pizza. But you definitely, somehow, always end up with the most complicated ones.”

Leo was making jokes. And while it was exasperating to listen to, it was also reassuring for Donnie to hear. It meant that while he still felt awful and kept a fistful of Splinter’s robe, Leo was confident he would be just fine. “...I think this is a competition I’d rather lose,” Donnie responded, voice muffled by the pillow his face was mostly smothered in. Leo was being as gentle as possible, but the sterile saline still caused his tissue to sting, earning hisses and flinches from him.

Leo could only chuckle in response, tenderly pressing Donnie’s shell so he could see inside the gash better. “Don’t worry pops. He’ll be just fine. I can already see improvement because of the antibiotics,” he assured when he noticed Splinter giving him a mildly frustrated look. “This isn’t even as bad as the one he got when he was a tot - oh, another piece of metal. Hang on.” His assurance broke off as he was able to confirm that there was a foreign material that needed to be removed from the wound, setting one of the many bottles of saline down in exchange for needle pointed tweezers. Donnie already knew the drill by now, and responded by sucking in a stiff breath and tightening his grip on his dad, Splinter returning the motion by holding him a little more firmly. He wasn’t looking forward to the stitches, but he was looking for the long nap he was going to take once Leo was finally done.

And at least Leo’s hands had gotten a lot more steady over the years.

____________________

Here, have a little side turtle thing unrelated to any of my existing projects |D Or well, mostly unrelated. I started drawing this like 2 weeks ago and then forgot why I wanted to draw it other than Mikey mentioning it in CDK. And sometimes I like to draw angst, but then I ran out of the super angst desire for this one and ended up making it a little lighter in the text?

I just really wanted to get something up after this long |D Even if I am more in a state of "why did I draw this again? e,e" atm X'D

[fairyyarchive]

I LOVED FWB ZOROOOO I GOT SOME MORE

Running into him after hes all sweaty from his workout in the sunny and asking him to feel his muscles 😩😩 (can u make the reader bite his biceps once or sum LMAO)

HEY BESTIEEE tysm for your requests you keep me going <3 this one is a little rushed but i promise my upcoming uploads are so worth it hehe. Ty as always for the love and don’t hesitate to send me literally any and all ideas you have you’re the best!! <3 faye Content: afab reader, training, martial artist reader, sweaty zoro, suggestive content, flirty and fun bc these two are my favs rn

bad form

An empty day, in this economy? It truly seemed impossible. However, the fact remained true, leaving the members of the Straw Hat crew finding ways to occupy themselves. Nami had offered for you to come with her for a few errands (since when does Nami run errands..?) but you declined in favor of using the Sunny’s training room. Training with the view of the sky and sea outside, air blowing in through the windows gave you a sense of clarity and calmness that allowed you to train at your best.

You quickly discovered that you weren’t the only one with that plan; a familiar green haired, broad shouldered, toned back… swordsman. Crewmate. With benefits? You weren’t sure yet, exactly, but you did know that since the first time you’d slept together, you couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that you really knew how those muscles worked now, and not just in battle. 

Regardless of your situation, you still wanted to get some basics in, at least. Zoro seemingly didn’t notice you enter the room, focusing instead on the swords in his hand as he ran through his exercises, precise and strong and sure of his movements, as always.

You began your stretches, shifting your focus from previous escapades with your –devastatingly hot– crewmate to the sounds of the ocean and breeze outside. It wasn’t what you’d grown up with, but you’d found that as long as you were where the sounds of nature could find you, the focus you required found you as well. Your focus was so in tune, in fact, that you hadn’t noticed Zoro’s presence just behind you. 

“Form’s a little lax today, got something on your mind sweetheart?” His hand is on your waist, the other running up your back to straighten your posture. You turn around in his arms, concentration definitely broken. His breathing was heavy, nearly bare chest heaving and sweat glistening from what was likely hours of training before you’d seen him. His body buzzed with warmth and energy behind you, sparking electricity in your veins.

“You’re lucky I was just warming up, I could’ve swept you in no time. Bam,” you punched his arm, small fist hitting stone muscle. Ugh. 

“Yeah? I’d have had you headlocked in no time babe, your knees were locked and your back wasn’t straight at all,” he chuckled. His forearm barred your chest, pulling you flush against him and knocking the breath from your lungs. Your back hit his absolute wall of a chest, bodies now alight with the sparks that flashed between you.

“Yeah well…” You huffed. It wasn’t fair that he always got the upper hand, though you knew you’d rather be wrapped up in him than kicking his ass - at least today. That didn’t mean you couldn’t be a little annoying while you’re at it, though. You started softly, craning your neck to plant soft little pecks all over Zoro’s arm.

“Hey, what are you – Ow! What the hell?” Zoro flinched back when you bit down on his forearm, teeth pinching the skin totally surprising him from the sweet kisses you’d been giving him. 

You giggled, twisting around in his grip and using your right foot (and his surprise) to sweep his ankle, knocking him to the ground. You toppled on top of him, wasting no time in straddling his waist and locking him in between your legs. Zoro had seemingly given up, knowing his raw strength could overpower you but opting to give you this win instead, just to see the cocky grin on your face. 

“I win,” you smirked, leaning close to his face to kiss him. 

“This time,” Zoro smiled back, warmer than before. 

Yeah, he’d let you keep thinking this was your win. 

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊

loved doing this actually bc even without smut Zoro is so obviously obsessed hehe, more to come soon! ty for all the love <3 faye

✩ taglist @msmisasoup @puff-hugs @mrsyixingunicorn10 @buggy0827 @tr4psta @aj-1154 @henrioo @eelnoiz @justbepeace @gamzee-makara7 @fancysharkengineer @youcantfindmeyetimhere

☆.。. Masterlist

☆.。. Requests

☆.。. Join my taglist!

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

fic ideaaa (only if you want ofc no pressure !!)

yk how we got to see nash’s bachelor party, you could write a fic about how the girls celebrated with libby ?

OKAYYY (this is so late i apologize im super lazy 😭🙏🙏) (also just pretend that max came back from college to visit bc she’s in this)

——————————————————————————

“Soon to be bride is in the house!” Max yelled, popping open a champagne bottle. They were all in Libby’s room, since she had just told them about her engagement, and Max thought we had to celebrate. Avery raised a brow, her face still coated with disbelief from the news of the proposal.

“Max, do you even drink?” She asked her. Max stopped hooting for a second to look down at the bottle in her hand.

“Well, no. I just wanted to open the bottle since it’s a once in a lifetime experience. I was kind of hoping you guys would drink it?” She said, lifting a shoulder in a half shrug. Avery snorted, and Libby suppressed a laugh.

“Cmon. There has to be something we can do to celebrate other than open champagne bottles that we wont drink.” Libby said. Avery smiled.

“I have some ideas. But Libby, you may need to take off your ring for it.” Avery said, with a mischievous smile. Libby smiled back at her with curiosity in her eyes as she took off her ring and tucked it safely in a drawer, and Max was now wearing a grin.

“Fax yeah! Let’s make this the best bachelorette party that has ever walked this earth!” She shouted, pumping her fists into the air.

—————————————

Avery had taken Libby and Max into the grand foyer, with a smile on her face. She had requested that they change into their swimsuits, and when Libby stepped onto the hard tiled floor barefoot, she noticed that it was covered in soap and water. Then, Avery handed her and Max water guns. Max hooted, but Libby was more curious.

“Are we allowed to do this? Do the house helpers know?” She asked Avery. Avery nodded.

“In fact, they need this place squeaky clean for some important guests that are coming tomorrow,” Avery smiled mischievously. “And I thought I’d help. I only put enough soap so that the floors would be slippery, but not too much to create a mess. As you spray the water though, the soap will get more and more slippery. If you fall without anybody spraying you with water you can stay up, but if you get sprayed and fall then you’re down. May the best water gun fighter win.” She walked as quickly as she could to a corner of the grand foyer, and Max, with a determined grin on her face, took off in another direction. Libby was left there. She smiled mischievously, crouching behind a corner.

“3!” Libby heard Max shout. “2! 1! Go!” Libby stayed in her spot for a moment more, but took off when she saw Max leave hers. She tried to run as carefully as she could, what with the soap, but was still wobbly. Max was horrific at this, slipping and tumbling every 5 seconds, but then she got up and stayed up. With a determined expression on her face, she sprayed her gun at Libby. Libby took a step back, before promptly falling on her butt. Max let out a victory battle cry before taking off in Averys direction. Avery had decided to wait and let them fight it out before coming out herself. It was a heated fight between the two, with Max almost falling down a good ten times and Avery getting endless amounts of water sprayed in her face, before she and Max got closer. Max sprayed her in the face with water, and Avery, with her eyes closed, finally slipped and fell. She hit the ground with a groan and Max yelled out her victory battle cry once again.

“Woo! Im the best water gun fighter to have ever walked this earth!” She yelled, pumping her fist and doing a weird little dance. She pointed at Avery and Libby in a bragging style and kept hooting. Avery, who met Libby’s eyes from farther away in the foyer, raised a brow at her. Libby knew what she was asking. Libby nodded, a sly smile on her face, and Avery suddenly grabbed Max’s pointed finger and pulled her to the ground. Max yelped, before falling on her stomach. Avery and Libby both erupted with laughter at the look on Max’s face, and once she was done brooding, Max started laughing too. Then, from across the hall, Oren walked in through a door and saw all three of us laughing on the floor, with water guns and bathing suits. He had a weird expression on his face, and Libby realized suddenly that he didn’t see the water and soap on the ground. Avery and Libby were both suddenly yelling the same warnings to Oren about the soap, when he took a step and tumbled to the ground himself. Avery and Libby both gasped with shock and froze, but Max, who hadn’t stopped laughing since her fall, started laughing harder. Oren got up a second later, and with a dangerous expression on his face, called out to the three of us in a tone that made Max stop laughing.

“Get over here. Now.”

————————————

“I can’t believe how immature you three are acting. Oh, and I expect you all to clean up the foyer once you clean yourselves up first.” Oren said, finally done his lecture. He walked us to Averys room and we nodded before entering. But once we were in, Max stuck her head out of the door, checking to see if Oren was gone.

“Good, he’s gone.” She said, sticking her head back in and turning to us. “This bachelorette party is no where near done. Not when I just got a good idea of what we can do next.” She said, a wicked smile on her face. Avery raised a brow.

“It better not be too crazy. Oren will lock us in our rooms for the rest of the night if we keep this up.” Avery said. Max rolled her eyes, and waved a hand through the air.

“Don’t worry about it Aves. Oren will not stop my creative juices from flowing! Besides, this one will be less messy.” She said, reassuringly. Avery nodded, and Libby smiled before speaking.

“Bring it on, then.”

————————————

Max took them to the pottery room while they were all still in their bikinis, as she claimed that “everything’s more entertaining in your bathing suit”. When they reached there, Max held up a picture of a penguin shaped bowl that took her about a minute to print before they left.

