#anyways also a few other people who were passive aggressive and used no offense and r u happy now a lot who ive just stayed away from

[himboarcher]

reasons i've seen folks say that grad critics hate grad:

they hate travis (in fairness, i’ve def seen some comments of people shitting on trav for the sake of shitting on trav, but it’s not super common and typically gets downvoted into oblivion on reddit.)

it's not balance / travis isn't griffin (???????)

they hate neurodivergent people (again, in fairness, i have seen a handful of comments that could come across this way! but most of the time when travis being ADHD or his NPD is brought up, it's by defenders saying that criticizing travis is ableist because he's neurodivergent or, in one particular comment, infantilizing him bc of it and literally comparing grad to putting a kid's artwork on the fridge. there were some comments early on that pointed to him being a narcissist as the reason for things people disliked about grad, but everyone seems to have realized that that's a shitty train of thought and left it behind.)

they're just toxic haters (again, there are a small handful of people like this because this is the internet, but the genuine criticism greatly outweighs their bullshit. i 100% think that the people, which is mostly just one dude who is also insufferable on reddit, who have been responding rudely to positive tweets under the episode announcements lately are out of line and need to stop. there's been an influx of that lately, presumably because people are frustrated that after over a year of grad going on, there's been no improvement to most of the major issues. that's still no excuse to be a dick to folks, though.)

vs some of the actual reasons i don't like grad:

the racism / racist tropes, and the way that they’ve straight up ignored this criticism and will likely never acknowledge it. pretty wild considering a core tenet of their brand is their willingness to acknowledge when they’ve messed up and do their best to course correct.

clumsy attempts at inclusion that are shallow and often end up being fairly offensive ("...ask me about my wheelchair," anyone?)

on a related note: i don't think that travis had bad intentions, but as an nonbinary person, it feels othering to me that travis only has enby characters give others their pronouns unprompted. i'm thinking specifically of kai here. having listened to their introduction, i don't think it's as bad or awkward as some people have said, but i can't remember travis ever having another NPC tell the PCs their pronouns, especially not a cis character. it's not a huge deal, but it's something that rubbed me the wrong way. admittedly, i don't think it would bother me so much if travis hadn't dropped the ball so much with performative inclusion in the past.

okay i'm putting the rest under a read more because even without getting into all of the problems i have with it, this got Long.

little to no player agency. player choices are ultimately meaningless and have little to no effect on the world. even when he seems to go along with a plan they come up with, it always ends with them having to go back to travis' pre-written script (see: subpoenaing the xorn, but not really because they had to go with travis' original plan of "send the xorn home through the rift".) the players repeatedly get told things about what they think or feel or what they've been doing to an unnecessary degree. fitzroy is the only one who really gets space to play and decide things for himself, and that's only because travis has decided he's the main character.

the NPCs are all too nice and willing to give the PCs anything they ask for and more, unless the PCs are trying to follow their own plan and then the NPCs are completely useless. but honestly, aside from gray, all of the NPCs are just.... nice. travis refuses to even let his antagonists be mean or cruel or even more than just slightly rude, because that'd be a bummer and we don't want that! the "twist" of gordy the lich king actually being polite and chill is not a twist at all because everyone is like that in this world. the NPCs are also wildly overpowered, but then suddenly absolutely useless when the PCs actually want their help.

too many cliffhangers that are dropped immediately at the beginning of the next episode. i feel bad for travis because so many of these cliffhangers actually set up good momentum and seemed like things were gonna get interesting, but almost every single time he just dropped them at the beginning of the next episode. like when althea showed up to interview the boys and the next episode started with travis being like "actually you went to sleep, she said she'll be back tomorrow!"

that time travis specifically said in his exposition dump that the thundermen left their horses behind because they thought the centaurs might be offended by them riding horses, only to later on rag on them for being surprised that the centaurs had horses they could ride.....

also the centaur arc in general, but i already listed racism above, so.

the way that the toxic positivity and parasocial tendencies in the mcelroy fandoms have made a large portion of the fandom take ANY criticism as a personal attack on travis and/or on themselves for enjoying something others consider bad, either morally or just quality-wise. it’s okay to admit that something you like has problematic elements or just isn’t as good as it once was. you can and should engage critically with the media you consume.

related to above: the way travis has handled genuine criticism, which is to throw public tantrums on his twitter or make weird passive aggressive tweets & ultimately ignore all the genuine criticism and advice he's been offered by claiming it's all subjective, even after he specifically asked for it and set up an email for folks to send in genuine, objective advice for him (after he threw a tantrum on twitter and replied to someone's criticism publicly, which resulted in his followers dogpiling on that person bc how dare they insult their internet best friend). while i was writing this last night, he actually announced that he’s taking a break from Twitter and acknowledged that he’s been using it as an echo chamber where he can easily get validation from folks, and honestly i’m happy for him that he’s recognized this problem and is stepping away for a while! i hope he’ll genuinely use this time to reflect on how he’s been behaving and find a more healthy way to use social media. i’m leaving this point in because i think his Twitter being such a positive echo chamber was encouraging him to do stuff like this, and him somewhat acknowledging his behavior doesn’t mean it can no longer be discussed.

rainer. extremely cool concept in theory and i was very into it until that awkward "does anyone want to ask about my wheelchair?" moment. also when travis had her use her mobility aid to RAM INTO A DOOR instead of just fucking knocking???? also all the times travis has tried to force a romantic relationship between her and fitzroy, despite fitzroy displaying no interest in her in that way. also, just to clarify: as an ace person, i don’t think this is aphobic! (and it’s kind of a stretch to call it that imo, especially since griffin never explicitly said that fitzroy's aromantic!) i just think it’s weird and awkward and a little uncomfortable for me personally, mostly because it reminds me of the times i’ve been in similar situations.

less of a problem than a lot of the other stuff and more just bad writing, but the forced emotional moments. in general, nothing in grad feels earned (why are the boys heading a war? when they have multiple actual heroes with combat experience on their side and a supposedly powerful secret organization? and the thundermen are like 21 years old max and have only had like ~10 fights in the entire campaign?) but there've been a couple times where travis has tried to force unearned emotional moments, presumably because he knows people enjoyed those with the last campaigns. but the difference is that in balance, the big emotional moments happened because they were earned. in grad, it's just travis throwing a baby pegasus at us for a few minutes and then the next time she shows up, it's supposed to be a tearful goodbye.

there are absolutely no stakes. remember when the thundermen got told that if they left, gray would kill 10 students? and then they left and came back and it turns out that what gray actually meant was, "i'll tie ten students who are mostly nameless NPCs to a tree and throw some dogs at them that you can easily stop in time, then throw a tantrum because how dare you but i'll leave before you can really do anything to hurt me lol" travis did have fitzroy's magic get taken away, but like. it didn't really do anything? also all he had to get it back was be coerced into using drugs by an authority figure and trip in the woods?

we're told that the school is weird and the hero system is corrupt, but the world of nua is still presented as more of a liberal utopia than anything? althea getting fired because of a corrupt villain is the only time we've somewhat seen corruption, but even then, she was still allowed to get (what seems to me, anyway, but admittedly i don't know for sure bc nothing about the HOG makes much sense) a fairly important job from the very people who stripped her of her hero license or whatever the fuck heroes need?

travis doesn't actually seem to understand how capitalism or bureaucracy works and just chalks up everything to "red tape." also more on the rest of the boys than him specifically, but the "let's destroy capitalism!" thing turning into just pushing some filing cabinets over................... okay.

and one last piece of extremely subjective criticism: it's just kind of.... boring. i think a lot of people, myself included, would be willing to overlook 90% of the problems with graduation if it didn't feel like such a slog to get through.

also people saying that we can't or shouldn't criticize graduation because it's "free" is absolutely absurd for several reasons. first, something being free does not make it above criticism. second, there ARE people who directly financially support the show with monthly donations. three, there's a difference between something being free and something being not for profit. podcasting is their full time job. they make their living off of money made from TAZ and MBMBAM (and probably their other shows to a lesser extent). this not a fun home game that they are graciously recording and sharing with us. it is a product they are producing that they make money off of, both from ads in the episodes and merch & books based off of these podcasts. they have marketed themselves as professionals, and both griffin and travis have been on panels where they are marketed as professional DMs and appear alongside other professional DMs (which makes it incredibly frustrating when people say that travis is just a newbie DM and we can't criticize him because of that. if he's a newbie, then he should not be taking part of panels as a professional DM where he speaks as an expert). TAZ is free in the same way that an episode of NCIS is free. i may not pay for it directly, but the creators are paid to create it and profit off of me consuming this product. so saying we should be grateful for any mcelnoise that the benevolent good boys share with us and that we're not allowed to criticize it "because it's free" is absolutely wild.

[yeahhiyellow]

19, 22 and 23? :^)

19. What is the one thing you hate most about your fandom?

Tbh there are a lot of things I hate, although by this point it's only very certain parts of the fandom that have these problems, since most of the shitty people have lost interest by this point. If I had to choose just one thing though, it'd be the overwhelming focus on white, male characters over female and/or characters of color. And there are a lot of areas where this shows up. One major example is that a lot of people like the idea of Connor, Hank, Gavin, and Nines (all white, male characters, mind you) staying at the DPD even after:

The DPD was the one (along with Cyberlife) responsible for the deaths, arrests, and brutal treatment of androids, the main oppressed group in the game's world

Connor and Nines are a part of that oppressed group, and at least Hank is shown in game to support them

Connor has already worked at the DPD and was routinely called an "it" (which as someone who is nonbinary and has been called "it" knows how insulting that can be and understands the need to get away from situations where that happens), was allowed to be sent to his death by, and was routinely harassed and nearly murdered, or in some playthroughs actually murdered, by workers at the DPD (*ahem Gavin ahem*)

Hank (if he is your friend) risked his career just to cause a distraction for Connor to keep him alive

Just because the android revolution was successful doesn't mean the DPD was going to follow that. I mean, the androids were heavily compared to African Americans in this game, and we all know how the current police system treats them (and if you don't, pay attention to the news, like, ever. Also read Jim Crow as that book is very informative on the oppression of blacks in the entire incarceration system as well as before and after that)

So I hope it would be pretty obvious to any sane person that suggesting these characters would join/remain in the DPD after everything is offensive on all sorts of levels.

In addition to that, you also have some people saying that they only cared about Connor's story, or that his was the only good one. The female protagonist that risks her own life several times to save that of a child (no matter if she is human or android)? Not important. The (half) black protagonist who is shot by police, has to rebuild himself, and leads his own people to freedom? Who cares? The only important story to these people is the white, male, cop android who spends most of his time hunting down the good guys. And if some people honestly prefer Connor's story because of their own reasons, that's fine. And yes, Kara and Markus's stories have lots of problems. But Connor's does too, and none of this gives people an excuse to ignore the other characters, especially since they are the minority characters. Then, there are also the people who say Connor's machine path was better than his deviant path, or that him being replaced by Nines in the end was unfair. And... what the fuck??? I mean, I get it, it's fun to play through different options, and Connor is hella badass in the machine path. But he is also hella badass in the deviant path (killing the guards in the elevator, possibly the team at the bottom if he doesn't catch the security camera, fighting Sixty, walking in front of all the androids he freed, like, come on), and he also, like, has morals and isn't oppressive??? In the machine route, he kills his own people, including those who just want to be free and might have been completely pacifist the entire way through. So I'm sorry, anyone who thinks his machine path is better is just looking for an excuse to be oppressive without openly admitting it.