“What we are doing here today, beaches, is a moulding contest. Whoever can create the most accurate penguin shaped bowl has a favour over the other two losers that they can redeem at anytime. I will be calling my brother and making him the judge.” Max said, before walking over to her pottery station. “You have 30 minutes. May the best pottery-moulder-person-whatever win!” Avery walked over to her station, and Libby walked over to hers. With a smile on her face, Libby knew she had this one in the bag. Nobody knew this, not even Avery, but in high school she used to be very talented at pottery, and could make all different types of things. But she hoped that her talent was still there. Max counted to three, and suddenly they were all grabbing a chunk of clay and getting to work. Libby was struggling a bit at first, but then muscle memory took over and each movement was more easy, and suddenly the clay felt as easy to mold as play-doh. Libby looked up for a moment to glance at Max and Avery, and held back a snort. They were not doing so good, and Avery’s very oddly shaped bowl kept falling apart. With a determined smile, Libby kept working on her bowl. 25 minutes later, Max’s alarm went off.

“That’s time!” She said, using her nose to turn off the alarm as her hands were dirty. Avery looked up from her bowl to scan Max’s and then Libby’s, before immediately sighing.

“Y’know, I thought I had a chance with Max, but Libby’s going to win this thing 100%.” She said with a smile, in an exasperated tone. Max looked away from Avery to look at Libby’s bowl and immediately gasped.

“Libby! Why is your bowl so cute?! This is rigged, my penguin bowl looks like a deformed manatee and spongebob squarepants had a crusty baby.” Max admitted with a groan. This time Libby couldn’t hold back her snort, and even Avery started laughing.

“Well, let’s call up Isaac.” Avery said.

——————————————

Max called her brother as we all stood around her, already knowing who was going to win. Isaac picked up.

“What do you want?” He said right away.

“Wow, not even hello? Well, what I want is for you to judge our pottery contest, and see whose penguin bowl is the best.” She replies. Isaac makes a face, but Libby was sure that he was used to getting weird requests like this from his sister.

“Uh, sure, but why are you in a bikini?” He asks her.

“Doesn’t matter! Now, which one is the best; mine, Libby’s, or Avery’s?” She flips the camera over and shows all of ours. Isaac makes judgy sounds until the camera lands on Libby’s.

“The last one by far. I’m pretty sure I can already tell which one’s yours, which is the worst one, but the one on the far left is probably Averys.” He speaks louder, as if trying to get Avery to hear better. “Avery, you trying to make a bowl or a straw?” Libby and Max giggle but Avery groans.

“Wow Isaac, cut the hate.” She replies. Isaac snorts.

“Well, I’m guessing the last one’s Libby’s. She 100% won.” Isaac says. Libby pumps her fist and sticks her tongue out at Avery and Max. Max hurries a “goodbye” and, “thank you for nothing you beach” to her brother before hanging up and sharing odd looks with Avery.

“These favours aren’t for free, y’know? They come with a cost.” Max said, with a mischievous grin. Then, her and Avery both grab the softened clay that was falling apart in their hands on the desk and throw it at Libby. Libby shrieks and runs to hide behind the desk, but grabs more pieces of clay to retaliate. And there on forward, more and more pieces of clay were being thrown at each other until we had clay in our hair, on our skin, and in our bikinis too.

“Ugh, add this to the list of things that we’ll have to clean up.” Libby says, picking a chunk of clay off her arm. Then, an idea hits her like a wave and she smiles.

“What?” Avery asks, recognizing the look in her eyes.

“I think I have an idea for one last thing.” She says. Max and Avery both watch her, and with a smile on her face Libby explains the last thing that they would be doing for her bachelorette party. Max and Avery faces both glowed with excitement, and Libby couldn’t hold back her smile either.

“Yes! One last fun thing to end off this fun night, beaches!” Max hooted.

—————————————

Max, Avery, and Libby all waited for Thea to finally come out of the maze, all of them still in their bikinis and weirdly enough, holding a giant horn. There was a slight breeze as it was getting dark, but other than that it was the perfect weather. When she finally came out, Max, Avery, and Libby all cheered.

“You all owe me,” She said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “But being able to picture you guys running around a hedge maze like crazy women in your bikinis is favourable enough.” She said. Libby snorted and thanked Thea, to which she nodded back. Once she had walked away, Libby turned back towards Max and Avery and explained the rules of the game.

“It’s pretty simple. Thea hid 5 different objects that are going to be scattered around the maze; A stuffed rabbit, a hand-crafted gold sphere, a tiny globe, a small present box with nothing inside, and a pen holder.” Libby said. Avery raised a brow.

“And I’m guessing you found all of these things last minute?” Avery asked. Max giggled and Libby rolled her eyes, amused.

“Yeah, whatever. When you get an item, blow the horn. Nash found them online, and believe me, they’re loud enough.” Libby paused to let them try it, and they both did, taken aback by how loud it was. She continued speaking. “Once all 5 items are found, we leave the maze and see who got the most objects. Does that make sense?” Max and Avery both nodded, and Libby nodded back at them, pulling them towards the entrance of the maze.

“3!” Libby shouted. “2! 1! Go!” And at the last second, she blew the horn. They all ran off in opposite directions, Libby going for the middle whereas Max and Avery’s went for the sides. She ran around for about 2 minutes, going left and right, when she finally found an item. The globe. Libby dove for it, although it wasn’t like anyone else was going to get it as she was alone, and grabbed it. She blew the horn as loud as she could before quickly getting up and running off. Seconds after she blew it though, another horn went off. Probably Avery, Libby thought. She ran around more, taking different turns and twists, and heard another horn go off. There were just two more objects left to find. Finally, after running around and panting like a dog, Libby heard another horn go off. After a minute, another one went off too, marking it as the last object found. Libby huffed with her one object, and made her way to what she thought was the exit. It took her 5 minutes, but finally she found the entrance. When she got out, Avery and Max were already out there, and to nobody’s surprise, Avery won. She had a whopping 3 objects, whereas Max and Libby only had 1. Avery grinned, and held her objects up like a trophy.

“I won.” She said, matter-of-factly. Max and Libby sighed, while holding only one object.

“You may have won this one, but I won the first challenge!” Max said, crossing her arms with a smile.

“And I won the second one.” Libby added. Then, Libby’s stomach suddenly growled.

“Should we take that as our cue to head back?” Avery asked. Libby and Max nodded, and they started to walk back towards the house.

Finally they reached the house and walked into the kitchen, laughing and talking about their last minute bachelorette party, when they suddenly heard voices.

“Libby? What the hell?” Libby could recognize that drawl anywhere. She looked up and saw Nash, as well as Grayson, Xander, and Jameson, and they were all staring at them with a shocked expression. Nash and Grayson were ogling at them, Jameson blew out a laugh, and Xander suddenly started barking out laughing as well. It took all of them a moment to realize why they were laughing, and they instantly understood once they looked down and saw their bathing suits, with clay and soap all over them. Max placed her hands on her hips, smiling proudly.

“What the H-E double hockey sticks, is that we managed to accomplish the best bachelorette party that this faxing house will ever see.” She said. Xander raised a brow at her, a grin clear on his face.

“I love this girl! Although I do have to ask, what’s with the soap and bikinis?” Xander asked Max. She beamed back before complying.

“Soap and water gun fight in the grand foyer,” She said, with a half shrug. “I won.”

“And the clay?” Nash asked, raising a brow at Libby and expecting an answer from her. She smiled.

“Pottery competition to see who can create the best penguin bowl that led to a clay throwing fight,” Libby said. “I won that one.” Nash gave her a goofy look, before holding her gaze with a look in his eyes that said ‘you’re going to need to tell me about this pottery talent of yours later.’

“And what’s with all these objects you’re holding?” Jameson asked with a snort. Avery smiled a great, big smile, and Libby would be lying if she didn’t notice how Jamesons eyes softened at the look.

“Maze treasure hunt for 5 different objects,” Avery said, smiling proudly at the junk she saw as trophies in her hands. “I won.” Graysons lips lifted by the slightest hair, before he turned his gaze to Libby.

“And why are you the only one covered in dirt?” Grayson asked her. She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes playfully.

“I will admit, that maze did have a lot of loose patches of dirt that I kept tripping on.” She sullenly said. Max and Avery both snorted out a laugh, meanwhile the brothers just smiled. Suddenly, an idea hit Libby, one that involved her favour from earlier.

“Oh, Jamie, Xan, Nash, and Gray, I forgot to mention, but I did earn a favour from these two by winning the pottery competition.” Libby said, turning to them. They all stared at her attentively, and Libby just barely held back her sinister smile. “Would it be okay if I could get a favour from you 4 instead?” She made sure to make her tone as innocent as possible, so they wouldn’t get suspicious. Xander beamed.

“Of course! Anything for our new sister in law!” He said with a grin. Libby finally allowed her sinister smile to show.

“Great. Well, me and the girls did make a bit of a mess with the bachelorette party, so if you could clean up the foyer and pottery room for us that would be great, thank you!” Libby said. She watched the realization of what she had done wash over the boys’ faces, before grabbing Avery and Max’s hands and running off.

“Woo!! Best bachelorette party ever!” Max hooted, with Avery surprisingly hooting too. And with her heart soaring like an eagle in the sky, Libby cheered with them.

——————————————————————————

IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SUCH A LONG TIME TO MAKE AND ITS VERY LONG, I WAS STRUGGLING ON WHAT I WAS GOING TO MAKE THE LAST “CHALLENGE” FOR LIKE WEEKS BEFORE I THOUGHT UP THE HEDGE MAZE ONE LIKE YESTERDAY 😭😭😭 BUT ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!! <33

[guyfieriii]

New Person, Same Old Mistakes (Part II)

Little snapshots into Carmy and MC's friendship when they finally meet again.

Part I, Part III and Part IV

When you see Carmy again, it’s exactly when you don’t want to. 

Hey! Never heard back from you so I figured I’d-

No. Sounds too passive-aggressive.

The weeks bled into months and you couldn’t get him out of your mind. The few times you walked past Eleven Madison, you held your breath in the hopes of seeing him again. You’d make it seem like a coincidence, not like you hadn’t purposefully taken an 8-block detour just to catch a glimpse of him.

Hey Carmy! There’s this food festival in the village and-

No. Too fucking eager.

A part of you was embittered over the fact that the first decent date you’d had in months still ended the way all of them did. In abject fucking disappointment. Another part, the one that reared its ugly head with every occurrence of your insufficiency. You battle with it every time you fail at something — it always wins. 

I really had a good time. Was it just me? Did you not-

No. It clearly was just me.

The final part of you, the semi-logical one, the one that is at its most limited every time you have your heart broken — it interjects with another thought. Maybe Carmy just wasn’t meant to date. You could tell he was isolated, just like you. In his case, it seemed like it was by choice. Maybe he’s not in that place in his life to let someone else in.

Or maybe something happened. 

Hi. Are you okay?

You never got a response. 

You find him crouched in the alleyway near the bodega, still in his chef whites with a cigarette in his hand. His bandaged hand. As you step closer you see blood stains down the front of his jacket. You stop a few feet ahead of him, he hasn’t noticed you. He takes a long drag, eyes focused on the brick wall ahead. 