Then there's the Gavin apologizers. While fanon Gavin is awesome, some people have way overstepped the line of redemption and allowing oppression. I've seen posts defending Gavin's in-game behavior, just because he refers to androids as "he" on occasion. This is despite:

Suggesting "roughing up," or being violent to Shaolin (the HK400 in "The Interrogation")

Insulting his partner, Chris, when he doesn't forcibly move Shaolin against Shaolin's will

Pointing a gun at Connor after Connor rightfully says to stop touching Shaolin for both succeeding the mission and for Shaolin's sake, and only stepping down after Hank points a gun at him and even after insults Connor

Punching Connor right in the thirium pump regulator and then pushing his head right where his LED is in the break room if Connor refuses to get him a coffee

Insulting and threatening Connor in the same scene even if Connor follows all of his demands

Insulting Hank's alcoholism in the Eden Club "it's starting to stink of booze in here"

Purposely pushing Connor to the side in the same scene

Trying to literally murder Connor and admitting he'd wanted to kill him ever since he first saw Connor, sometimes successfully

Both physically and verbally assaulting Connor

I forgive very easily and strongly believe in redemption, don't get me wrong. But trying to excuse Gavin's behaviors is so inexcusable, especially when most of his aggressions are towards androids, the oppressed minority.

Now, let's look at Ao3, shall we? Let's see how many fics posted there are with each of the "main" (including Gavin and Nines since even though they are not main characters in canon they are in fanon) characters... (also, keep in mind, I gathered this data about a month ago so it might not be completely up to date):

Connor: 16,150

Markus: 5,395

Kara: 1,504

Hank: 13,135

Nines: 9,807

Gavin: 9,939

Amanda: 1,177

Chloe: 1,521

North: 3,056

Simon: 3,192

Josh: 1,965

Alice: 1,098

Luther: 848

Rose: 193

This means that certain characters get unequal amounts of attention:

White: 59,042

Black: 9,578

Male: 60,431

Female: 8,549

White, Male: 52,223

White, Female: 7,179

Black, Male: 8,208

Black, Female: 1,370

Well, this says a lot. Now, some people reading this might realize that there are more white and male characters to begin with, so it could be fair even with their numbers being higher. So, okay, let's see the average amount of works a single character in each of the above categories would have (so divide each of the values by the number of characters in that category) (also I rounded to the tenth place aka first decimal point):

White: 6,560.2

Black: 1,915.6

Male: 7,553.9

Female: 1,424.8

White, Male: 10,444.6

White, Female: 1,794.8

Black, Male: 2,736

Black, Female: 685

If anything, these are even more telling. And if you don't believe me, look on Ao3 and calculate these yourself, because you'll get the same thing.

To be clear, I don't have anything against Connor, Hank, or any of the white and/or male characters. I even like the way that the fandom has redeemed Gavin. But the fandom has not done the same job of redeeming other characters, especially the minority ones, and pays way less attention to them, and that needs to be called out with evidence by someone.

Anyway, I spent a LONG time on that first question, so I'll try to make the next answers shorter!

22. Popular character you hate?

There aren't any popular characters that I thoroughly hate. The only characters I hate are ones that are already highly unpopular (Todd, Zlatko, Perkins). If we're talking canon characters, I do hate Gavin with a flaming passion. I mean, he is meant to represent police brutality. But fanon Gavin is cool with me, so I'm not sure exactly how much this counts.

There is one semi-popular character that I dislike though, and that is Kamski. I'm half-counting him again because within the fandom there are very mixed opinions. I personally dislike him mainly because of his treatment of one of his Chloe's: he is willing to let her get shot in the head and killed just to find a dumb answer to his Kamski test just because he feels like it. If Connor doesn't shoot Chloe, he tells Connor he's deviant, knowing full well that Amanda and Cyberlife are watching being the one to design the program, endangering Connor. While he arguably is responsible for deviancy and wants androids to succeed, that doesn't make up for those facts.

Another character that half-counts is Daniel. There are mixed opinions within the fandom on him as well, with some arguing that he is only wanting to not get replaced and protect himself. However, since his first response was to kill the dad, and then he proceeded to shoot at least 3 more cops, killing 2, and hold Emma, the young girl he had been friends with for years hostage, even though she had nothing to do with his replacement. You can't argue that he didn't want to kill Emma and only used her as protection for himself, either, as there are multiple endings where he tries and sometimes succeeds in killing Emma, even when he is also killing himself. I'm not closed to a redemption arc for him, but his in-game actions are inexcusable. He's the one deviant who truly has no valid defense for his actions.

23. Unpopular character you love?

There are a few. I absolutely adore North, Josh, Adam, and Alice, even though the fandom has conflicted opinions on them. Then again, none of these characters are really considered unpopular, just not as popular as others with a select few that don't like them. With North, I've been in this fandom since a few months after its release, when there was a lot of North hatred, and was actually in a group called the North Protection Squad lol. However, now most people like her, and she's really grown in popularity. With Josh, it's less that he's hated, and more that he's ignored. People say that Simon was the peaceful option when he was really the neutral, and recently I've seen more people against Josh's opinions on the revolution. While I don't always agree with Josh being so passive and undemanding (neither do I agree with North's violence), he's still an awesome character with some very valid points. Then, I do understand why some people dislike Adam, as at first he's against androids and almost reveals Kara and the others. However, if you meet him at the border crossing, he apologizes to Kara and changes his mind, promising to help androids. While he may start out scared and not on the right side, he does have a good heart and ends up making the right decisions in the end. With Alice, I haven't seen many people hate her, either, although I have seen some saying she's annoying and lacks a personality. I agree that she lacks a personality, although I argue that's the writers' faults rather than her character's (as are problems with other characters, I mean David Cage wrote this so what were we expecting). I also don't think she's annoying, as after all she is only 9 (in human terms), doesn't admit she's an android because she's scared Kara will reject her (and Kara actually can reject her for being an android, leaving her completely on her own in a world that wants her dead. Also, living her whole life with Todd can absolutely not help her feel more secure with who she is or make her trust Kara to still love her for it), and she is only cold and feels sick because her model of android is literally designed to replicate human sickness and discomfort (and it's clear she doesn't know how to turn them off, because even after Kara knows she's an android Kara still has to help Alice not feel cold anymore. Also, this is November in Detroit, in which the average temperature is 42°F (5.6°C). There are also scenes where it is snowing, meaning the temperature is below freezing. Still, despite the temperatures, in some scenes not having a coat, and feeling sick, she says Kara and Luther can't stop because of her, risks her life to save Kara's if you fail QTEs, and says she's "fine" even when she's cold to comfort Kara. So if you think she can be annoying, yeah, all 9-year-olds can be. But if you think she's annoying enough to actually hate her, idek what to say).