You should just walk away. Turn back around and pretend you never saw him, but your feet are planted firmly on the pavement. You don’t step any closer, just watch him from where you are. You watch him take lengthened drag after drag, wafts of smoke engulfing him with every exhale. It hangs heavily, just like the desolation that clings to him. He is utterly defeated, it’s imbued in his posture, and yet there’s still this underlying tension beneath it all — back hunched against the wall, but his shoulders are taut, still. His hand shakes as he brings the cigarette to his lips, the other is firmly clenched in a fist atop his knee. It’s almost as though he won’t allow himself to fall in deeper into whatever this moment of despair is. He’ll let himself feel it just enough to ease the pain of holding it inside, but not let it take over. 

It’s a feeling you’re all too familiar with. You can never show all your cards, not even to yourself. That way the lie remains, and you haven’t given up. You still remain the pillar of resilience you think yourself to be.

You stand and watch. You watch him maintain half a façade, an incomplete betrayal of his own self-expectations. In a way, it makes you feel better seeing him this way. Not thriving, just barely surviving. Much like yourself. 

When he finally looks up and sees you, he blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice. As if to make sure you’re really there. His expression is blank, but his eyes are clouded in shame. You wonder if it’s over the fact that he never texted back or over the state in which you’ve found him. 

The latter, in all probability. 

You finally close the distance between you, not speaking a word as you crouch down beside him. You hold your hand out for his cigarette and he promptly offers it to you. 

“You smoke?” His voice is tight, choked. You see his Adam’s apple bob with a swallow after he speaks and he clears his throat. 

“Haven’t since high school.“ You take a drag, wincing as you inhale. The metallic taste of the tar coats your tongue as you blow out the smoke. “Really wanted to be one of them cool kids.”

You had hoped to make him laugh, but the joke doesn’t stick. Handing the cigarette back to him, you keep your eyes forward. Neither of you speaks, passing the cigarette between each other. He lights another. Then another. You smoke half the pack in complete silence, for which you are grateful. The quiet is better than him asking you to leave him be. Maybe your company is a balm to soothe whatever kind of day he’s had. Even if your presence is reduced to a form of momentary comfort, you’ll take it. 

“I’m sorry—” He finally speaks. You know why he’s apologizing and it’s not because of the state you’ve caught him in. 

“It’s alright—” There’s no point in pretending, beating around the bush with the obligatory feigned confusion most people would comply with in a situation like this. 

“No, I just-“ He finally turns to look at you, but you remain facing forward. You somehow know that if you meet his eyes, the very same ones you haven’t been able to stop thinking about, you’ll be caught in them, unable to escape.

Not that you ever wanted to.

“It’s alright, Carmy. Really.” 

“It’s not. I should have—”

“You should have. But you didn’t, and it’s okay. I’m over it.”

You’re really not, though. 

“O-okay.” The two of you fall back into wordless silence, and it’s fucking uncomfortable. 

“What happened to your hand?” You ask, eventually. 

“Cut it.”

“Fucking obviously. How did you cut it?”

“I— uh. Dunno.” He mutters under his breath.

“What?” You reach out to take his hand in your own and examine the way it’s been shoddily wrapped in gauze. The cut was a deep one, you can tell by how it’s already stained his bandage in blood. 

“I don’t know how I cut it. Can’t remember.” 

You turn to look at him in irritation but your snappy retort dies at your lips when you see ignominy brimming in his eyes at his confession. 

He’s telling the truth. 

You’re on your feet in an instant. “Let’s go.” You offer him a hand to stand back up. 

“Wha-“ 

“Whoever wrapped your hand—”

“I did.”

“Yeah, well. You did an awful fucking job.”

That finally earns you a laugh. It’s more of a sardonic cough of one than an actual laugh but it fills you with an innate sense of accomplishment, regardless.

“Let’s get it fixed up, yeah? There’s a 24-hour pharmacy a couple blocks ahead.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” 

“Why?” He blurts out and you know he instantly regrets it.

“Because you’re—“ You’re sad and hurt and it pains me to see you this way and I want to fix it. Let me fix it, Carmy.

“Because you’re my friend.” You say instead. 

“You hardly know me.” He looks entirely appalled at your statement. It’s adorable. 

Whose fucking fault is that, asshole?

“I’d like to. Is that okay?” You pray to God that it is. 

“Yeah.” He responds and you hope the look of utter relief on your face isn’t too obvious. 

This time, it sticks. 

It takes time, but eventually the two of you form a routine of spending Carmy’s one day off together. It’s usually at his apartment — you spare him a trip to Brooklyn with the little time that he has to himself. 

The first time he takes you home, it’s a few days after you’d run into him in the alleyway. It’s exactly what you’d expected. A barebones studio with just the necessities it takes to survive. It was a place to sleep and nothing more. 

A mattress without a bed frame pushed against the far wall, with a tiny end table beside it. A clothes rack against the wall opposite, a variety of denim hanging off, a few white t-shirts, and the one patterned wool jacket. There are a couple boots and a set of kitchen shoes laying on the floor below. Behind one of his boots, you’d noticed a picture of a storefront and two boys. One was much taller than the other standing underneath the sign that read ‘The Original Beef Of Chicagoland’.

It’s not been discarded in a corner. No.

It’s been intentionally set aside. 

You’d ask him about it later. 

The timing you eventually pick couldn’t be worse than if you had just asked him point blank on that day.

There was a small TV on a dresser in the little living area with a battered couch. The kind you’d find in a suburban New Jersey home in the ’80s covered. One arm of it was covered in cigarette burns. 

“I—uh. Fall asleep with a lit cigarette sometimes.” He explained when he saw you looking. 

His kitchen was practically empty from what you could see at first glance. Not what you’d expect from a chef at one of the best restaurants in the world. 

What gave him away were the piles of books at the foot of his bed. You had examined a few of them while waiting for him to get himself situated. You’d made it to his apartment sooner than he’d expected and he was still caught in the middle of cleaning it.

“It’s a bit messy but—”

“It’s fine, Carmy.”

“Just sit down and I’ll finish—”

“Relax, Carmy.”

“I need to grab a—”

“Take a breath, Carmy.”

“Okay.”

You were in the middle of perusing ‘Tartine Bread’ when he was finally done cleaning — which mostly involved getting rid of his many empty cans of Coke and cleaning out his ashtrays.

“It was written by the owner of a bakery in SF.” He explained as you turned over another page. He settled down on his bed beside you, awkwardly setting a little distance between the two of you and he edged sideways. You think back to your date, and how you'd imagined yourself in bed under entirely different circumstances.

Maybe, you could—

You let him walk you through the rest of his collection. You watched his anxiety gradually dissipate as he pulled out book after book, turning to pages he had bookmarked with order chits from work. 

All you could do was listen with rapt attention as he spoke about thermoreversible gelling agents.

“A co-worker was trying to gelatinize this plum consomée. He tried LM-pectin — the, uh, kind you get in citrus fruits.”

And the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. “That’s really cool. I’d say more if I knew what plum consu-“

“Consumée.”

“Yeah, that. If I knew what that was.”

“Well, that’s just black plums cooked down in black vinegar—”

Eventually, the two of you were sprawled on his couch, open books in between you, boxes of Chinese takeout on the coffee table in front. 

You were eating out of his one plate while he ate straight out of the carton.

“Who has just one plate, a glass, and a set of cutlery?!” 

“You’re the first person I’ve had over.”

You held the memory of that like a prize in the back of your mind. Like a polished trophy you display on a mantle. 

A trophy you’d often reach for in the future.

When you returned the week after, there were two sets of plates, glasses, and cutlery in his kitchen. 

You’re desperate to solidify your friendship with him, despite the clear fact that neither of you has anyone else outside of the other. 

The more time you spend with him, you realize that the biggest pillar of your relationship with Carmy is built in loneliness and desperation. His being the prior and yours the latter. It’s imperfect and it hurts but it’s all you have so for now it’s enough. 

There’s something the matter with him. More so than usual. Every passing week you see him grow more embittered and hollow — you want to know why. So you can make it better. You’re desperate to turn the tide on whatever made him this way.

“You, um. Are you good?” You mutter one evening on a walk

“Yeah.” It’s all he says. He doesn’t look at you. Maybe he’s catching on to just how easy it is to read him when he does. 

His eyes - so blue it’s like they’re the home to Aether himself, are cloudy now. Not the pools you could once swim in. They’ve stilled. They’ve hardened. They’ve dulled. Almost matte, now. 

He won’t tell you on his own, and you can’t push. Not yet. Not when he’s still fidgety and you’re still—

Next best thing, then.

A distraction. 

“That would never work.”

“Can you just watch this and try to enjoy—”

“No I can’t, because it would never work.” He interjects frustratedly. 

“Carm.”

“Look. They didn’t get the pork belly in the oven early enough. The temp’s too fucking high. The fat’s going to render unevenly and too quickly. And the meat’s going to be dry.” You watch him repeatedly tap his spoon between his thumb and forefinger, eyes focused on the TV.

“I am never watching a cooking show with you ever again.” 

“Also their reduction wasn’t cooked down enough. It’s fucking watery.”

“Never. Again.”

“These idiots aren’t making it past this round. We’re watching the next one?”

You sigh.

“Yes.”

Whenever you visit his fridge is almost always empty. The only contents are a jar of peanut butter—and almond for you; grape jelly and now a raspberry jam. And, taking up far too much space, a case of Coke and your favourite sour.

However, the few times he’s cooked for you, the two of you go shopping together. He’s precise, fussing over ingredients—it all has to be the best when it’s for you. Only proving that he’s not averse to shopping, just for himself. 

Something you’ve noticed is just how he is. 

He’ll make allowances for himself. He lets you in just enough to see them through the fracture in the wall. When it's for you, it can’t be less than perfect. It can’t be half-measured. 

Chefs strive for perfection. A pristine, unblemished, and synchronized plate of flavours, textures, and colours.

It’s a line from the one book he let you borrow.

Carmy needs perfection purely out of the need to prove himself. 

Your mind goes back to the photo behind his boots. 

“Why can’t we just get the halibut from the Trader Joe’s on 6th?”

“It’s not fresh.”

“I don’t care if it’s—”

“There’s a fish market in Greenwich Village—”

“It’s a 25 minute walk and it’s fucking cold, Carm—”

“Take my jacket.”

You love to watch him cook. You’re almost entirely focused on his hands. The way they grip the knife, the way his wrists rock back and forth. He’ll always have two towels on either shoulder. The left one to grab the handle of a skillet, the right to wipe his hands. There’s a deli container of water and a few spoons in it that he’ll use to taste as he goes. Every now and then a spoon gets lifted to your lips when you’re seated on the counter behind him. 

“Salt?” He’ll ask.

“It’s good.” You say and he’ll smile. 

When you return a week or so later you find his fridge empty once again.

“What the fuck do you eat when I’m not here?” You finally ask him.

“I—“ He runs his fingers through his hair, still wet from the shower. Droplets hang off the ends at the nape of his neck and drip down the sides. You fight the urge to reach out and wipe them off. 

With your tongue. 

Maybe you could—

“A PB n’ J with a bag of chips and a coke?” 

“It’s quick.” He simply shrugs.

That just won’t do. 

He offers you his spare keys, one week. 

“My — work’s been crazy. I might not be here when you — I just don’t want you to have to wait—”

“Thanks, Carm.”

You take the opportunity to let yourself in one evening, groceries in hand. A couple of sirloins, potatoes, eggs, butter and tarragon for Bearnaise. You found a YouTube tutorial that seemed legit enough to imitate. 

He walked in to find you flipping steaks over the stove, just stood in his doorway for a whole minute before asking—

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

“What does it look like?”

“It looks like you’re fucking over a nice piece of steak.” He’s at your side, taking the pair of tongs out of your hands, and slipping the towels off your shoulders. 

“I am— No I’m not!”

“It’s not seared well enough to flip yet.” He elbows you out of the way. 

“The pan was hot enough.” You try to push back in, but he’s standing firm against the stove.

“That’s not the only thing—” He finally flips over the steak and it’s a lot darker than what you thought it needed to be.

“I waited for the thing you said — what was it? Meller’s reaction—”

“Maillard reaction.” A knob of butter goes in the skillet and he tilts it as it lathers. 

“Yeah, that.”

“Just lemme—“ He picks a spoon out of the deli container you had set up and bastes the steak. 

“Can’t a girl cook a piece of steak in peace? I’m hungry, Carm.” 

“I’ll feed you your fucking steak. Get out of my kitchen.”

You take your customary seat on the counter behind him. “Is the Bearnaise okay, at least?”

“No. The emulsion’s split.” He takes the steak off the heat and lays it on the wired rack you had prepped on the side.

“Fuck.”

“I’ll fix it, Chef.”

You pause, with your key still in the door. You hear voices. Carmy’s, of course, and a woman’s. They’re arguing. It’s heated. You can’t make the words out, but you can tell it’s a fight. 

Carmy has a woman over. 

And you can’t seem to move away from the door. 

Is she an ex? Is she someone he’s currently seeing? Is she—

His door flies open and he’s there. He looks like he’s gotten caught.

“I—” You don’t know what to say. I’m sorry? I didn’t know you had company? Who the fuck’s the blonde?

“You’re—” You’re here. You’re not supposed to be here. You’re not wanted here. 

“I’m sorry Carm, I—”

“Just come in and—”

“No it’s fine I’ll—”

“You’re—”

“Christ, you two are perfect for each other.” The blonde finally speaks. 

“This is my sister, Natalie.” Carmy pinches the bridge of his nose. “Natalie, this is—“

“The girl you won’t shut up about.” You look at her closely and see the resemblance. “You can call me Sugar.”

It’s his sister. His fucking sister.

“Bear, fuck’s sake. Let her in.”

And you’re the girl he doesn’t shut up about.

You pull your keys out of the door and follow him in. “I’m really not wanting to intrude—”

“You’re not.” He says definitively. “Sugar was just on her way out.”

“More like Carm was kicking me out.” She snaps back. 

“Can we not do this right now, in front of her?”

“I thought she was your—”

“Nat.”

“What? Isn’t she?”

You feel a little uncomfortable with them having this decoded little conversation about you as if you’re not even there.

You’re Carmy’s what—?

“Can you tell him it’s fucking time for him to come home for a bit?” She turns to look at you. 

“Don’t fucking talk over me like I’m not here.” Carmy’s voice raises a bit.

Bit of a double standard there, buddy.

“Ma’s been asking for you. And Mickey—”

Mickey. The picture. The one that’s hidden. 

“Sugar.” He warns.

“What?! Why can’t I talk about this in front of her? She’s your girlfriend, isn’t she?”

“She’s not my fucking girlfriend, so can you just drop it?!” He yells and you flinch.

An uncomfortable silence settles between the three of you. It’s stifling. Your throat closes up and you’re unable to speak. Sugar looks at you in a way that can only be described as pity and Carmy won’t meet your eyes. 

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, and try to take in a deep breath. Just allow some more air to reach your lungs. If you can breathe, you can think. Process. Recover. You manage one, enough of a gulp that it frees something. It unties the knot that was twisting itself behind your ribs, and you can let your shoulders rise, and stand a bit straighter. 

You’re hurt, but you’re not surprised. You knew him. You were allowed the rare chance to peer into him and see who he was. From that, you knew what he’d given you thus far was all he could. You know what you had was more than he’d likely have given anyone in a while. 

It wasn’t perfect. It was less that what you wanted, but more than what you deserved. You were different, special — and that was enough. As fucked as it was.

It’s alright. You’re just—

The next best thing.

And that’s alright.

“I’m just a friend.” You finally manage to find your voice, but it’s still a choked whisper. 

Neither of them say a thing. They know it’s a lie, but to acknowledge it would just be cruel. You suppose you should be grateful. 

Unrequited love hurts a lot less when you don’t if you don’t think about it. It’s a bit of a Catch-22. You bury the love deep within, hoping it doesn’t leak through the cracks it’s formed by taking its place. At the same time, it’s not the kind of love you want to cease to remember. Even if it’s one-sided, it’s offered you more than what you can give yourself. So you don’t think about it, but neither do you let yourself forget. You’ve managed quite well up until this point. 

Sugar says her goodbyes eventually. She pulls Carmy into a hug and says, “Just call. You don’t have to come home, but just-”

“I will.” He promises. 

You know he won’t. 

You don’t stay much longer once she’s gone. The two of you do what you usually do — he cooks, you watch. You’ll set a cooking show up on his TV and he’ll explain away all the things they’re doing wrong. You sit there and indulge him with a facsimile of the smile you have on, it’s just not genuine. 

You wonder if he can tell. 

You keep the smile plastered on until you leave. Until there’s a safe enough distance between you and him, and finally you can allow yourself to break. 

You wonder if he does the same. 

You good?

Yeah, Carm. I’ll see you next week. 

Tag list : @soapskneebrace @frenzycrazy

[gx-gameon]

DM power point party

My friends and I have done one to many power point parties recently. (An excellent time highly recommend)

But it got me thinking about the DM crew and what they would do for a power point party. Because all it is is info dumping about whatever you want.

Téa: different styles of dance and why you should learn.

Complete with demonstrations.

She makes them all try at least one dance move.

Tristan: which duel monsters I could beat in a fist fight.

He goes hard.

It’s a complete guide of the monsters attack and defense points, as well as any flavor text.

He then says if he would fight them or not “I wouldn’t fight Dark Magician because he’s Yugi’s ace and he wouldn’t fight me, Battle Ox on the other hand is Kaiba’s monster and I’m punching it in the face.”

He tends to states if he could win or not. Some of them are wild over estimations of his own strength but it’s all in good fun.

Yugi: the game I think represents each of you best.

He’s gone through and matched their personalities with different board games.

Some are based on the way they think. Kaiba is strategic so he would get get chess (he would also be low key upset if he didn’t get chess or Duel monsters) although you could also give him a resource management game like Catan, I’d be scared to play Catan with Kaiba

Others are based on vibe alone.

Téa gets a corporative game where the players have to work together to win (something like Magic Maze; a great game!)

Joey would probably also get a team game or a corporative game. He is competitive but he also loves his friends and is very loyal.

This maybe a creative ploy to try and get the others to play more board games with him (as some one who loves board games I approve)

Joey: ranking all the people I’ve dueled by how much they annoy me.

He’s poking fun at everyone. It’s light hearted for the most part, and is not based on any skill.

It’s mostly so he poke fun at Rex, Wevil, and Kaiba who is not impressed.

Joey ranks them from most annoying to least annoying.

Mai takes third. She’s his friend but she can drive him mad in a duel.

“Second is the Pharaoh, you’re always respectful and dramatic but there is one person better than you” Yugi is siting their confused because who’s better thank the Pharaoh but Yami/Atem already knows the answer

The winner is a Yugi his best friend and least annoying person. “Yug’s the best person to duel and my favorite buddy.”

Yami/Atem: Which duel monsters card represent you all best

He knows exactly which monster is their spirit card

He might give 3 option and let them pick their favorite.

He knows what their soul card is but it’s fun for him to give them the option to pick and watch them pick their soul card every time.

Other ideas for Atem

Why I love all of you

Very sweet, thank you Atem.

Yugi would do this to.

modern day things that still confuse me.

It’s actually really fun as he puts things on the screen to tell his friends what he first thought each item was/did

Alternatively if this is after he has his memories “things that would send my Egyptian friends into a coma.”

But it’s Grandpa who’s gets everyone.

He video calls Prof Hawkins in. The Professor was more than happy to do a short power point about his research.

He finishes and asks Solomon what his presentation is. He’s expecting his old friend to do something about games

Solomon smirks as he opens his slides

Why my grandchildren are better than yours

Grandchildren? Let him explain

The next slide is a picture of Yugi “my grandson, the King of Games”

The next slide a picture of Yami/Atem “my other grandson, he was once the Pharaoh of Egypt.”

Atem is greatly touched by the sentiment, but it’s the next slide that gets everyone.

The next slide is a picture of Joey, Téa and Tristian “my adopted grandchildren, Joey is a world class duelist I should know I taught him myself! Téa is going to be a world renowned dancer! And Tristian is an incredible mechanic and sharp shooter (according to the manga) I’m so proud of them.”

The whole group is shocked. Solomon goes along with his presentation, it’s just him boasting about all of their accomplishments to Arthur.

Joey is in tears by the end. “You think of me as your grandson?”

Yugi just smiles at him “of course he does, you’re family.”

[mischivana]

History is Written by the Winners

hi this is my first ever piece of writing, please be kind. a prompt list is to come soon so I can start taking requests. NOT PROOF READ!!

Masterlist

Jason Grace x Nike!Reader

warnings: none that I can think of :)

I lurked in the woods, deep in the treetops watching carefully where I stepped to make sure I didn't fall or attract too much attention by disrupting the branches. Being the daughter of Nike, I’m pretty quick on my feet and always kinda knew where they were. Victory is my game and I'm going to win no matter what.

I stalked through the trees looking for the other team's flag, it was Athena vs Hermes, when a strong gust of wind knocked me out of the trees. I was stunned for a moment as a swirled through the air before I landed flat on the ground on the edge of Zeus’s fist.

After I regained myself and quickly drew my sword, I looked around to see who my attacker was even though I’d already known. There was only one demigod at this camp who had the ability to control the winds. Son of Jupiter and love of my life, Jason Grace.

I looked at him with a cheeky grin. I knew Annabeth would put him on the front defense because she knew I would come straight for the flag and he could see through my strategy. Gods, sometimes I hate that she’s my best friend.

He chuckled and gave me a sly grin, his javelin at the ready. “You’re quick on your feet Trophy, but not quick enough,” he said. Trophy, that was his nickname for me. Not only because of my mother but because I beat him at almost every competition we ever had. He always said there was another reason, he never told me what though.