In terms of characters that are really unpopular, I actually like Leo. His actions at first are inexcusable. I mean, accusing Carl of loving an android more than hin, insulting Markus and treating him as less than human, threatening him, breaking into Carl's house and attempting to steal his paintings for drug money, and framing Markus for Carl's death leading to him getting shot and nearly killed are obviously not okay things to do. However, he is clearly on drugs, specifically red ice, the most dangerous drug in the world. Also, if you decide to push Markus leading Carl to still be alive, when you return to Carl's house, you can find a message Leo sent to Carl in which he apologizes for everything and promises it won't happen again. In the extras section, you also find out Carl missed out on Leo's whole childhood, only first meeting him once he was much older. Given that Carl spends all of his days pleasantly conversing with Markus while ignoring Leo, not calling him, only talking to Leo once he comes around himself, and doesn't even argue when Leo says Carl doesn't love him, it's almost fair that Leo thinks the way he does. Since he's also high on drugs throughout the story, at least up until Markus gets shot, we also know that the Leo we see isn't the real Leo. Later, if Carl is dead and Markus visits his grave, he encounters Leo again. This time, when Leo sees Markus he is only shocked. Now, off of red ice, not only is he going to see Carl's grave, expressing love for his father, he also doesn't try to hurt Markus, insult him, or anything mean or dehumanizing. His expression lacks any signs of aggression. It was only when he was high that he was such an asshole. Although that doesn't excuse his behavior, it does give a reason for it, and by the end I consider him redeemed.

~~~

Wow... that was a long response to a very short ask. No need to read all that (although I would highly suggest reading my first answer, at least, since that does contain some very relevant points). Although then again, if you've made it here, you've probably already read all that. In which case I would love to hear your opinions if you're willing to share (as well as anyone who sees this!) I guess I just had a lot of opinions that I needed to put out in the world lol, so thank you sm for the ask!!!!! 💛💛💛

[egcdeath]

wrong place, wrong time

summary: a drunken mishap leads you to reconcile with someone from your past. (based off this prompt)

pairing: andy barber x reader 

word count: 2.1k

author’s note: this fic has been sitting in my drafts, half finished, for like months. i hope you enjoy!

warnings: extremely brief mention of cheating

“I just think things would be better if we… you know, saw other people,” Oliver explained through the phone. 

You sighed dejectedly into the microphone, before deciding to hang up, and aggressively tossing your phone onto the leather seat next to you. You’d already had a shit day at work, and you really didn’t think that you could handle all of this today. Especially considering that you were almost certain that there was the hint of a feminine giggle in the background of that call.

You’d been expecting this for a while, your relationship with Oliver had been falling apart- slowly but surely- for a few months now, and he was ‘working late’ way too many nights for you not to be the slightest bit suspicious. But it still hurt, you were now single, and you’d essentially wasted a precious year of your life with a douchebag who ended up leaving you anyway.

You pressed your foot on the gas, and began your drive back home, before telling yourself fuck it, and deciding to turn onto a side road so you could head to your local pub. 

-----

Several drinks later, you were extremely drunk. From that point on, everything was a bit of a blur.

You stumbled out of the bar (against your own will? You vaguely remember someone telling you that you needed to leave), sat in the back of an Uber (how much did you tell them? Probably too much), arrived at your home (but why weren’t your keys working?).

Things were a bit less blurry here. You can remember yourself repeatedly stabbing your keys into the door, and when that didn’t seem to work, deciding to hoist yourself over your fence, and get in through the back.

During this whole ordeal, you tripped over a seat on the patio, losing a shoe in doing so, and nearly fell into a pool, since when did my house have a pool? You ignored that thought, then opened the back door, getting in with no resistance. 

You hobbled inside, closed the door behind you, then stumbled up the stairs, before finally finding your (?) bedroom. You flopped down in bed before realizing that you really needed to pee, and as you went to go find your bathroom, everything seemed to go black. 

----

You woke up extremely disoriented in a vaguely familiar bathtub. It faintly smelled of pine, and possibly a hint of vanilla. The tub had a modern and sleek look, yet appeared to be as sterile as a hospital room. This was absolutely not your home. But it possibly belonged to someone you knew. The tiles lining the wall did seem to ring a bell somewhere deep in the foggy abyss of your hungover brain. 

As you sat up, you groaned due to the consistent pulsing in your head. This had to be one of the worst hangovers you’d had in a while, and you were lucky that you didn’t lean over and empty the contents of your stomach right that instant.

“Stupid fucking Y/N,” you whispered to yourself. “You’re lucky all of your organs are still intact.” After stating this, you glanced down at your torso just to make sure. But a larger question still remained, where were you? Did you hook up with someone? Did you just randomly break into someone’s home? That’s a little ridiculous. Who would do something like that?

Apparently, drunk you would. In the process of exiting the tub, you concluded that you absolutely were in someone elses' gargantuan of a home, and that that person was undoubtedly down the hall, taking a phone call. Also, you were definitely missing a shoe.

You glared at yourself in the mirror, smeared makeup on your face, hair that looked so frizzy that you may as well have been struck by lightning, and of course the overwhelming scent of dry liquor that seemed to be seeping out of your skin. You turned on the sink and splashed your face, trying to completely wake up, and to partially figure out if this was real life, or just a horrible dream. 

“Fuck!” you exclaimed out loud to yourself. How would you even get out of this situation alive? Perhaps you could find a window to jump out of. No, too dangerous. Hide in the bathroom until the man leaves? Well, everyone has to go to the bathroom at some point. Leave without being spotted? Mhm, very likely. Go talk to the homeowner? It doesn’t seem like you have any other option right now. You internally screamed at yourself for being so reckless, especially having gone through all of this drama for a guy who didn’t deserve one ounce of your attention.

You slipped off your remaining shoe, then slowly made your way out of the bathroom, peeking behind the doorway to see if the coast was clear, and trying to plan your explanation in the process. As you peered around, searching for the quickest and easiest exit, you realized just how familiar the home was. But what really did it for you was a painting on the wall. 

This was Andy Barber’s home. The same man you hooked up with a few times before ghosting. You sighed exasperatedly at your own poor decision making for what felt like the millionth time that morning.

You had to get the hell out of here. Fast. Lost shoe be damned.

You somewhat remembered the floor plan, so managing to get out unnoticed began to seem just a tad bit more possible. You began to jog it down the hall, trying not to be too heavy footed as you went, in the event that Andy was standing in the eyeline of one of the open doors. Unfortunately for you, in the midst of your beeline down the hall, you were spotted. 

“What the..? You know what Lynn, I’ll call you back in a bit.”

“I can explain! Don’t like… kill me or something. I promise you that this is just a big misunderstanding,” you were speaking without really processing anything that you were saying. You turned to face the man, and couldn’t help but to smirk a bit at the sight of him. You forgot just how attractive he was, with a full beard, fluffy hair, and soft blue eyes that seemed to be boring straight into your soul from across the room. Not to mention his sculpted body, which you swore you could make out beneath his sweatpants, and worn white shirt. Really, Y/N? First you ghost a man, break into his home a year later, and now you’re objectifying him? 

You moved towards the door and began to speak again, your words flowing out at a million miles per minute, “Uhm, so long story short, I basically got really drunk last night, and I thought your house was mine, so I kinda broke in. But I’ll be seeing myself out now,” You gave a curt smile, and looked towards the stairs. “Before I go, any chance that you’ve seen my left shoe somewhere around here?”

It was clear that Andy was very confused, but as you read his face, you could see that he was far more intrigued than angry. “Hey, not so fast.” He approached you quickly, his eyebrows lifting in surprise, and his mouth gaping open slightly. “No fuckin’ way. Y/N?”

You scratched the back of your head awkwardly and nodded, “yeah.” 

“You’re not getting off the hook that easily. Lucky for you, I was about to make breakfast, aaaand I’m not totally opposed to being joined,” he gave you a genuine smile, and a playful little shrug. 

“That’s fine with me but- this sounds kinda strange- can I use your shower first?”

“Go right ahead. Mi casa su casa, right? I mean, kinda sounds like that’s what you were thinking last night,” Andy peered at you inquisitively at this, “I’m just kidding. Feel free to use anything you need.”

You couldn’t even blame Andy for his passive aggression, but that didn’t stop you from sulking the whole way back into the bathroom.

----

“I forgot how good your water pressure is,” you announced while coming down the stairs, clad in a college hoodie that you’d found in the depths of Andy’s closet, and shorts that were just a tad too large for you.

“Thanks, I guess?” Andy flipped a pancake, then turned to get a good look at you. 

“You’re welcome. It smells so good down here,” you slipped into a barstool at his granite island, and observed him while he cooked, “so... you still live here alone?” You asked while you were passed a mug of coffee.

“Well, yeah. I mean that’s kind of what happens after your wife and son die.”

“Uhm.. sorry. For bringing that up again,” you glanced down awkwardly at your dark drink. 

“It’s okay, they’ve been gone for a while,” he sat down at his seat, setting down a plate of food for you and himself. “What’ve you been up to? Apart from breaking and entering, of course.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” you began, cutting into a syrup-soaked pancake. “You’re no saint either. I can’t think of anyone in their right mind who would gladly break bread with someone who drunkenly broke into their home.”

“That’s fair,” Andy stated, almost dismissively. “But it's not like we’re total strangers. We have history.”

You scoffed at this, “like hell we do,” you muttered. “Anyway, things with me have been pretty boring. Same job. I had a boyfriend, but he just dumped me like, 12 hour ago. I’m pretty sure that he’s been cheating on me for like, the past four months.”

“That sucks,” Andy commented, shoveling a piece of pancake into his mouth. 

“Yeah, it does. How about you?”

“You know, same old. Still an ADA, still getting messages from random people about that trial, and of course, still perpetually lonely.”

“By no means do I mean to impede, but maybe you’d be a little less lonely if you let people in,” you suggested, looking up from your food to Andy, whose face gave away the offense he was feeling, “I said maybe.”

“What do you mean?” He questioned, brows furrowing.

“Come on, Andrew. You know exactly what I mean. Like with us, I thought everything was going perfectly well, until I was half asleep and you were telling me that you weren’t ready to commit. Literally moments after you were balls-deep in me.”

“Don’t call me that, Y/N,” Andy squinted at you in agitation. “Is that why you stopped picking up my calls?”

“What do you think?”

He sighed softly, “If it’s any consolation, I’ve been trying to do better. I talk to a… counselor… every now and then. Everything’s just been different ever since they passed, you know? It’s hard to form connections after your most intimate ones disappear in the blink of an eye.”

You frowned a bit at the man, and set down your fork. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

“Do you, though? Get it?”

“Not really. I was just trying to be supportive,” you turned a bit in your seat to get a better view of Andy. “I just wonder if we had this conversation a year ago if you and I would be in a better position now. I really liked you a lot.”

Andy was silent for a moment, and observed you pensively. “Let’s try again, then. It seems like you and I both are ready for something new.”

“Oh Andy,” you rubbed the back of your neck anxiously. “I just got out of a relationship less than a day ago.”

“Then we can take this, whatever it might end up being, slow. It would be nice to have a friend around who doesn’t just want to talk about work, and tell me that they’re sorry for my loss.”

You nodded, “I’ll probably need a shoulder to cry on at some point sooner than later.”

“So... friends?”

“Friends,” you agreed with a smile and a lift of your shoulders. 

Part of you hoped that maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something great.

[athingofvikings]

I don’t usually do “call-out” posts, but this case is particularly egregious.  It’s not strictly plagiarism, but it definitely qualifies as some form of creative dishonesty, and I need to vent on it.

So last night (Nov 15, 2020), I saw that my “Related Works” tab on AO3 had iterated up a digit and went to investigate.

What I saw made my blood boil.

“An Englishman Among Vikings” by Heinkelboy05

Checking the comments, I found that, unsurprisingly, the serial liar had lied again, saying, flat out, that he hadn’t worked with me on his story.

So.  

Let me get the record straight.

Here is his first message on ffnet, note the date:

May 27, 2018 

Hello there. This is Heinkelboy05. I'm a 21 year old college student studying to become a history teacher. I'm a big history buff and I try to incorporate it into my stories. My current story is one based on the game Valkyria Chronicles set in an alternate version of 1935. It's mostly historical though with some twists into it. Anyway, before I bore you with anymore details, just bought I'd let you know that I've been reading your story and it inspired me to try and do something similar here for HTTYD. I'm still working on it and trying to get some historical background and such. It's going to have historical information but also some small twists here and there as well. Still working a bit on finding historical information on some things. This one is going to be set earlier in the Viking Era. Just thought I'd let you know.

I responded positively, because hey, why wouldn’t I?

And thus, with the hook set, he reeled me in, talking exclusively about his own work.  We shifted to talking on Discord quickly, but it was just draining to talk to him; he only ever wanted to discuss his own ideas, and he wanted real-time discussions; he would ping me with “free to talk?” and if I wasn’t there right then, he would go off-line.  Once I didn’t get there in time for a week, and I got a passive-aggressive comment that basically was designed to guilt me.  

But, hey, I’m a nice guy, right?  So I invited him to the ATOV Discord server in October 2018, after we’d been working on his story for nearly five months.  

And once he was invited in, he settled in to feed like a vampire at a boarding school dormitory.  

In the following 18 months, he almost never engaged with other people on the server outside of his writing, just pushing his own drafts regularly, and whining that he wasn’t getting any feedback or interest.  Once, he even pinged @everyone because he wanted attention and feedback on the draft he’d just posted.  

And then he made a mistake.  The specific details amount to this: He had claimed back in his first message above that “I’ve been reading your story”, and I had taken it on good faith that he was a reader of mine.  

He wasn’t.

Because in April, he asked in the history discussion channel if anyone had heard of a historical group who show up in a major fashion in my story.

@kalessinsdaughter confronted him later and got him to admit that he’d read “less than half” (i.e. almost certainly a lot less) of my work.

He gave me an “I’m sorry I got caught” nonpology, clearly hoping for a return to the status quo.  

He didn’t get it.  

The long and the short of what followed is that we didn’t kick him from the server immediately; meanwhile, he tried a half-assed charm offensive to try to bribe his way back into my good graces.  I saw right through it, and he ended up getting so offensive and hypocritical that at the end of June, after a breathtakingly disgusting display of White Privilege, I told him that he could either leave or wait for me to find an excuse within the server rules to ban him.

He left.

Last night, I saw that my “Related Works” tab on AO3 had iterated, and went to check it out.

After two years of working on it, he had finally started posting the fic that he had badgered me and others to help him with.

And in the comments was this.

https://archiveofourown.org/comments/363482519

PoeticalHufflepuff on Chapter 2 Sun 15 Nov 2020 11:10AM EST

Oh wow, this looks interesting! The premise reminds me a lot of A Thing Of Vikings, but set later in history. Did you work with him on it?

Heinkelboy05 on Chapter 2 Sun 15 Nov 2020 05:17PM CET

No, I did not. I do however read his story. I’m having this series tied to the events of the HTTYD series to differentiate it from ATOV.

“No, I did not work with him on it.”

Now, the premise of his story is very similar to mine, and that’s fine.  

But, well.  *motions to entire history*

I left a response earlier this morning.  Since I’m not sure if he’ll delete my comment or not, I’ll copy the full text here.

athingofvikings on Chapter 2 Mon 16 Nov 2020 09:42AM CET

Well. Imagine my surprise when my "Related Works" value on my dashboard iterated up a digit last night and I found this waiting at the other end. And then, just to make it worse, I decided to check the comments out of some masochistic impulse and found you lying--as usual.

I suppose I should feel shocked, I really should, given just how brazen this lie is, but I'm not. Because it's always all about you... well, I'm not surprised that those months I spent "working with you" nearly every day two summers ago--remember those days? back before I invited you to the ATOV Discord server?--doesn't count as having "worked with you". Still. Just wow. It's amazing. I knew that you were a Grade-A self-centered asshole, but this really takes the cake. You lied to me, used me, and took advantage of my kindness for two years, and now you have the sheer unremitted gall to deny that I gave my time and effort trying to help you before I realized how much of an emotional vampire you are?

So, let me make this clear to anyone reading this, and I'll be posting this elsewhere as well: I do not accept this work as "inspired by" my own. It was made abundantly clear during Heinkel's time on the ATOV server that he hadn't actually read my work, and that persisted until he was caught in a direct lie on it. Before being caught, he spent nearly two years feeding on people's attention and not giving back to the community I had built; one of the other authors there described trying to help him as "exhausting". Prior to when he was invited to the server (by me in one of my biggest mistakes), he portrayed himself to me as being one of my readers who needed help with his own work. I gave that help freely--and it was exhausting, because he was this weird combination of "I want more clicks/attention", "I want historical accuracy like you do" and "I want these specific ahistorical elements because they're Cool" that just made dealing with him a chore.

I'm not going to call him a plagiarist, because that would require him to have read my work first, and he only did that past the first few chapters after he was caught in his lie. Yes, he took the general premise that I had come up with, but it's so mutilated by the inclusion of ahistorical elements that it's an 'in-name-only' Hollywood-style adaptation, akin to Artemis Fowl, and that's not plagiarism. Anything he might have taken from me directly was just from the first few chapters, because that's all he read before he was caught lying.

But while he's not a plagiarist, he IS a toxic, creatively dishonest, attention-starved, self-centered, exploitive and all-around inconsiderate jackass who used me, used my community, and lied to me all the while, all the while pretending that he was morally upstanding (remember that time you AllLivesMattered my explanation on antisemitism, Heinkel? I remember. I was explaining why my people are so hated and you had to butt in with a "Well, I'm so morally upstanding and good!" comment; pity that you don't actually practice what you said there). When he was caught in his lie by his own clumsiness--he asked if "anyone heard of the Jomsvikings" after they'd been a part of ATOV for years--and after having presented himself as a reader of ATOV for years, he desperately hoped that he wouldn't be called to account. And when he was called on it, he admitted to my friend that he had read "less than half" of my story and gave me an "I'm sorry I got caught" nonpology. I cannot and WILL NOT forgive him for all of that. This lie that he never worked with me on this story is just par for the course with him.

So go ahead and write your fic, Heinkel. It's clear that I can't stop you, and neither can your sense of shame or your sense of honesty, while your sense of integrity has been demonstrably MIA for a while now. But as I told you before I threw you out of the server, you're not getting anything more from me. Not attention, not acceptance, not friendship, not readers. You lied to me for two years, and this is just more of the same self-centered falsehoods. First you kept whining at me to pay attention to you, and passive-aggressively sniping at me when I didn't hop to it, did the same on the server because you were so desperate for attention of any kind--I haven't forgotten that you pinged @everyone because you wanted feedback without having to work at it by giving back to the community--and now you're saying that all of hours I spent helping you in good faith didn't exist, all of the time you spent getting advice and help from people on my server didn't exist.

And now you have the gall to say that you didn't work on it with me.

I only wish that I was surprised.