“What’s up Sparky? Care to let me get that flag?” I said with a small laugh. “Not a chance Trophy” he said. I lunged at him and our weapons met. My sword clashed against the base of his javelin. My eyes met his and I winked to throw him off.

He weakened his stance which gave me time to push him pack with my blade. He stumbled a little and I lunged to the right, attempting to slash his leg with my blade in my left hand. He knew me though, he knew how I fought and blocked my attack.

He swiped the end of his javelin across the bottom of my feet, knocking me to the ground. I used my arms to break my fall, when I looked up I was face to face with the sharp point of an imperial bronze javelin.

I stared at him for a sec, huffing my breath. He looked down at me and said “look at this, daughter of victory lost a battle”, he laughed, “isn’t it funny?” he asked me. “What?” I asked back. “Nike is the goddess of victory but her cabin hasn’t won a single game of capture the flag?” he said. I couldn’t help but blush, he was always so hot when he fought. I smiled back at him, he may have been right, but I had a plan.

My legs were laying in between his on the ground, before he could question why I still looked so confident. I had spread my legs out in different directions, throwing his balance off and taking the chance to roll back onto my feet.

Before he could swing his javelin back at me I’d taken the hilt of my celestial bronze blade and knocked out the backs of his knees, sending him to the ground. I ran up Zeus’s Fist and grabbed the flag, Jason on my trail.

I turned around, flag in hand, and took Jason by surprise with the tip of my blade on his throat. I smiled at him, I let out a small chuckle and said “don’t you know Jase? victory is my game and I play to win. Sure, Nike has never won capture the flag. But history is written by the winners, that’ll be why you’re so surprised right now” and I bolted off leaving him standing on Zeus’s Fist.

I could tell he had started to chase after me, I heard his feet on the leaves and sticks, but being the daughter of Nike I was much faster than he was. I saw the river in the distance and ran like my life depended on it.

I jumped the river and crossed the border just in time for Jason to see. I heard Chiron blow the horn, signifying the end of the game. The other cabins came rushing to see who’d gotten the flag and my siblings tackled me with delight. Finally, the Nike cabin had a victory.

We watched as the flag changed to show a light golden banner with a pair of laurels, the symbol of my mother. I looked back at my boyfriend and saw him smiling, happy for my cabin's victory.

I handed the flag to one of my siblings and walked over to him. “I've always wondered what your other reason for calling me ‘Trophy’ was, care to share?” I asked. “I call you Trophy cause you, my love, are my greatest treasure” he responded. I planted a quick kiss on his lips and said “I love you Sparky”, “love you too Trophy” he said back as we both looked to see my siblings celebrating my cabins victory.

thanks for reading my first piece. If you have any request or pieces of advice I'm all ears!!

[tkwrites]

Second Nature - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Photos from Pinterest

Title: Second Nature

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn x Sarah

Warnings: Grief, mentions of dead parents, making out (if I missed any, let me know)

Summary: Sequel to Worth the Wait, Quinn and Sarah have their second date. Getting to know each other in many ways is like second nature.

Word count: 5,900

Comments: This took a long time to write. I caught the bug, got swamped at work, lost it and finally caught it again. I'd love to know what you think and what you'd like to see next in their little universe.

Second Nature

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Quinn woke to three messages from Sarah. They had actually been delivered in the middle of the night - at 2am. He didn't see them until he stumbled into his bathroom in the morning, but they woke him right out of his listless journey to the sink. 

Thank you for last night. It was the best first date I've ever been on. 

I’d love to come over for dinner on Saturday. 

Maybe send me your address and I'll come there and we’ll see where the night goes? 

He did celebrate this time, pumping a fist in the air. It felt like a battle won that not only she was coming to his house and they could be alone, but also that he might be able to take her home. He felt like he’d slain a giant in winning her trust. Or, at least, he was on his way. He felt outrageously victorious. 

Twenty minutes before she was supposed to arrive, his phone rang. 

“Hey.” 

“Quinn?” 

“Sarah?’

 “Yeah. Hey, it’s raining buckets out here. Do you think you could come get me from the station?” 

“Of course,” he said, putting the asparagus he’d just pulled out of the fridge back into the dish, “I’ll be right there. Can you send me a pin?” 

He washed his hands, shut off the stove and ran out of the apartment. 

When he pulled out of the parking garage, his jeep was assaulted with rain. Huge, heavy drops of it that splashed and splattered over his windshield. 

He called when he got close, and she sprinted to his idling SUV. He’d even thrown the door open for her. 

“Oh my gosh,” she said, breathless, shutting out the heavy wind and rain, “I knew it was going to rain tonight, but I didn’t think it was gonna get this bad.” 

He glanced over at her. “I’m glad you called. I wouldn’t want you walking in this mess.” 

She giggled, “how noble of you.” 

“I’m serious,” he said, turning onto his street, “you would have been soaked by the time you made it.” 

It was true, she would have been. It had been shocking to come up from the platform and find that much water in the streets. It had only been drizzling when she left less than 20 minutes before. 

After he pulled into the parking garage, and into his reserved parking space by the elevator, he sprinted around the car to open her door. 

“Thank you,” she said, blushing. It had been a long, long time since someone had made such an effort. 

He scanned into the elevator and up to the penthouse. Sarah watched the numbers count up, feeling a little dizzy when they finally stopped at twenty.

When he let her into the apartment, she was overcome. In general, Quinn seemed like a nice, really normal guy who just happened to play sports professionally for a living. Standing in this gorgeous, penthouse, though, she thought about how much money he must be making playing hockey. It was certainly much, much more than she could ever make as a zoologist. She would never dare to even dream of an apartment like this. 

Her eyes caught on the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the harbor and northern skyline. Even though everything was dark and moody outside, it made the warm, modern interior of his home feel more cozy. 

“Can I take your coat?” he asked, resting his hands on her shoulders as she looked around. Quinn loved this apartment, and it fit every bill - close to the arena, comfortable, and big enough to have a party - but at times like this when someone was gazing around in awe, it made him a bit uncomfortable. He never wanted to be better than anyone else, and didn’t think he was, but sometimes, he wondered why he was the one to deserve a top story penthouse in Gastown.

“You have such a beautiful house,” she said, still looking around at the plush dark furniture and modern, sleek lines. 

"Thanks. I can't take all the credit, though. It was furnished when I moved in." 

"Still, it's so lovely," she said, taking her bag off her shoulder. It clinked when it hit the ground. 

“Did you bring supplies?” he teased. 

“I brought wine. I wasn’t sure what you were cooking, so I bought a red and a white.” she said, turning to face him as he pulled the jacket off her arm. 

It was such a thoughtful thing for her to do that he paused for a moment before hanging her coat on the hook by the door. 

It was something out of a dream to have her in his house in her jeans and simple, blousey top. 

“I was just about to start cooking when you called, so come into the kitchen,” he said, taking her hand. 

He led her through the open concept living space that butted up to a small formal dining room before they reached the long, narrow kitchen. 

“Oh, I love your kitchen,” she said. “I've always loved a galley kitchen.”

He looked over his shoulder at her. 

“My mom was an interior designer, so we talked about this kind of stuff a lot.”

“Yeah? What does your dad do?”

“My dad was an aerospace engineer.”

“Was?” he repeated, dread filling his limbs. Surely, he was just retired. 

Her sad smile told him otherwise. “He died two years before mom did.”

Quinn set the wrapped salmon down and went to her. 

“Sarah, I'm so sorry,” he said, gathering her against him. 

“Thank you.” Accepting the embrace, she tucked her face into the curve of his neck and let him hold her. It was so rare for her to get this kind of physical affection, she relished it whenever it was offered. 

He pulled away, and looked into her face. She was so strong. How could anyone be this strong? To lose both your parents by the time you were twenty-four? He didn’t know how he’d survive. 

Suddenly, he was overcome with how much he liked her. Not just because she was pretty, which she was, but because she had so much character, so much strength in her spine. 

The red of her top made the blue in her eyes brighter and more vivid than he'd seen before. Words fell out of his mouth, "God, your eyes are pretty." 

“Thank you,” she said with a shy smile. “I really like your eyes too.”

He chuffed. “Brown. They're boring.”

She took a hold of his jaw and made him look at her. “They're not. Your eyes are the color of whiskey and I think they're really beautiful.”

A blush bloomed into his cheeks. 

"Plus, aren't they a little hazel?" she asked, studying him, "they looked kind of green on Thursday." 

He shrugged, "I've never really noticed." 

Continuing to look into his eyes, Sarah decided they were hazel. Even in the kitchen light, she could see flecks of green in them. 

Quinn was thinking about kissing her when she said, “so, how can I help?” 

“I’m cooking you dinner,” he reprimanded, “you can open the wine and talk to me.” 

A smile spread over her face. 

He handed her the corkscrew, and she got to work. When she turned around to ask for glasses, he already had them out on the counter for her. 

“So,” she did a little hop to sit on the counter next to where he was working, “how was your day?” 

“Good,” he said, “practice this morning."

“What does that look like? When you have practice in the morning, I mean.” 

“I’m usually up at 8, go to the rink and we have breakfast. Then we watch tape with some of the coaches, sometimes have a meeting, and then we’re on the ice for an hour or two. Then we have strength training, and lunch, and I’m off for the rest of the day unless we have a game.” 

“Could you teach me?” she asked. 

He looked up from snapping the ends off of the asparagus, “teach you what?” 

“About hockey. I started watching your games with my roommate Eunice, last week but I still don't really understand a lot of the rules. It’s so confusing.”

“You never watched hockey before?” he asked, feeling a corner of his mouth turn up in a smile. She had started watching for him?

“I’m from the desert. Ice hockey wasn’t really on the PE docket.” 

“And no one watched?”

“I’m sure some people did, but football was the big thing in my family. We were so thrilled when the Raiders came to Vegas, and we had our own team to cheer for.” 

“There’s a hockey team in Vegas now,” he said, his tone light and teasing. 

“I know,” she said, taking a sip of her wine. 

His eyes followed her movements, drinking in the shape of her mouth on the rim of the glass. 

“So you won’t teach me? You’re just going to let me flounder all on my own?” she teased when he didn’t answer. 

Laughing, he slid the asparagus into the oven before putting the salmon into a hot pan. It sizzled and snapped, and he stepped back to avoid getting hot oil on himself.

Once that was done, he moved to stand in front of her. 

Instinctively, her knees widened so he could stand between them.

“I’d love to teach you about hockey,” he said. 

This was ultimate flirting in Quinn’s book. Something he knew he could do. When someone wanted to talk about music, or art or classic cars, he was a fish out of water. But talking hockey? He could do that all day long. Convincing someone to like the sport he loved so much? There wasn't a more ideal situation. 

“Oh, good,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him. 

This was a perfect evening. Casual and comfortable. Cooking for someone he - liked, and kissing her whenever he wanted, taking no worry of who might be watching. 

Letting himself get swept up in the kiss, he slid his hands over her hips and tried to commit her scent to memory. No matter what happened - though he was pretty sure nothing bad was ever going to happen with Sarah - he wanted to remember this. She smelled like a dream he’d had as a boy. Like vanilla and warm skin and fireside, summer nights. It was an outlandish notion, but he couldn’t shake it. 

All her life, Sarah had read stories about star-crossed, fated lovers thrown together by chance and circumstance and serendipity. But those were all just stories. Even when her grandpa talked about meeting her grandma - like they were always meant to be together, and just had to find each other to make it happen - it seemed like folklore. A tall tale he spun to make their love story seem more epic. 

These past few weeks with Quinn made her realize how it could be possible to meet someone and decide that marrying them seven days later was a good idea. She’d never do that, but experiencing this kind of attraction first hand made her grandparents seem a little less crazy. 

She didn’t know Quinn very well, but in a way it felt like she’d somehow known him all along. Everything felt so comfortable with him.

Something popped on the stove and Quinn pulled away to check on it. His tongue darted over his plush bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth briefly as he flipped the salmon. The action made something in Sarah ache for him. 

“How was your day?” he asked. “Were you at the aquarium?” 

“No, I’m usually only there Tuesday through Friday. I was working a special shift when you came in that Monday because we had so many school field trips that day.”

They could have missed each other so easily, the fact of it made him a little dizzy. 

“I finished all my midterms on Thursday, so I actually took the weekend off. My roommates and I went to the market this morning, and then I finished a bunch of stuff I’ve been putting off because of school.” 

“So it was a good day?” he asked. 

She nodded, “better now that I'm here.” 

Quinn felt himself grin. 

“This is so good,” she said after her first bite.

“Thank you.” 

“Thank you for cooking,” she said, “It’s such a treat to get a home cooked meal.” 

His shock must have shown his face. 

She laughed, “I never have time to cook with school and work. I’m usually eating a sandwich for dinner.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. "That was my freshman year whenever I was away from the dining hall." 

“Yeah? I assumed you didn’t go to college. I thought players were drafted and that was that.” 

He shrugged. “I actually played a year of college hockey before I was drafted. Some guys don't need any extra development after the draft, my younger brother Jack didn’t. But some guys need a few years in college or the minors before they're ready.  I needed a little more development before I could come into the NHL, so I played another year at Michigan.” 

“Did you like it?”

"College?" She nodded and he continued,  "I loved it. It was time for me to move up to the NHL, but I wouldn’t have been too mad to stay there until I graduated.”

“Did you finish your degree?” she asked. 

“Yeah. In Communications.” 

“Did your mom teach you to cook?” 

Quinn couldn’t help but snort, “no.” 

Realizing how rude that sounded, he rushed to explain, “my mom is a great cook, but I really had to learn over COVID when I wasn’t allowed out.” 

“You weren’t allowed out?” she repeated. 

“They were really concerned about us getting sick, so the only time we could go out was to go to the rink or to games.”

“That sounds awful.” 

“It was, and I still got COVID twice,” he said ruefully. “So I had to learn to cook because I couldn’t go out to eat. I watched a lot of cooking shows,” he admitted with a smile.

“So what do your parents do?”

“Mom stayed at home, mostly, but she did broadcasting for women's hockey for a while before she had us kids, and dad was a development coach for a long time in the AHL and NHL.”

An amused smile spread over her lips, “so you really had no choice, did you? It was all hockey all the time in your house.” 

“I mean, my parents would have been happy with whatever we decided to do, but it was pretty impossible to avoid.” 

Her smile got bigger, and Quinn found himself smiling back. 

“When did you start playing?” 

“When I was three.” 

He jumped on a question of his own before she could get another one in, “when did you know you wanted to study the ocean?” 

Smiling, she rolled her eyes at herself. “It was a pretty classic girl who grows up in a desert, land-locked state is obsessed with what she doesn’t have. But it really kicked into gear when I moved to Hawaii after I graduated with my undergrad.” 

“Hawaii?” he asked. 

She swallowed hard and took a sip of wine, “yeah. I moved pretty soon after my dad died. I got an internship working for a conservation group on Kauai, and just kind of ran away with it,” she said. “I felt like I found my calling there in a way.” 

“Why didn’t you study there?” 

“Well, it’s really expensive to live and study in Hawaii,” she said, “and my mom died, and I found out pretty soon after that I couldn’t be that far away from my family.” 

This was the second time she’d mentioned needing to be close by family. Quinn felt like there was something she wasn’t telling him, but didn’t want to push, it would probably come out with time.  

They finished their meal in companionable conversation, getting to know each other more. He learned about her research on octopus social behavior, and she learned about some of his teammates, who were his best friends in the city. 

Sarah insisted on doing the dishes. “I may not be much of a cook, but I do know how to clean,” she said. 

Quinn followed her into the kitchen. He was getting antsy. He wanted to kiss her. 

“What did you have in mind for the rest of the night?” she asked, looking up from loading plates in the dishwasher. 

Making out. Really, he wanted to pull her into his bed, but he was only one half of that equation and the last thing he wanted was to scare her away now. 

“I'm not really sure. I figured we'd figure it out together,” he said. 

Something in Sarah melted a little at his words. It was good to have a plan sometimes. And sometimes, it was good to let the evening take you where it wanted. 

Meeting his eyes, she said, “I like the sound of that.”

After a house tour, they ended up upstairs, on his favorite couch. Gray suede softer than anything he’d ever owned. He'd been meaning to ask his real estate agent if he could take it with him when he left. 

Fingers entwined, she tugged him closer, letting her lips fall against his. 

A distinct feeling of, finally, seeped through Quinn as he deepened the kiss. One hand woven into her hair, while the other caressed her waist.

Sarah’s fingers slid behind his neck, pulling him closer. God, she wanted him so much closer. 

A breathy moan escaped her mouth when he brushed his tongue over hers just so.

Her body drove her next actions, pulling herself into his lap, knees bracketing his hips as she rested her weight on his thighs. 

He sucked in a deep breath. 

She pulled away to look into his face, “is this okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding too fast, he didn’t want her to go anywhere. He hadn’t been shocked so much as trying to brace himself. 

Smiling, she leaned in again. Just as their lips met, words she'd been thinking for the past eleven days tumbled out of her mouth and into his, “I really like you, Quinn.”

His heart twisted at the tenderness, and he pulled back to look into her eyes as he responded, “I really like you, too, Sarah.”

His sincerity burrowed into her and hummed there, heating her from the inside out. Nudging his mouth with hers again, she sighed. This kiss was far more tender and slow than any of the ones before. It wasn’t so much passion as it was an expression of gratitude for companionship, and hope for the future. 

In a way, these kinds of beginnings in their relationship felt perfunctory, like they needed to get through them in order to get to the good stuff. Still, Quinn didn’t want to rush. 

Their kiss in the kitchen felt like a glimpse into a future time when the awkwardness of firsts was done away. It had taken months to get that comfortable with his last girlfriend, June. She hadn’t been as into him as he’d been into her (and hadn't been afraid to wield that fact like a sword), so that had been most of the problem. He didn’t get that game playing vibe from Sarah; just this reciprocated, gentle passion like he’d never experienced before. They even seemed to naturally kiss at the same pace. 

Her kisses were unlike anything he’d experienced. Hot, of course, but there was an underlying tenderness and safety he hadn’t known he was seeking. 

It didn’t take long for the gentleness to evaporate. After a few minutes, Sarah angled herself closer. Desperate to feel more of his skin, her fingers snuck under his shirt, splaying over his stomach.

He grunted at the skin to skin contact and felt his temperature spike.

That was it. With that sexy grunt, she was a woman possessed. “Can I take this off?” she asked, tugging at the hem of his shirt, too anxious to wait for a more natural moment. 

He leaned away from the couch to grab the collar and stripped the fabric over his head before throwing it on the floor. 

Giggling, she went back to kissing him, letting her hands explore his shoulders and chest. Feeling the smattering of coarse hair there, visions of how it would feel brushing her own chest flooded her mind. She had to stop herself from rubbing up against him like a cat.

His hands snuck under her shirt, and set fire to her skin. Sitting back on his thighs, she stripped her shirt off, letting it drop to the floor by his. 

Quinn sucked in a shallow breath. His heart kicked forcefully into his spine as if to ask, are you seeing this? 

He was and he couldn't believe it either. 

The bra she wore was dark blue, and cradled her breasts so they swelled gently above the fabric. Lace peeked over the solid lining, drawing shapes on her skin.

It had been a stroke of genius when she decided to buy this bra, even though at the time, she didn’t have anyone but herself to wear it for. Comfortable for the most part, it made her boobs look killer: pushed up and round. It was a confidence booster to just wear it under her clothing. Getting ready earlier in the day, Sarah knew herself well enough to know there was more than a slim chance she'd end up losing her shirt. She wanted this to be the first bra he saw her in.

Finally forcing his eyes up to her face, he found her nervously biting her lip, a hopeful sort of look in her eyes. 

“You’re…" He didn’t want to come off cheesy, or like he was trying too hard, but eventually, he just said what was going through his mind. Cheese be damned. "Jesus, you’re so pretty, Sarah.” 

She flushed the most adorable shade of pink. “Thank you.” 

He pulled her in to kiss her again. He wanted her so much. 

“Leave that on,” she said, moving his hands away from the clasp of her bra, not quite ready for him to see the stretch marks and asymmetry of her breasts. 

“Okay,” he whispered against her lips, entwining his fingers with hers. 

It was such a respectful, sweet gesture that she almost took her bra off anyway just because she liked him so much.  

The temptation to look at her more grew too strong and he pulled away. 

He kept their hands laced together as his eyes roved over her, from her soft stomach to the curve that dipped from hip to chest. 

His eyes caught on something dark peeing out from under the band of her bra. 

“Do you have a tattoo?” he asked. 

She nodded, lifting her left arm and twisting her torso to show him. 

“Is it a tree?” 

Looking down, she realized that while the roots and poem intertwined into them were visible, the thick band of this bra covered most of the design. 

Her hands were moving before she really had time to think it through. The need to know if he would accept this part of her consumed her until she was doing something she'd just asked him not to. Consequences be damned. She wanted to show him this part of herself - this reminder she'd had permanently added to her body. 

Quinn watched, enthralled, as she wrapped her right arm in front of her to cup her left breast, reaching back to unsnap her bra with the other hand. His mind raced with images of his hands replacing hers. 

Keeping her bra flush to her, she dropped her left shoulder until the strap fell, pulling the band forward. 

Even though he knew she would stay covered, his breathing still jumped when she lifted her arm. 

“The tree is based on a beech tree that was in my grandma's backyard. We used to play in it all the time.” 

"Can I touch it?" he asked reverently. 

"Yeah," her voice was breathy. 

The tree was a sepia photograph - dark brown, expertly detailed roots, trunk and branches leading up to lighter, autumn toned leaves that looked as if they might just blow away with the right gust of wind. 

“What do the roots say?” he asked, tracing his finger over the fine cursive text, looping and weaving itself among the chaotic web of lines. 

Goosebumps rippled over her skin. 

“It’s a poem my mom had hanging in our house. It says, ‘Good timber does not grow with ease: / The stronger the wind, the stronger the trees; / The further the sky, the greater the length; / The more the storm, the more the strength. / By sun and cold, by rain and snow, / In trees and men good timbers grow.’” 