~~~

So that’s the situation.  

Don’t go harassing the guy.  Don’t report him to AO3--while skeezy, he hasn’t violated the TOS as far as I can tell.  

But I had to get that off my chest.  

[kg2hub]

so let’s talk about the kindergarten amino. 

there are issues we need to address like grown ups, which some certain people refuse to do.

i’m not gonna lie, i avoided getting amino for the longest time because i am aware of how much of a festering cesspool of toxicity it is there. it’s terrifying, how shitty people can be on there honestly. the community?  garbage. absolute garbage, and despite not having an account there i personally know my friends have been affected by the utter bullshit that goes on in there.

sure, i know many of the wonderful creators there, good friends who mean the world to me, and amazing talented mutuals of mine spanning multiple social media platforms who are on the amino as well. good people exist. but so do the bad ones, and it seems on amino specifically, the bad people are more prevalent there.

it’s kind of really stupid, how much of a horrible place that app is, and yet the kindergarten communities i’ve personally witnessed on tumblr, discord, instagram-- are so much kinder, supportive and not at all what a certain mod team describes. 

how curious! it’s almost as if the behaviour you allow freely in a community breeds likeminded people in that community! :) mindblowing, isn’t it?

on that topic. the kindergarten amino mods. 

according to the oxford dictionary1, a moderator is defined as being 1. a person whose job is to help people or groups who disagree to reach an agreement ;  4. ​a person who is responsible for preventing offensive material from being published on a website. 

notice how none of these definitions say anything about uhhhhh “talking like a simp” lmao? 

like what they said to a friend of mine who asked why she didn’t get the mod position she applied for and when she asked what was “wrong” with the way she spoke to people when they answered her, case in point:

:)

under the cut, here are the requirements for how a kga mod is supposedly obligated to speak to people, straight from the mod team themselves (and how the above and below are incredibly unfitting for someone supposedly in a moderator’s position):

the above images are the message that came before the first screenshot from the convo from my friend shown above the cut. now, let me point out the issues with this list. the 1st definition of “moderator” portrays a mod as helping two parties reach an agreement with one another after an argument. the 4th definition of “moderator” is someone who is responsible for preventing offensive material from being published on a website (in this case, app)

“talk casual” is not applicable to these definitions. this has little to no relation to how a mod may mediate a situation, but there are a few conceivable pros and cons.

pros: both parties in an argument may find them easier to talk to, and might understand each other’s points better when explained in terms that come off as relaxed and not like a serious adult wagging their finger at a child. 

cons: the exact opposite might happen due to the fact they will sound less professional and may be taken less seriously, and there is no guaranteed way the two parties in question will interpret the mod’s efforts in either a good or bad way. 

in conclusion, speaking casually to someone as a mod is not important nor does it affect how the actual act of moderation occurs. “speak respectfully” is the phrase you’re looking for, kga mods. it doesn’t matter how formal or casual you are, as long as you’re not straight up being a dick to anyone.

“try to make negatives sound neutral” is, in other words, deliberately wording a situation to avoid taking one specific side of an argument. --the issue with this, is that there are some situations that are rooted in facts, and you cannot change a negative fact to “make it sound neutral” because it exists in reality as a negative fact no matter what you think or how you try to convince yourself otherwise. there are cases where one person is wrong and one person is right, and that is the end of that. there are cases where it doesn’t matter what the user’s intent behind their actions were; well-meaning or not, if they did something wrong, they did something wrong. tell them what they did wrong, issue a warning, let them apologize and move on if they won’t do it again. if they’re a repeat offender, take the appropriate actions for the situation and deal with it responsibly as the person in the authoritative position. end of story.

there are differences between petty arguments (eg. who is the “best” character), and serious matters that should be dealt in a serious way (eg. art theft, rape jokes, bullying). nothing in this world is completely black and white, but there is a clear difference between what will harm a person, and what will not; what is good for the sake of a community, and what isn’t. and frankly, if you think you can dispute that and take a neutral side on urgent issues anyway, you are incredibly mistaken. 

this can be a tactic used for de-escalation, absolutely, and for making sure you aren’t inserting your personal opinions into the argument by looking at it from an objective point of view. but it is not fit for every situation, and the fact that it’s listed as “one of the ways a mod is supposed to talk to people” puts it in a checklist for the “standard” of how they should speak, which therefore implies that a mod needs to “try” to use it in every situation possible. instead of, you know, judging the situation and reacting accordingly rather than going a roundabout way that doesn’t go straight to solving the actual issue between users. i would count that specific point as bad wording on their part, but my point for all of this still stands regardless.

“be patient” does play an important part of handling arguments between two people, i will agree with that. it’s advisable to be the calm, rational one when dealing with two people whose emotions are influencing them to only see their side and no one else’s. that’s only assuming the situation isn’t as serious as other ones may be, however, and that there are multiple sides to the argument at all. 

of course this isn’t the case for other things that are much worse, and if we recall the 4th definition of a moderator in modern, internet-associated terms, it is the mod’s duty to prevent offensive, harmful material from being posted on a website. not everything can be solved with patience and talking things out when someone is breaking the rules. a moderator also needs to be able to put their foot down when needed, and take action especially in the case that the mod isn’t actually being listened to.

as a person being confronted by a mod, it’s easy to say you agree and won’t do it again but you’ll just do it again anyway. which is why punishment, repercussions, consequences (banning, reporting, etc) are put in place to prevent these things from happening. relying only on talking things out cannot and will not stop people from doing what they want, if they don’t listen and have no desire to change for the better.

“try to make your users comfortable while talking to you” is not applicable in every situation either. of course it’s important to ensure you are respected as a mod, and that you are respectful towards other people as well. it’s nice to have a friendly disposition when talking to people, so they aren’t intimidated or scared of you, or think you’re stuck up or unlikable or mean and whatever else. 

but in the end, it doesn’t really matter what everyone thinks of you, whether you’re a mod or not. not everyone will like you at any given point, ever. that’s just a fact of life. what matters as a mod, is doing your job properly. the way others see you is a factor in it, sure, but as a mod you will always inherently be someone who some others are a little jumpy when talking to you. but most people also don’t have any reason to be uncomfortable if they aren’t doing anything wrong in the first place. if they’re hurting people and being toxic, it doesn’t matter how comfortable they are when talking to you.

in addition, it’s possible to be amicable while also being firm and direct about moderation work. and it is also possible to separate how you speak in a friendly conversation with someone, compared to speaking to someone who has seriously messed up and broken the rules. 

“smiley face trademarked” this straight up has nothing to do with being a mod. it’s just a typing quirk. it’s not important to what makes someone a mod. it also is typically used for passive aggressiveness so. if the kga staff wants to come off to their community that way, i am not fishing out the one (1) radioactive shoe in the sewers that is the kindergarten amino. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“de-escalate situations or try to stay calm” does fit exactly with what i was talking about earlier. this is the 1st definition of moderators, and essentially is part of their job. i legitimately don’t have objections to this, that haven’t already been said, because it is a mod’s job to keep the peace between the people in an online community.

this message came after the list they provided, before the screenshot of my friend asking if her not sugarcoating things was the issue. for context, she had challenged their authority before this instance, and critiqued the way the mods would usually handle situations. in that, they don’t actually handle the situation and would opt for “being a simp” rather than solving the issue. (keeping this in mind, it’s hard not to suspect they rejected her because of past hostility against her for speaking her mind before this.)

it’s not hard to change the way you speak according to the situation. you don’t talk to the principal (or your boss if you’re older), the same way you would talk to your best friend, or the way you would talk to a sibling, and you don’t speak to a stranger on the street, or significant other in any of those ways too. 

it doesn’t matter how she spoke when she critiqued the mods. the way she spoke for that occasion was appropriate for the topic, and does not in any way correlate or give any indication to how she would speak to a general person if she was in a mod position.

it doesn’t matter about how “relatable” you are as a mod either. that has nothing to do with moderation and does not make you do your job any better or any less than someone who “isn’t relatable” whatever the fuck that means. 

a teacher can be relatable all they want, but they can and will get booted from their job if they’re, y’know, not actually doing their job; aka teaching. a teacher can teach without being engaging in any way for the students at all, and that arguably isn’t good either, but the difference is, as much as the students may not like it, that’s not a requirement for their job, hence why a teacher would not get fired for being boring but still getting information through to their students, but a teacher would get fired for not teaching no matter how fun, relatable, or friendly they are. 