It had been a long time since someone had seen her tattoo close enough to ask about the poem, and she’d had to recite it. Saying the words out loud after so long choked her voice with emotion. She tried to not let it overwhelm her, but it was like trying to stop a dam from collapsing when it had already cracked. Tears pooled in her vision.

Quinn stared at her for a few heartbeats, terrified to fail, before his common sense and advice from his mom kicked in. His first thought was to hold her, but she would probably be uncomfortable with her bra undone like it was. So, he threaded the strap back onto her shoulder and clumsily hooked the clasp together - that was something he’d never done before - before wrapping his arms around her. 

Sarah was stunned, but welcomed the embrace, resting her head on his shoulder. This act of receiving care and comfort when she started to cry, only made her want to cry more, this time out of gratitude. 

This was something she’d never dared to say out loud when her friends asked about the kind of man she wanted. It was impossible to explain to someone that had never lost a loved one. She wanted a man who wasn’t afraid of her grief, and wouldn’t try to solve it. She’d written that very phrase in her journal, and it seemed the Universe held onto that wish until both she and Quinn were ready. 

“What can I do?” he asked, feeling so inadequately prepared. 

A small laugh chuffed out of her mouth at the absurdity that he felt he needed to do more. “This is enough. This is exactly what I need.”

A sigh breathed through his body and he tightened his hold around her. 

It was a bizarre situation. Cuddling on their third date with shirts off because Sarah had started crying over a poem her mother had loved. It wasn’t where she had envisioned the night to be going in the slightest. 

She sat up and blinked the moisture on her lashes onto her finger, leaving streaks of mascara on her skin. “I’m sorry.” 

He shook his head, letting his hands rest at her hips. When he’d called her for advice, his mom told him how sometimes, grief just came up and swept you away, and the best thing he could do as a support was be there. Be a physical presence, tethering her to the shore so she could find her way back. 

A forced little, self conscious laugh escaped her chest, and she reached behind to re-clasp her bra. He’d done up only two of the three clasps and on the wrong hooks.   

“That was my first time,” he said, self-deprecating. “Can you tell?”  

She laughed - fully, out loud - and it banished the tears from her eyes. 

“I really like this,” he said, brushing his thumb over the roots winding to the front of her ribcage. “I like that it’s something so important to you, and has so many memories in it. It’s not like one of those sticker tattoos, you know?” 

One of those adorned her thigh. A heart small enough, it could be mistaken for a birthmark in the right light. She’d gotten it on a drunken dare, and was glad she’d had enough sense at the time to at least pick something simple. 

“You don’t like sticker tattoos?” 

“Tattoos are so permanent, I think they should mean something. I have a friend that has a whole bunch of dumb stuff tattooed on his arm just because he can.” 

Quinn’s hand was still on her side. The feeling of his warm palm on her skin was grounding and comforting. 

The rest of the night was spent kissing and cuddling. Her bra stayed on, though she thought about flinging it across the room more than once when he asked if he could touch her there, and then did, heating her blood to a boil. 

When Quinn’s phone buzzed with an alarm at 11, he pulled away reluctantly and smiled at her dazed, over-kissed expression. Memorizing the feeling of her skin to sustain him through the night, he ran his palm from its place on the back of her neck to the small of her back.

When he spoke, his voice was quiet, almost as if he was trying to keep himself from hearing it. “I’m really sorry, I have practice in the morning, and a game tomorrow.” 

She nodded, pursing her lips, which were flushed and more pouty than usual. “Can you take me home, then?” 

The last remnants of the test anxiety he’d been feeling blew away. “Of course.”  

Watching unashamedly as she pulled her shirt on, Quinn tried to commit the way she moved to memory. He wanted to remember everything about this night. 

Reaching for his hand, Sarah still felt a small thrill when he took it as they walked to the elevator. 

As she directed him to her apartment in Yaletown, she watched his profile in the city lights. 

“Have you broken your nose?” 

Laughter bubbled out of him, and he glanced over. “Yeah, a couple of times. Why?” 

“I just wondered,” she said, “You have a really distinctive nose.” 

“Is that a good thing?” 

“Yes.” 

She told him to turn left and pointed to her building. 

He stopped in front of her apartment building. “Are you still taking tomorrow off?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Do you…” he didn’t know why he was so nervous about this, “do you want to come to the game? I can get you a ticket.” 

A smile beamed over her face, “I’d love that. Do you think my roommates could come too? They’d never forgive me if I went without them.” 

“Sure.” 

“Am I supposed to wear your jersey?” 

He grimaced and shook his head, “no. Just wear whatever you want. I always think it’s kind of weird when girls wear my jersey.” In some ways, he’d love to see his name across her back, but not at a game. She’d be just another fangirl there. 

“Okay.” she leaned over the console to kiss him. 

He fumbled for the gear shift and slid the car into park. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," she said when she pulled away a while later. 

After watching her scan into the building, Quinn drove the ten minutes home knowing, having won her trust in this way, he would sleep like a rock. 

Both Eunice and Jane were in the living room when Sarah opened the apartment door. Eunice immediately shut off the TV, effectively blowing their cover that they were awake for any other reason than talking to her. 

"How was it?" Jane demanded. 

Sarah allowed herself a moment of self indulgence, and sank dramatically into the giant black chair Jane had inherited from her cousin's best friend’s brother or something equally convoluted.

"It was so good."

"Did you fuck?"

"Eunice," Jane reprimanded, rolling her eyes. "It was only their second date."

"So? I'd be stripping him down the second I got him alone."

Sarah cut in before Jane could snark back or Eunice could say something even worse, "No, we didn't. But we made out and if it's any indication of what's to come, it'll be amazing."

"Tell us everything."

The last time Sarah had rehashed a date minute for minute, she'd been in Hawaii, home from the first of many dates with her last boyfriend. She'd forgotten how exciting it could be. 

"Oh man," Eunice said when she was done. "That sounds so magical."

"It really was."

"I like the way you talk about him, like it's fate or something." Jane said dreamily. 

"It feels like fate," Sarah admitted. "It feels like something just plopped us together."

Eunice sighed. "I want that so much."

"Oh, I almost forgot. Quinn invited me to the game tomorrow."

"Oh, that's exciting," Eunice said, voice lacking any and all excitement. She was failing to look like she wasn't pouting. 

"I told him you'd never forgive me if I went without you, so he's getting tickets for all three of us."

"Really?" Eunice squealed as she took Jane's hands, forcing her to stand and started jumping around the living room. "I've never been to a game in person! Is he getting us rinkside?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask. I was just glad he was getting three tickets."

"You have to wear his jersey. I have one you can borrow."

"Oh," Sarah paused, "he actually told me he didn't want me to."

Eunice looked perplexed for a long moment before she continued her jumping that was sure to wake their downstairs neighbors. “I'll wear it then.”

The following evening, Quinn wasn't sure what to expect as he skated out for warm up. He'd sent Sarah the tickets and asked if she would stay after the game so he could take her home, which she'd agreed to. He had warned her it might be a while before he was ready to go, and she’d assured him she would bring a book. He didn't ask her if she would be there for warm ups or if she would be down at the glass instead of up by the box. 

He did a lap, and didn't see her. He felt on edge in a way he didn't usually before a game. Hockey was something he could practically do in his sleep. It was a learned and inherited skill he'd been honing for the past 18 years. But knowing she was watching made him a little bit nervous. 

When he went back to run some passing drills, he spotted her at the glass wearing a simple blue shirt that matched his colors under a black jacket. Her hair was in an intricate braid, twined around her head like a crown. She looked so much better than she would have wearing a jersey. 

He skated over to her and knocked on the glass to get her attention. 

Her roommate shrieked and Sarah turned. A beautiful, easy smile bloomed on her face. He smiled back in a way he usually didn't allow himself to in public. 

He grabbed a puck and tossed it over the glass for her. It was dumb, he knew that, but it was all he had to offer at that moment. 

When he went back into the drill, Conor was the first to skate up beside him, "who is that?"

Quinn felt himself blush and tried to brush it off, but Petey saddled up to both of them. 

"Is that Sarah?" He asked. 

"Sarah?" Conor repeated, a smirk on his face. "Who is Sarah?"

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

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[faye-writes-stories]

A Soldiers End

My english assessment for last terms mark is finally out!!! This means I can post the thing!!!

I got an A- lol

So, it's inspired by the poem 'In Flanders Fields'

When I stood, I could no longer feel the grime that covered me, feel the wind in my unwashed hair. I could no longer smell the stench of blood, of burning flesh, of death. I couldn’t feel the sogginess of my shoes, and as I observed my surroundings, I noticed everything appeared grainy, blurry, and I couldn’t focus on anything. It simply didnt feel real... 

I looked around slowly, my gaze unfocused, and then something... No. Someone, caught my eye. He looked oddly like myself, although honestly? Most of us looked relatively similar here. Same uniforms, haircut, and I couldn't see this guys front. I’m overreacting, right? It’s just... I have this odd feeling that I can’t shake... Either way, he was collapsed on the ground, gun wound in the head. 

I sigh. I may as well move him to the side, wouldn’t want someone tripping over him... But when I lean down, when I try to roll him over, I couldn’t touch him. My hand... it went through him. 

I scramble back, shocked, eyes wide, passing through a comrades' legs as I did, not a single one so much as noticing me! I fell, landing on my ass, and realised something. On top of the mud, I was blood splattered, blood all over me. Usually there was a lot less, but I’d been standing next to poor old Tom when he got shot last week...  

We’d been friends for a long time, you see. Our mothers had been friends for years, and we’d been raised together, so it’s no wonder. I told him everything. We shared our secrets. It was only because of him I'd gained the courage to talk my beautiful girlfriend, Mary... 

We’d been dating maybe three years now, and I’d promised her. I promised her that when I came back from the draft, that we would get married. But... that could never happen now... 

I curled on the ground as my throat closed up, I could feel the tears burn my eyes... But before I managed to break completely, a familiar face caught my eye. I rubbed my fists over my eyes as I slowly came to my feet, staggering closer. 

“Tom... is- is it really you?” I stare wide eyed at him, a man who’d supposedly died a week prior... Bullet in his head. He’d stuck his head out above too long. 

He chuckled to himself. “Yeah, James... ‘fraid so.” 

I stumbled back a few steps, yet he just smiled oddly, offering me his hand. 

“I was hoping we wouldn’t see each other again this soon, old friend...” 

I choked back more tears as he spoke, and seconds later I’d rushed forward, flinging my arms around him. 

“I thought I’d never see you again!” 

He laughed quietly, hugging back. 

"Well, you thought wrong, didntcha?” 

I choke out a laugh and nod, squeezing tighter. He always had this way of making me feel better.... 

But then he sighed softly, nearly inaudible, shutting his eyes for a few moments before standing up, pulling me with him. 

“Well, James, you’re the only one in my sector who died today. You’ll be buried later, but for now, you should come with me. Meet the others.” 

And that made me frown. 

"What do you mean, Tommy? Aren’t we going to pass on?” 