the power a mod has is supposed to be used to moderate, while “being relatable” is not needed, even though it can be beneficial, to actually do your job properly.

ah yes, this screenshot again. urban dictionary’s 1st definition of “simp” is:  Someone who will say anything to please someone, particularly a girl, in the hopes that they will be in good favor with that person.

and that really speaks for itself why simps are unfit to be in a moderator position. essentially, they are suck ups. fakes. they will, by this definition, say anything to win the good graces of other people, to win approval, and make people like them. --and as i mentioned before, this is not the job of a mod in any way, shape or form.

it is not beneficial for a mod to suck up to someone who is breaking the rules and hurting others. it doesn’t matter what the community’s opinion is of how likable a mod is; the mod is the person in a position of power, and it is their job to make sure no one is breaking the rules or posting anything harmful to others or to the community. that has nothing to do with popularity contests.

and, this shows how these mods handle situations if they “talk like a simp” to the perpetrators. it’s a substantial reason why this mod team doesn’t actually get their work done if this is the way they speak to people. to talk in this manner means they are not really telling the perpetrators what they’re doing wrong and trying to get them to stop, but are rather encouraging and enabling them to keep doing terrible things because of the fact that “it will please them, and that person will think good of the mods”

--another point i should talk about, is the “we have to be kind and try to understand” part of what they said. 

according to one of my friends, some people in the kga mod team are over 18?? i don’t know if this is true, and i don’t really care. but if it is, maybe fucking act like it lmao. if you really are adults-- even some young teenagers already know this-- but you should already know it is completely possible to be kind and polite to someone while disagreeing with them and telling them they are wrong and what they did is wrong. 

it’s word choice. there is a deliberate difference between choosing to type “wow you’re so stupid, don’t you know you’re not allowed to post this? delete it, dipshit” and “hey there! this post doesn’t fit the posting guidelines, so please take this down. thanks!” 

there’s also a neat little thing where a person can understand why a person did something and the reasons why they think something is right, looking at an opinion that is not their own and the contexts for why other people may think that way-- but still realize that it’s fundamentally wrong and they shouldn’t do that anyway! it’s called critical thinking. it comes with the experience of growing up, which, doesn’t necessarily correlate to how old a person is. 

so even if the mods are adults, they have no excuse for not being able to connect saying things in a kind way while also being firm about moderating and doing their job without being a doormat. 

we, as adults, are supposed to be the responsible ones when dealing with minors, and mods are the designated responsible ones over every member of an online community by proxy. by now, you should have learned these things. but i will acknowledge that not all people may be mentally capable of thinking and speaking this way as easily as others. and that’s fine and dandy and doesn’t make them a bad person-- but that also means they should not be mods in the first place if they can’t deal with things objectively but respectfully and kind at the same time.

--kinda funny how that screenshot under the simp screenshot practically agrees with that notion, huh!

( plus the fact those under 13 are not allowed to use amino in the first fucking place, yet they allow a fucking 12 year old to join without doing anything about it?? children should not be on that app until they’re old enough. it’s detrimental to them and everyone around them, and unsafe for them especially. i’m pretty sure more than two people are aware of this incident, and the fact the mods did nothing about it? pure incompetence. )

^ she put it pretty well in her own words too.

and now onto this bullshit. i, on the other hand do not personally know these people on the kga mod team, but i do not care for their opinions on me considering i don’t know them and do not care for the amino community-- nor do i have the obligation to suspend my belief on whether they truly are lovely people or not. 

they allowed my friends to get hurt, everything i’ve seen from them is incompetence, and frankly, the simp one especially made me actively lose braincells trying to comprehend that any human on this planet thinks that is a legitimate, reasonable response to anyone in any situation. if it was a joke, it is their fault for putting a poorly placed joke in the middle of a serious conversation. if it wasn’t a joke, i really cannot fathom how anyone believes that is an intelligent or beneficial way to talk to people while moderating.

anyway. that response of theirs? that passive aggressive “don’t say thank you when you hate us :)” while disregarding literally everything else my friend said is incredibly childish on the mod’s part. i have legitimate trouble believing anyone but a child is typing these arguments, and i’m not saying this to be mean, but i seriously cannot imagine with every single one of my synapses, that an adult would make such a halfassed “argument” like that.

on the other hand, twitter drama exists. so. perhaps i can believe there are adults who can’t communicate properly.

either way, their true age has no relation to the immature behaviour they show throughout this conversation. child or not, adult or not, they are still being unreasonable and immature and the bottom line is that these people really shouldn’t be mods.

“the next message probably isn’t me so like don’t blame kga staff” that really does not sound like anything but an excuse to say whatever you want without actually owning up to your actions. 

a friend when i was 11 would say shitty things to me and then say “omg i’m soooo sorry that wasn’t me, my cousin used my computer!!” and that sounds just like that imo. 

i will give the benefit of the doubt for this one assuming multiple mods are using that account(?) but the “don’t blame kga staff” makes zero sense, like my friend says. if someone from your mod team says something, it means you all either agree with it (especially considering it seems you only let people like yourself and not anyone with varied opinions become mods) or you would have to retract the statement as a team and own up to what your actual opinions are. you can have individual opinions as individual mods, but i’m pretty sure that if you say things as the kga staff as a whole, it must be assumed those opinions are at least shared with most if not all members.

there are problems involving the kga staff. of course the entire kga staff will be blamed, no matter who the individual was, for causing problems in the first place.

“abrasive and downright impulsive” buddy, you and your little mod posse have had these issues spanning several months, according to my friends. there’s nothing impulsive about poking the hornet’s nest repeatedly and then getting surprised when you get stung. or in this case, called out with the truth. because the truth isn’t “abrasive”, it’s just real. 

consider: you’re being spoken to this way because you won’t listen to literally any other way whenever your inadequacies of being mods has been brought up in the past lmao. being nice obviously hasn’t worked (oh the irony). what else do you expect to happen?

“if everyone despised us and we put no effort into getting a little liked from the community [...]” you said “simp” behaviour was required for all mods. there’s a huge fucking difference between “too nice to mod properly or tell people what they’re doing wrong”, and being well liked and respected while still being competent. again, being liked by everyone is not what makes someone The Best Mod(tm). doesn’t matter if you don’t actually do your job.

“the problems aren’t with the entire staff. so I don’t see the need to blame everyone” this is exactly like saying “this cancer tumor isn’t affecting all of your body so i don’t see the need to remove it before it gets worse”

“the reason we need this more lighthearted [...] and those involved in the problem” again. it is entirely possible to be kind to someone while also dealing with problems in a responsible manner.

yep. as she said, the kga staff is the first one to throw insults at her, not the other way around. and it is incredibly hypocritical of them to talk that way. not very simp-like when you’re directly being called out on the shit you’re doing wrong, huh :) 

and you heard it here folks; the kga staff doesn’t care about the opinions and critical feedback of it’s own members! “a bad opinion based on next to nothing” you mean the stuff you sweep under the rug and the shit she’s personally witnessed the whole time she’s been on that amino?

sure, that first mod is not specifically responsible for what the second one said. but you’re both still mods, and whole idea of being a mod is being responsible for others in the first place. and that responsibility includes amongst yourselves. if you don’t know how to police your fellow mods (and on the case if it happened, speak up if another mod is being corrupt), can you really expect anyone to believe you can moderate other people if you don’t know how to check yourselves first?

“you’ve never been a mod. you can’t judge how we do our jobs” that is a shitty argument and always has been since the dawn of time. 99.99% of people have never and will never be president or work in parliament. that doesn’t stop them from criticizing how the government runs things. the majority of an audience have never worked on a movie set before. that doesn’t stop them from saying whether they thought the movie was absolute shit. they don’t have to know how much “hard work” is put into being a mod to judge you. what matters is the outcome, they see the outcome, and will judge you because the outcome directly affects them. 

and in both of the above situations, the feedback from the outsiders are incredibly vital and influence the way the government, or the movie directors, make their next move. because if the next move they make is complete nonsensical garbage to everyone else? they’re ruined. they have to listen to everyone else or their reputation, and trust everyone else has for them, will suffer. it’s the exact same thing in an online community where its members create the content, and this is just the way humans function. she, and i, and many others of us who agree with her absolutely can judge the way you do your jobs, and at the same time you have the option of not listening. but that option isn’t always the best option for the sake of the community. these are what people who are actually fit to be mods have to decide, whether they actually want to listen to the people they’re governing, or if they’d rather avoid facing the many, many issues in their community and admitting the fact they fucked up. i’m pretty sure we all know what the kga staff is gonna pick.

you people really shouldn’t have become mods if you’re so sensitive to criticism and can’t handle confrontation. i’m pretty sure the critique you’ve been given was never a personal attack on you as people, but the point of it was, and is, to make you better mods. something which you don’t seem to care about doing.

i’m almost done here.

i have a whole bunch of disclaimers in the event whoever-the-fuck decides to argue with me on all of this. because goddammit i am a tired adult and i don’t give a shit about “mean anons” who are gonna attempt to out-logic my logic because by the end of this post, i will be done here. i will laugh as i delete your asks, on the assumption anyone will actually bother trying to fight me after everything i said. i don’t feel i’ve wasted my time with this post, but i will not waste my time arguing further with some random person on the internet. 

i’m 1000% aware that being a mod for this amino is not a serious thing. i don’t care. i know it’s not a job job where you’re getting paid to actually do shit so you don’t really have to do anything at all. which is probably why the amino community sucks so bad. i’m just saying, being in that mod position still means you’re fucking responsible for when people get hurt in your community, and when people post inappropriate shit. it may not matter to you, and it may not matter in your life in the long run, but those experiences matter to someone. and it will always be, in part, your fault because your mod team was responsible for it at the time. if you don’t care? i don’t care that you don’t care. it won’t change the fact you let people get hurt and have no regrets about it. which is even worse. 

yes, i wrote all of this out. i typed out this longass fucking essay for a few hours of my life despite that these people are likely never going to read this, or care, or take into consideration anything i said because they clearly can’t handle criticism-- because of the sheer amount of salt i have for these children, these adults, these people who can’t fucking do their jobs right. i haven’t wasted my time typing this, and i don’t care if other people see it that way because i don’t. and unlike some people, i’m not so insecure in myself that i care so much about what other people think. i wanted to do this. i’m happy with this decision. i don’t care that this isn’t a “real issue” or that “i could have done better things with my time” or “wow i’m a loser with no life” sure, thanks. honestly this was a better use of my time than staring at youtube all day. so. what i care about is that real people are affected by the things this excuse for a mod team has been pulling for way too long.

yes, i talked about how it’s easy to be kind while being firm. no, i am not being kind but the difference is that i am fully aware of it because i am making the choice to not put up with this bs. yes i’m some adult on the internet getting riled up that these people are trashy af. because some of the people i do care about are involved. your point?

and if you’re one of those mods on the kga and will not read all of this? i don’t care for your short attention span. mine’s the size of a goldfish’s too, dw. you read it and don’t care about what i have to say? great! here’s an uno reverse card. i do not know the mods or have any desire to know them based on what i do know of them. if they are willing to actually be reasonable, i may change my mind. until then, this criticism still stands.

no, i do not use amino other than the salt account i made today just to see firsthand what things go on there in the first place. i don’t care what happens to that account and have zero plans on posting on it. other than maybe a salt post, maybe. a specific phrase that really stuck as i was browsing was the community being described by one of the mods as an “emo daycare”. like i said way earlier in this post, the behaviour you freely allow is what breeds likeminded people in a community. that means: it’s your own fault that your community consists of mostly horrible, toxic people. if you actually did your work as mods, you wouldn’t have that issue with the people in the first place :) 

it is the kindergarten fandom, but that doesn’t mean you all have to act like a bunch of kindergarteners. everything they said about the fandom is completely wrong if you actually look in the right places and, y’know, stop keeping your head in radioactive sand like a fucking ostrich while refusing to look at everything else around you. i am personally friends with so many talented individuals for this fandom, and in my experience this fandom has done nothing but good for me and my overall creativity.

no, of course i’m not above criticism either. unlike some people i am rather open to it and am aware it is important and something everyone needs to deal with in their own lives including me. i just don’t care for petty squabbling. i do have better things to do after this post, after all. i’ve said everything i needed to say, and @ whatever else the people who may disagree think of this? c’est la vie. so. yeah. i’m done here, that was me being pissed off by the sheer lack of braincells i’ve witnessed tonight, gonna draw now, bye.

[missingrobin]

Unconditional (part one) Hope

part 2

Description: Love. Lies. Heartbreak. A recipe for disaster. When you move to Riverdale you have to face your dark past and a possibly hopeful future.

Pairing:Sweet Pea x Reader, Jughead x Reader 

Warning:language, mentions of death, drugs,violence, underage drinking (just don’t get triggered)

Word Count: 2127

A/N: Hi my loves this is my first fanfic and I’m so excited to dive into this series with you. I poured my heart and soul into this so please give it a read I’m so proud of it. If you have any questions don’t hesitate to send me an ask.

The night was finally starting to set in. Owls called  in every direction. Violent  trees shook their leaves. On a long paved road Y/N was driving to start her new life in Riverdale…

Your first stop was at a large bar on the wrong side of the tracks. You knew immediately that this was the rough part of town by the trailer homes that marked the road and the motorcycles lining the bar. It was obviously a bad idea to stop at this bar but you had no choice. It was either this or get stuck in the copious amounts of rain pouring down.  Even though the rain was not ideal for this situation you couldn’t get over the sweet smell and the dewy weather, it was the best . As you pulled into the grimy parking lot you noticed tall figures standing in front of the bar door, The figures were wrapped inside jackets marked with a snake. You parked your 2008 Mustang Bullitt and got out. The heel of your boots clattered loudly as you  walked toward the figures, you were automatically met with force. One of the taller boys moved toward you with purpose; he flicked a switch blade from out of his jacket pocket and pressed it against your chin. You weren't phased though you had your fair share of violence in your life and you knew that if it came down to a fight you would be the one walking out. The tallest boy quietly spoke with fiery passion.

“What are you doing around here pretty goulie,” questioned the boy.

Confusion marked your face you’d never heard that term before. 

“I’m sorry asshole but I don’t know what the hell a goulie is,” you replied. 

The boy obviously knew you weren't a goulie by you parking your car in their lot and walking over alone but he was testing you to see if she could handle it.

“Well if you’re not a goulie then who the fuck are you?”

Behind the boy you heard an older man call out.

“Sweet Pea what the hell are you doing just bring the girl inside I’m sure she doesn't mean no harm.”

The boy who was called Sweet Pea was obviously annoyed that the older man corrected his behavior. A look of irritability washed over his face and he rolled his eyes and put the knife away.

“Follow me princess” says the one called Sweet Pea 

You flash a quick and passive aggressive smile toward him and walk through the bar doors. The bar was awfully dark inside. Pool tables were scattered around the floor and with many people surrounding them, dart boards were in use and other people resided at the bar where a short girl with pink hair stood and made drinks for thirsty patrons. It looked as if she flashed you a smile on your way in. When you finally stopped looking around you came face to face with a tall dark haired man with the same leather jacket on.

“My name’s FP Jones I’m in charge of this bar, who are you and why are you in our part of town, girl?”

You took slight offense to this since you were turning 18 in 3 weeks and You’ve been on your own since you could remember.

“I’m Y/N,  I’m new to town and I was just trying to find a place to lay low till the weather calmed down if that’s alright with you,” you said with a slight snark in your voice.

That response amazed FP and all of the other members of the Serpents because no one ever dared come in their bar and talk to them like that. They immediately knew they liked this girl.

“Hey is it alright with yall if Ms.Y/N stays?” FP hollered

“Hell Yeah” responded most in the bar except Sweet Pea.

Sweet Pea had been glaring at you since you stepped out of your car. He didn’t trust this interesting new girl that just happened to step foot in his bar.  

The crowd settled and Y/N took a seat at the bar where the pink haired girl greeted her with a smile. 

“HI I’m Toni Topaz,” 

Hi I’m Y/N L/N, What's his deal?” you ask as you point to Sweet Pea who has been glaring at you  for the past 20 minutes.

“Oh, Sweet Pea has issues with new people.” Toni sighed 

“Well he needs to get over himself I didn’t do shit to him.” you spit rapidly 

“Hey girl chill I know don’t get all worked up, lemme get you a drink” Toni replied trying to ease your obvious anger.

The whole drive here has been a shit show. First you ran into some trouble with a gang on your way out of California, then you lost your keys for 20 minutes when they were just in your cup holder, now this. All you wanted was to start a new life away from the gangs, the lovers, and the danger but somehow you’ve already fucked that up by landing in this shit hole.

“Strawberry Daiquiri please,” you finally came out of your hase of thought and emotion.

“Alright, anyways what's going on with you Y/N what's your story?” Toni eyed you 

A tear rolled down your cheek, you quickly wiped it away so she wouldn’t notice but she did.

You broke into everything that you’ve been holding inside. You were definitely scared to say these things out loud but talking about it lifted a weight off of your chest. By the time you were finished with your drink you had told Toni your whole life story. The good. The bad. And the very very ugly. You even told her about the night you lost your parents and little brother in a car crash and the night you left for Riverdale to escape your fucking psycho ex boyfriend Nico You didn’t realize that a tsunami rolled down your face but at this point you didn’t care you were done with lies.You didn’t know why you trusted her but you just did you knew that she wasn’t as judgmental as the girls in California.

“Holy Fuck Y/N” Toni exclaimed 

Toni jumped over the bar and came to give you a huge hug. You wanted to keep your strong bad bitch persona but all of the shit you’ve been dealing with came crashing down in that moment. 

“Bad bitches cry to Y/N it's okay there’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Toni whispered as you continued to cry on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry Toni I don’t know where all that came from” you whimpered wiping the tears from your face. 

Mascara smudged all down your cheeks. Toni looked up at you and giggled. You took out your phone to look at the damage you had done. You giggled as well

1:11 am your phone read

The rain hadn’t slowed at all so you came to terms that you would be spending the night at the bar. You didn’t care that your makeup was fucked so you just continued talking to Toni like nothing just happened. 

“Hey you know if you need anything I’m always gonna be there for you” Toni smiled and grabbed your hand.

“Thanks Toni I really appreciate it.” you remarked 

“Where are you gonna be staying for the time being” Toni questioned

“Well I was just going to rent a room at that bed and breakfast up the road till I could find a place” you replied.

“If you want you can stay with me, I have my own trailer over by that road into town” Toni remarked

“Wait are you serious?”

“Yeah I’m serious dork.” Toni replied with rolling her eyes 

“Yes oh my god yes that would be amazing!” your whole mood perked up with the thought

“Okay great cause it gets really lonely not having another girl around.” Toni sighed

“Wait, you don’t have any other girl friends?” you questioned

“Nah I don’t, but I have Jug, Sweet Pea, and Fangs and now you I guess haha.” 

You really liked Toni. You trusted her immensely. She was kind and genuine from the start. You both chatted the night away at the end you were basically best friends. Toni caught glances from other serpents as you laughed loudly. She also explained all the Serpent and Goulie drama that you’ve stepped foot in. You were hella anxious what this new city would bring and who it might bring along but you were ready to face anything head on.

Then suddenly Sweet Pea walked over to you and Toni.  

“Hey Y/N I’m sorry for giving you such a hard time. I just don’t take it well when new people just start showing up.” Sweet pea sighed 

He was obviously gorgeous and you’re type but that doesn’t change the fact that he pulled a fucking knife on you.

“It's fine” you replied coolly 

“Alright then.” 

Oh you were sure that you didn’t like this asshole but you were just going to get used to him.

You continued your conversation with Toni and learned secrets that she hadn’t told anyone. You told Toni about Nico and your relationship with him and how manipulative he was.

“I met him a few months after my family's accident, he was the kindest and sweetest person I had ever met. He took care of me when no one else was there for me. I fell for him immediately. I was always a hopeless romantic but with Nico it felt like it was instant. He had the most beautiful hazel eyes, he looked like he was carved by the gods but there was one problem he was a possessive crazy drug dealing psycho. He didn’t let me go anywhere and once when I was talking to one of his guards he screamed at me and ordered his men to get rid of him. I never saw him again. After that I knew I had to get away by any means necessary, that night I went to his safe and stole a shit ton of drug money, I grabbed all my personal items, and I got the hell outta there.” you finished your story

You didn’t realize that the bar had gone silent while you were telling your story. You looked up to find all eyes on you and everyone was in shock. 

“Holy fuck” you heard some man exclaim. 

FP came to the front to talk to you.

“Y/N we’re all here for you, As long as you’re with the serpents you have protection no one’s gonna fuck with you.” FP said with complete confidence 

“They’re dangerous FP and Nico’s a fucking maniac he will look for me and when he finds me he’s gonna kill anyone who trys to stop him” you said sadly 

“We’ll worry about that when it comes, for now just get settled in town are you in school?” FP asked 

“Yeah I am I registered at South Side High yesterday, and I have a job interview at Pops on Monday.” you responded 

“Forget pops you can have a job here if you want it would be a hell of a lot safer.” FP remarked combing back his sleek black hair with his hands.

“I’d love too thanks FP” excitement rolled over your body

You were so confused why people were being nice to you it was odd after all the months of torture you just went through. Life was finally starting to work out somehow and you were so thankful for it. Love and support surrounded you, a feeling that was lost 7 months ago.

People started slipping off to sleep all around the bar. Toni drifted to a slow slumber on a couch near a FP was off somewhere talking to his son and you were left to your own devices till the brutal Sweet Pea graced you with his presence. 

“Hey Y/N” he mumbled, taking a seat right next to you at the bar.

“Hi Sweet Pea” you were still annoyed about his behavior but you were way too tired to be pissed off at the moment.

“I’m sorry for being such a dick I didn’t know your life was that fucked haha” he laughed quietly 

“It’s okay not many people do.” you replied 

You broke into conversation with Sweet Pea. The sun came up and the rain slowed, your new life was finally starting and with a bang. You napped to prepare for the new adventures ahead. Will there be love? Will there be loss? Will Nico come for you? Will you make it out alive? 

Who knows I guess you have to continue reading to find out ;)

[pikapeppa]

Samson/f!Hawke smut: Hate

The title says it all. 😂 In all seriousness though, I present to you Samson and @schoute ‘s Roman Hawke and their first time having sex. 