He smiles sadly, shaking his head. “’fraid not, James. None of us can. Not until this war is over, whichever side wins... We’re stuck here for God knows how long... And none of us know how to fix it. So... we might as well get used to it, hey?” 

I let out a long sigh, but nod. 

“I mean, I suppose so... but uhm... what do you mean by ‘sector’” 

“Well basically, us dead people – there’s a group of us – we sort of wander around parts of the battlefield to take the newly dead, and explain what happened. Mine is relatively small, I requested to be near you so that if you died, it wouldn’t be a stranger here now.” 

I nod slowly, my brow furrowed as thoughts rush through my head. Would I have to watch the battles tomorrow? Would I have to explain this? I didn’t understand, myself, surely they wouldn’t expect me to explain! But of course, I don’t say a word about that. I just sag against him and sigh. 

“Whatever you say... But where to now? Do I just.... stay?” 

He grins, taking my hand and leading me to a nearby hill, a hill that I knew. They called it Flanders Fields, it was where the dead were remembered... This would be my life now – if it could even be called as such – and there was nothing I could do about it. 

[tsuchinokoroyale]

I’d love to hear more about your thoughts on JJK. Admittedly, I’m not well versed in shonen, so I never even considered that it was trying to subvert the genre.

P.S. Thank you for the consistently thoughtful takes and hot ass 😘

Ooooo boy I hope you’re ready for a whole ass essay 😎😎😎

Shonen as a genre has changed over time as any art form does, but it is still mired in tropes that can be traced back to the classics. The shonen genre is thus named bc its target demographic is boys to young men, for our discussion we’ll say teenage boys. While it obviously has big appeal for other demographics, it is mainly designed to both appeal AND communicate life lessons to that crowd of impressionable kids.

Because of this dual function you get this really odd genre full of super powerful special boys who love their friends but have no qualms about slaughtering their enemies. They typically espouse lessons about the merits of hard work, sticking to your beliefs ((so long as your beliefs are beneficial to society at large)), of goodness and friendship triumphing over evil. Look no further than DBZ and Naruto which can broadly be divided into Battle Arcs and Training Arcs, upping the ante for our special boy main protagonists until we literally have them fighting gods as the logical extreme of continuous escalation.

The Standard™ Shonen formula has a boy main protagonist who’s got some sort of motivation that is so ideologically pure that he’s basically impossible to defeat. Goku loves to fight, Naruto wants to be hokage, Tanjiro wants to cure his sister and slayer all the demons, etc. He forms/joins a band of merry outcasts with their own tragic backstories and sets out to defeat whatever villain appears for that arc. If they win, arc is over move onto training arc, if they lose, they train, fight and win, then train some more. The fun of the genre comes from the colorful side characters, and the little twists that come with each battle system, which brings us to Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure.

At the time JJBA was being published, the big influence on manga was big beefy male led 80s action movies and Fist of the North Star, a manga about a beefy martial artist named Kenshiro going around beating baddies in a post apocalyptic world. Battle systems in Shonen were usually incredibly soft, most tied to physical combat enhanced by some poorly defined life force energy that could be called upon to even out fights and give big climactic finishes, like Ki from dragon ball and their iconic kamehamehas. Even JJBA starts off this way, with our beefy boys learning Hamon/Ripple and duking it out with vampires, til my man Hirohiko Araki was like “mmmm this is kind of limiting. Time to Change Everything~” and he came up with the concept of Stands, incredibly limited psychic/magic abilities that manifest as furries or sexy robots or a Lego version of the White House (?). You can see this idea really grow and expand within the part it’s introduced, going from “fire furry” and “robot knight with sword” to “guy whose stand turns into a ball that immediately erases anything it runs into but he can’t really see what he’s attacking since he has to be inside his stand in order for it to work also his name is Vanilla Ice and he’s a vampire in a thong.”

You can FEEL the impact this had even to this day. Stands became Jutsus in Naruto, quirks in MHA, Nen in HxH, Cursed Techniques in JJK. And part of what made it fun was that it added strategy to the mix! Str8 physical fights are hard to strategize bc it’s basically just a numbers game, right? Like bc his power level is over 9000, it’s going to be a tough time until some plot contrivance and/or training occurs to drive *my* power level over 9000. But now there is an additional layer of *how* these powers interact.

My ability is to blow bubbles and his ability is to turn a single person who comes into contact with bodily fluids into a mindless zombie? Create bubble shields so they can’t splash blood on you. My ability is to fold anything into origami and if you touch the origami you begin to see one object as something else and his ability is an automatic tracking stand that hunts me down by creating face shredding tornados when I breathe? Make a city bus look like my dad ((part 8 is fucking nuts)).

As you can tell, JJBA really burst open the dam on creativity, but as per the examples I’ve given they can often feel very… silly and contrived. The Serious Anime Fan™ will complain and say those fights are full of asspulls, which they are, but that’s very much part of the fun of the series. BUT because diversity is the spice of life, you also get artists who are less interested in adhering to the Rule of Cool and more interested in making things explicitly “logical” which is how we get Hunter x Hunter.

While JJBA dabbles in using stands for characterization, HxH goes HARD into it. Nen abilities are ((usually)) manifestation of their user’s idea of power, creating a direct link between who that person is and what they can do as a result. This is balanced by people having innate Nen types which means the kinds of abilities they can use are limited, though there are rules restrictions and exceptions to this as well. We know all of this bc mangaka Togashi literally gives a college level lecture on Nen in the story, describing how it manifests, how it works, what it can and can’t do, and how individual rules can supersede the basic set of rules and the rules for doing that. I call this style Erudite Shonen, bc bitches be TALKING. In erudite Shonen, powers usually fall on the complex side, even Bungee Gum, which has the properties of both rubber and gum, can be used in insane ways like ricocheting bullets, gluing minors together, and/or cheesing a game of dodgeball and it’s all both shown AND told.

Now where does JJK fall into all this? Listifying the common Shonen tropes we have A Special Boy main protagonist with a pure motive, a crew, goodness triumphing over evil, prioritizing bonds and community over selfish gain, and the winning power of hard work.

Early JJK fits the mold pretty well. Yuji Itadori starts off the series special, with superhuman fitness before he ingests sukuna’s finger at which point he becomes a Naruto analog, where he is strong because he has a powerful spirit trapped inside him. He has the rather off kilter but still acceptable goal of “dying a proper death”. His squad of mentor Gojo, Fushiguro, and Kugisaki is established by episode 3. The villains are cursed spirits who want to eradicate humanity, the good guys are the jujutsu sorcerers who say “no u” to that. Yuji wants to gain power to protect others instead of just becoming powerful himself. And there’s a training arc! Sure, it happens after Yuji gets his heart ripped out, but he’s not even dead that long. Even the powers in early JJK present themselves as pretty simple, Fushiguro does shadow summoning, Kugisaki does hammer and nail resonance, panda, Inumaki does cursed speech.

It wears its darkness on its sleeve however, presenting Junpei as a potential future team member only to shockingly kill him. The whole star plasma vessel incident casts an unflattering light on Jujutsu society. But none of that COMPARES to the shitshow that happens in Shibuya, where JJK finally shows its real hand.

Over the course of the Shibuya arc, we watch our protagonist mount an offense against the villains that have been building themselves up over the course of the show, sacrificing so so much just to ultimately… lose. The Shibuya arc subverts not just idiosyncratic plot beats but story telling traditions as well. “The strongest” loses, multiple fan favorite characters are either taken out of commission or outright killed, the story progression slams the fast forward button as Yuji goes from having ingested 4 out of 20 fingers to 15/20 resulting in mass civilian casualties because his version of the 9 tailed fox is an actual monster, and ((meta-narratively)) worst of all, Yuji doesn’t even get to defeat his arch-rival, Mahito. Instead Mahito is unceremoniously absorbed by other big bad Geto/Kenjaku. It’s supremely unsatisfying and the weight of the tragedy is so immense you wonder how our heroes are gonna come back from this.

And thus begins the “deconstruction” phase of JJK. Cuz they just… don’t. As dark as Shibuya got, a standard Shonen would then go on to give the heroes a big fat W, some sort of come back after all that. But not JJK! Bc JJK is subversive 😏 this means the fact that the story is super unsatisfying is like, the point mannnn. This isn’t the worst thing that can happen. Chainsawman is also a story of major L’s and minor W’s and it’s my #1 favorite modern manga series. The difference is in intent, however. Chainsawman works as well as it does bc at its core, it loves Denji. He REALLY goes through the ringer, but it’s all in service of understanding what life is like for someone trapped on the hedonic treadmill and how one can ((attempt anyways)) to break out of it.

And then there’s JJK. It truly feels like the manga is designed to tear Yuji’s self sacrificial mindset to shreds for the sake of making him suffer and for the reader to feel bad for ever feeling like good has to triumph over evil. The real problem is, it feels as if the series is bending over backwards to make this shit happen.

Part of the change over is what was a previously simple-ish battle system goes full Erudite Shonen. There were hints that cursed energy could get more complicated, what with domain completion competition and guaranteed hits and simple domains and that one guys FPS ability I can’t explain. But we go FULL HxH level afterwards. All of a sudden oxygen delivery to the brain becomes important to cursed technique, there’s domain range and boundary fidelity and incomplete domain properties, disruption of somatic components becomes a factor, and… it honestly feels like utter nonsense at times.

Complexity isn’t bad, like I mentioned I LOVE HxH and could probably explain the chrollo-hisoka fight if you gave me a few hours to study, but I could not tell you all the new rules for cursed energy that seem just kind of invented on the spot in random chapters during this back half of JJK. Bc they involve concepts never really mentioned before, it feels like an asspull, like this was something made up to force the situation at hand. Thing is, more of those situations only benefit the villains. You get shit like a character winning a battle at the end of one chapter and then starting the next one to find they were killed off screen moments later, actually. It’s just like yeah it’s subversive, but the reason stories aren’t told like this is bc this shit sucks lmao. I think out of all the plans the heroes make like only a handful of them are actually successful, and even then they get so unwound by the next step in the plan that they may as well have not happened. It doesn’t help that the abilities are so complicated now you’ll get a chapter dedicated to explaining what one guy can do just to have him wiped off the face of the earth the next one.

So the crew is gone, our special boy is actually the most disempowered guy ever except for the fact that he can’t be killed for some reason, the good guys are NOT doing a great job standing up to evil since like 86% of their plans fail or have bad results, a gag character wins one of the most important fights in the story and it’s unironically the best thing JJK has done in a while, and it’s all just a very confusing slog to read. This is the danger of writing subversion for the sake of subversion with intent for contempt, kids 😮‍💨

Granted we aren’t at the end of the story yet so maybe I’ll be wrong and there’ll be like a reset button that fixes everything (( which would also suck )), but yeah. JJK wants what HxH did in the chimera ant arc but forgot that that story was possible bc it was fundamentally about humanity and love, not just the parts about how people suck and goodness can fail.

If you made it this far congratulations you’re entitled to one big kissy on ur forehead from me and barnaby 😚😚😚