Kink warning: some BDSM-ish undertones. Also featuring angst! And feels even though Roman would definitely punch you in the throat for suggesting she has any!

~7000 words. Read on AO3 instead.

**************************

Bullshit, Roman thought. This is all fucking bullshit.

She pushed open the door to the Hanged Man and skulked inside with a scowl. Despite her attempts to be discreet, the noise in the room immediately dimmed, then returned to normal volume — a volume that was enhanced, unfortunately, by murmurs about her. 

“Look, there she is! It’s Hawke!”

“Maker, she looks right pissed.”

“She always looks that way, you idiot.”

“More’n usual though, eh? If I’d come back alive from the deep roads with treasure up to me ears, I think I’d be a sight happier than that.”

Roman sneered. Hang the fucking treasure, she thought. As far as she was concerned, the treasure wasn’t worth the shit that she, Varric, Anders and Isabela had been through during the past few months of being stuck in that ancient thaig. If she was being honest, though, the seemingly-interminable trek through the deep roads wasn’t what was really enraging her.

She didn’t say any of this, though. She didn’t look at or speak to anyone. She made a beeline straight to the bar and sat on the corner stool, then gave the bartender a forbidding don’t-fucking-ask look as she waved him over.

He swallowed visibly as he drew near. “Evening, Hawke. What’ll you—” 

“Whiskey. Neat. Cheapest you’ve got,” Roman said. She pulled a gold royal out of her coin pouch and placed it on the bar. “And keep it coming.” 

The bartender’s eyes widened at the small fortune. “R-right away!” he said, and he snatched the coin from the bar. A moment later, he placed a stein on the bar and poured her a measure of whiskey, then placed the bottle in front of her.

She nodded wordlessly and gulped down the whiskey in two big swallows. It burned on the way down in a bad, shitty-liquor sort of way that would leave her throat sore in the morning, but the abrasive burn suited her mood perfectly.

She poured herself another generous drink, then plonked her elbows on the bar and moodily sipped from her stein. The Hanged Man was as lively as she remembered, half-lit by lantern light and noisy with music and shouting and drunken laughter, and it was… 

Fucking surreal, she thought. That’s what this was. It was surreal that life could go on so unchanged here in Kirkwall, while everything about Roman’s life felt like it had been upended yet again for the umpteenth time. 

In truth, she didn’t even really want to be here. But there was nowhere else for her to go. She didn’t want to go back to Gamlen’s right now; she was fucking sick of her family’s shit. There was Gamlen bitching and whining about not getting a cut of the treasure that Roman had brought back, and Leandra’s passive-aggressive bullshit about Roman being gone so long, and Carver… 

The anger pulsed in her ears at the thought of Carver. She took a deep breath to try and calm herself, then gulped down the rest of her drink and poured another. 

She could go to the Amell mansion now that it officially belonged to her family again. But frankly, she was sick of thinking about the fucking mansion. It was all she’d been thinking about for the past couple of weeks as they made their way back to Kirkwall from the ass-end of nowhere that Bartrand had left them for dead. She’d kept her mind on that mansion, on the fact that that was the reason she’d gone to the fucking deep roads and that she was going to get that fucking mansion back if it killed her. And now that she’d done it, the last thing she wanted was to be anywhere near the place.

She couldn’t go to Gamlen’s and she couldn’t go to the mansion, and she’d be damned before she asked Fenris or Merrill or anyone else for a place to crash for the night. So that left the Hanged Man. As long as she had her bottle of whiskey, she’d be just fine right here, thank you very much. 

She sipped her drink and closed her eyes to try and get a measure of peace, but a second later, someone spoke to her. 

“Hey,” Varric said.

She opened her eyes and glanced at him. “No offense, Varric, but I’m pretty sick of seeing your face.” She turned back to the bar and lifted her stein to her lips. “You’re better off leaving me alone.”

He huffed, impervious as always to her moods, and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “So I guess that’s a no to joining us for a hand of wicked grace?”

She glanced over his shoulder. Merrill, Anders, Isabela, and a handful of other random people were sitting at a table at the back and clearly waiting for Varric’s return.

Roman snorted and turned back to face the bar. “Not fucking likely. Sorry,” she added as an afterthought. It wasn’t Varric’s fault that her family were a bunch of ungrateful assholes. 

He patted her elbow. “No sweat. See you later.” He left her alone once more.

She shook her head slightly and sipped her drink. She’d never understand Varric’s constant ability to be around people — to find comfort in other people’s company. Comfort in the bottom of a bottle, sure. Comfort from being around others? That had never been Roman’s thing. 

Although if she was honest, there was one kind of ‘comfort’ that she wouldn’t mind getting from someone right now. A physical comfort she hadn’t had since long before their trip to the deep roads, and the lack of which was probably not helping her mood. 

And if Roman was being really, really honest with herself, there was only one person she really wanted to get that kind of ‘physical comfort’ from. 

Samson. She hadn’t seen him since a week or so before they’d left for the deep roads. She hadn’t told him she was leaving, because why the fuck would she, but… it had been a while since she’d seen him. Not that she cared how he was doing or anything. Not that she’d been imagining his sarcastic smile or the way he studied his dirty nails when he was making his snarky remarks or anything like that. 

Don’t think about him, she thought. He’s just a dirty beggar from Darktown. He doesn’t matter. He’s nobody. She pushed away the unwelcome thought of Samson’s weary bloodshot eyes and finished off her drink, then poured herself a fourth.

She was staring vacantly at the wall and nursing the dregs of her fourth whiskey when she smelled it: a warm and woody musk, overlaid with the distinct twang of lyrium. At first, she was sure she must be imagining it — conjuring his distinct scent in her mind since it had been so long. A second later, however, she heard his voice.

“I hear congratulations are in order, Lady Hawke,” Samson drawled.

Her heart stopped for a split second, then burst into a gallop. With great care, she shot him a venomous look. “Don’t fucking call me that. And what, now you remember my actual name?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Bird,” he said casually. He sat on the stool beside her — a bold move, since anyone with half a brain knew to give Roman a wide berth whenever she was in this sort of mood. Which, to be frank, was more often than not.

She sneered at him, then lifted her stein to her lips. “If you’re looking for a handout, go look somewhere else. I’m not in the mood.”

He leaned his elbows on the bar. “Like I’d take a handout from you, anyway. A man’s got his pride.”

She scoffed loudly. “Like hell you have. I’ve given you coin more times than I can count.” 

He chuckled softly — that gritty little heh-heh-heh that never failed to set her nerves on edge while also bringing them sparking to life. “Ah, I guess you’re right,” he said. “Guess I shouldn’t slander the wench who keeps me in the dust.” He leaned toward her with a smirk. “I’d almost think you’re soft for me, Bird.”

She wrinkled her nose and leaned away from him. “Get away from me. You smell.” It didn’t matter that she liked his unwashed-manly-man scent. That wasn’t the point. 

He clicked his tongue and shifted away from her. “Maker’s balls, you’re cranky. Is that how you treat someone who wants to buy you a drink to celebrate your fancy ladyship?”

She glared at him. “I’m not a fucking lady. And how d’you know about that, anyway?” Only this afternoon had she filed the paperwork to reinstate the nobility of the Amell name and to get the mansion back. If she wasn’t already drunk, she’d probably be a lot more pissed that he knew her personal business.

“Ears and eyes, Bird,” Samson said. “People low down hear lots of things from up top.” 

His expression was knowing and sly. Roman rolled her eyes. “You’re full of shit. Especially since I know you’re not here to buy me a drink. You have no coin, remember?”

He grunted an acknowledgement. “Eh. I’ve no coin, it’s true. Guess you’re right.”

She stared flatly at him and waited for him to say more, but when he just sat there staring back at her with his surprisingly pretty grey eyes, she tsked and waved to the bartender. 

“Give me another stein,” she said. 

The bartender placed a stein in front of her, and she poured some whiskey into it and shoved it in Samson’s direction. “Here,” she said roughly. “You’ve got your fucking handout. Happy now?”

“Sure am,” he said. He picked up the stein and tapped it against hers, then took a sip. 

They sat at the bar in silence for a while sipping their drinks, and to Roman’s surprise, she could feel some of the perpetual tension leaving her shoulders. When she got to the bottom of her stein, she shot Samson a resentful look. “Seriously, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Having a drink,” he said. “What’s it look like I’m doing?”

She shot him a dirty look, then looked away at the wall. Then Samson spoke again. “You were gone a long time, Bird.”

“I know bloody well how long I was gone, all right?” she snapped.

He ignored her tone, as usual. “What happened?” he asked.

She spun toward him. “None of your fucking business!” she barked.

He held up one hand lazily. “All right, all right. Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” he said, and he sipped his drink again.

Roman fumed silently and tapped her fingers on the bar. Then she shot him another venomous glare. “We got trapped in the deep roads, all right? That’s what happened. If you have to know.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Maker’s balls. That must’ve been good.”

“It was shit,” she said bluntly. “The deep roads are shit.”

Samson nodded slowly. “Sorry to hear that. You came back with coin though, eh?”

The anger simmering in her stomach suddenly burst into boil. Before she could stop herself, the anger was pouring out of her mouth in a stream of vitriol. “Is that all you fucking care about?” she yelled. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You heard I came back to town with a bunch of fucking treasure from the deep roads, so you thought you’d come here and leech off of me like you always do?”

Samson stared at her in silence. He looked angry but also oddly calm, and only then did Roman realize she was on her feet and aggressively in his face.

Very close to his face, actually. His nose was a mere couple of inches from hers. She could smell the harsh whiskey and the even harsher lyrium on his breath, and the harsh perfume of it sent a flood of heat through her body.

“Sit down, Bird,” he said, very quietly. 

Her pounding heart thudded even more loudly in her ears. “Don’t you tell me what to do,” she snarled.

His expression didn’t change. “Roman, sit down.”

Roman. He knew her first name. He knew her first name? Nobody except Varric and the others knew her first name, and nobody called her by it. How did Samson know her name?

She stared at him for a moment. Then she sat and belligerently grabbed his drink. “Fuck you,” she said, and she finished his drink before shoving the empty stein back toward him. 

He calmly picked up the bottle of whiskey and poured himself another drink. For another long, tense minute, they sat there in silence as Roman breathed slowly and tried to get her temper — and her libido — back under control. 

Samson eventually spoke again. “What’s got you so pissed then, eh? You’re worse company than usual.”

She took another deep breath. Then, for some reason, she actually told him why she was angry. “While I was trapped in the bloody deep roads, my fucking brother went and joined the Templars.”

Samson lifted an eyebrow, then barked out a laugh. “Fallen in with my lot, has he?”

“They’re not your lot. They threw you out, remember?” Her tone sounded sarcastic to her own ears, and she was too drunk to know if she was trying to be cruel or kind by saying this to him.

He huffed and lifted the stein to his lips. “Thanks a lot, Bird.”

I guess I was being cruel, then, she thought. To her surprise, her gut churned with a twist of guilt. 

She hunched her shoulders. “Don’t fucking pout. You’re better off without them.”

“Am I?” he said archly. “You’re sure about that?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “They’re… they’re fucking prison guards. Glorified prison guards who think their lyrium addiction is a boon from the Maker. Who doesn’t exist, by the way,” she added vindictively, “but what the fuck do I know.”

Samson smirked. “Better watch your mouth, or someone’ll cut those pretty lips off for speaking ill of the Chantry.”

Pretty lips? she thought vaguely. She grabbed his stein and took another sip before plonking it on the bar once more. “They can bloody well try. They’ll lose more than just their lips if they do.”

He let out a raspy laugh that made her blood simmer. “Ah, Bird. Kirkwall’s a lot more lively now you’re back.”

She snorted in disgust, then idly picked at the red kerchief around her wrist. “Why did the Templars throw you out, anyway?”

He shot her a sideways look. “Maybe that’s none of your business.”

His tone was mocking. Roman tsked and looked away. “Fine. Don’t tell me. I don’t fucking care.”

There was a brief silence as Samson nursed his drink. When his whiskey was gone, he pushed the stein away. “There was this one mage in the Circle,” he said. “Kid named Maddox. Quiet kid, nice, like most of ‘em were. He had a piece here in the city, so I’d bring letters back and forth for them sometimes.” He poured himself another drink. “It was all going fine, you know, wasn’t hurting anyone. But that bitch Meredith disagreed. Called it ‘fraternizing between a Templar and a mage’ and threw me out of the Order, and well… here we are.” He gestured sarcastically at himself.

Roman stared at him, stunned by his tale. “Seriously?” she said. “That’s why you got thrown out? For passing love notes between a mage and some city kid?”

“That’s it, yeah,” Samson said. He shot her a suspicious look. “Why? What did you think I’d done?”

“I… I don’t know,” she said blankly. “Fucked a mage. Raided a lyrium store or something. I don’t fucking know.”

He scowled. “I don’t fuck children or prisoners, Bird. And I was a good little Templar who stuck to my lyrium rations back then. Not like now.” He let out a humourless chuckle. “Nowadays, I’m just a broken old man who’d do just about anything to get a hit of the dust.” 

That thought made her stomach lurch. The thought of Samson debasing himself for a hint of lyrium, all because the fucking Knight-Commander didn’t like him passing notes between a mage and his lover… 

And now Carver had gone to join the Templars. He’d joined that corrupt, fucked-up, power-hungry faction of Chantry assholes that Roman hated so much — that would throw Roman herself into the Circle if they ever found out about her magic. Her own younger brother joining the Templars, willingly giving himself over to get addicted to lyrium like Samson had done…

She swallowed hard, then reached into her coin pouch and grabbed a handful of coin. “Here,” she said, and she slapped it onto the bar in front of him. 

Samson’s face went slack with surprise. He hastily covered the coin — and her hand — with his own hand. “What the fuck d’you think you’re doing?” he hissed.

His palm was callused and warm. She hastily pulled her hand away from him and jerked her chin at the coin. “Take it. I don’t need it.”

He quickly swept the coin off the counter and into his hand. “You can’t go flashing around your coin in ‘ere like that,” he scolded quietly. “You want to get your throat cut on your way home?”

Roman laughed nastily. “They can try. I’ll cut them first.”

Samson lowered his voice even more. “How?” he demanded. “You going to use your filthy blood magic tricks on ‘em?”

“Shut up,” Roman hissed. “Don’t talk about that here!”

“Then don’t go swinging your coin around like you’ve got something to prove,” he retorted.

His bossy tone sparked the ever-present simmer of rage in her belly. She slowly rose to her feet and gave Samson a hard stare. “Stop telling me what to do,” she said.

He glared at her, uncowed. “Then stop acting like a stupid bitch without a brain in her head.”

She took a threatening step closer to him. “Fuck you, Samson,” she gritted.

To her surprise, he leaned toward her until his shoulder was almost brushing her chest. “Make me, Bird,” he whispered harshly.

Suddenly, it felt as though the bottom had dropped out of her stomach, leaving her dizzy and disoriented and thrumming with unfettered rage — a heated sort of rage that was reaching into her palms and pounding in her ears and pulsing between her legs. 

She stared furiously into his bloodshot yet oddly clear grey eyes. Her breaths were sharp and angry in her ears, breaths that became increasingly sharp as her lungs were filled with his warm and earthy scent. 

She shoved away from the bar and stormed toward the door, stumbling slightly as she did, then burst into the relative cool of Lowtown’s nighttime air. She started striding toward… fuck, she had no idea where she was going. All she knew was that he hated Samson. She fucking hated him, with his obnoxious little laugh and his mage sympathies and the way he always warned her to be careful with her fucking blood magic like he gave a shit what could happen if she was caught–

A hand grabbed her arm, and she instinctively spun toward her assailant and swung at them. “Don’t fucking touch me!” she yelled. 

“Shut your mouth,” Samson snapped. He grabbed her waist and shoved her toward a nearby alley. 

She struggled in his grip, surprised and turned on by how strong he was. Wait, turned on? No she wasn’t, she wasn’t turned on. She fucking hated him. “Let go of me,” she railed, and she twisted her arm. “Let me go–”

He roughly shoved her into the alley and penned her against the wall with his body. “Shut up, Bird,” he hissed, and he covered her mouth with his hand. 

His hand was hot and callused against her lips, and the thrumming heat in her blood surged to a dizzying degree. Incensed by his grip on her mouth, she bit his hand.

His face twisted in a grimace of pain, but he didn’t let her go. “Listen,” he hissed.

For a second, she stopped struggling and listened, and she immediately heard what had prompted his behaviour: the sound of three male voices in the street, discussing her. 

“She’s got enough coin to throw down on the bar like that, she’s got enough for all of us. We’ll just beat her, take it and go.”

“You got shit for brains or something? We can’t leave Hawke alive. That bitch has friends in the Viscount’s Keep. She’s friends with that Tethras asshole, and you know that he knows people in the Carta. We’ve got to kill her and get rid of the body.”

“Kill Hawke? You know she’s a mage, right?”

“Nug shit. That’s a fucking rumour.”

“Look, who cares if she’s a mage? Just means she’s even easier to beat up. Mages got weak bodies, see? And I don’t know ‘bout you, but I didn’t see no staff on her. Let’s just kill her, take her coin and be done.”

The rage surged again in Roman’s ears, and her blood hummed in the way it always did when violence was on the horizon. Let them try, she thought. Let them fucking try, I dare them. She punched Samson in the belly so he’d let her go. 

He grunted softly, but instead of releasing her, he grabbed her wrist and pinned it firmly against the wall, then stepped closer until she was squished between his body and the wall.

Roman stopped breathing. His body against hers was wiry and hard and — oh fuck, Maker’s fucking balls, there was one part of him that was particularly hard, and it was pressing into her belly, just above the waistband of her knee-length skirt.

He pressed his lips to her ear. “You’re not fighting them tonight, Bird,” he whispered harshly. “They’re too damned big, and you’re too damned drunk.”

His whisper sent a shiver down her spine. She twisted her face in his grip, desperate to retort that she wasn’t too fucking drunk and that she wasn’t going to let those assholes get away with talking shit about her, but Samson’s grip on her face was implacable. 

With some difficulty, she bit his palm again, and when that only prompted another pained grunt, she licked his palm. 

He exhaled against her ear. “Bloody Maker’s balls,” he breathed. “Give it a rest, will you?” 

His voice had a certain growl to it now, a growl that echoed his earlier taunt to ‘make me’... and suddenly she was lightheaded, her blood humming with rage and unleashed power, pounding an angry beat in her ears and her throat and between her legs where she wanted that thick hardness of his to go. 

She licked his palm again. He groaned quietly against her ear, and her eyes fluttered shut. The three thugs were still talking distantly, but Roman didn’t hear them; all she could hear was Samson breathing in her ear, and all she could think about was the ridge of his cock against her belly and the salt of his hand on her tongue… 

She twisted her hips and scratched his chest with her free hand, and Samson grunted in her ear. “You fucking wildcat,” he snarled. “Would you quit until they’re gone?”

She shook her head as much as she could and scratched his chest again, wishing that she was able to score his skin directly instead of scraping at him through his shirt. Then he suddenly bit her neck just below her ear. 

She gasped into his palm. A rush of warmth bloomed between her legs, and she realized with a jolt how wet she was. 

Samson bit her again, then bit the side of her ear. “You get what you give, Bird,” he whispered. “Now stand bloody well still.”

Never, she thought viciously. She scratched him and tried to pull her wrist from his grip and curled her hips toward his cock, and Samson just stood there with his wiry body shoved against her and his mouth panting hotly against her neck and his surprisingly strong hands holding her in place, and all the while the thugs were standing in the street discussing the best way to kill her. 

I hate them, she raged internally. I hate those assholes, and I hate this city, and I really, really fucking hate Samson. She twisted and struggled, and the eagerness pooled through her smallclothes to paint the inner margins of her thighs, and she was so distracted by how much she hated and wanted him that she didn’t notice when the thugs went away. 

When Samson suddenly released her and stepped back, she gasped in a breath and slumped back against the wall. She roughly wiped her mouth and glared viciously at him, only to find him glaring back at her.

His mouth was twisted in a sneer, and his chest was heaving with angry breaths. “What’s your bloody problem?” he demanded. “I was only trying to help you.”

“Well, don’t,” she snapped. “I can look after myself.”

“Not tonight, you couldn’t ‘ave,” he retorted.

“You don’t fucking know me,” she spat. “Don’t try to save me. You don’t — you don’t know me!”

He folded his arms. “I know you gave me a hell of a lot of coin just now for no good reason. Why’d you do that?”

For some reason, her heart twisted painfully. The coin was nothing. It was the least that he deserved. He’d been thrown out on his own to cope with his lyrium addiction just for passing love letters, and the more she thought about it, the more it made her chest hurt. 

And the more her chest hurt, the more angry she felt. 

“I hate you,” she spat.

His lips melted into a sly smirk, even though the anger remained in the crease of his eyebrows. “That’s not what that skinny little body of yours is saying.”

Her skinny little body pulsed hotly in response to his knowing smirk, and this only made her angrier still. “Fuck you,” she hissed. “Fuck you and fuck off, and – just – fuck you.” 

He raised his eyebrows and took a small step closer to her, and her body thrilled at his nearness. Then he took another tempting step closer. “Try again, Bird,” he drawled. 

She belligerently lifted her chin. “Fuck. You,” she said, very deliberately. 

His smile widened, and he chuckled. Then he planted one hand on the wall beside her head and slid his other hand up the inside of her thigh. 

Her lips fell open on a shocked inhale. Then his fingers were lightly petting her through her smalls, and Roman couldn’t help herself: she rocked her hips helplessly toward his hand, suddenly and terribly desperate for the heat of his hand directly against her skin. 

He leaned in close and brushed his lips over her ear. “This doesn’t feel like you hate me, Bird.” 

“Yes I do,” she gasped. “I hate you, I fucking – oh fuck!” She broke off with a moan; his fingers were pulling the crotch of her smallclothes to the side, and when he pressed his finger directly into her pussy, the pleasure was so acute that it forced her eyes shut. 

She leaned her head back against the wall and thrust her hips toward his hand, and Samson grunted against her ear. “You’re a nasty wildcat, you know that?” he whispered. “Trying to fight me off when this is what you were really gagging for.”

She shook her head in a stupid pointless denial, and Samson bit her neck, sending another bone-melting thrill between her legs. “No?” he murmured. “You don’t want this? I should stop then, shouldn’t I?” He started pulling his hand out of her skirt.

Roman grabbed his hand. “No,” she blurted. “Don’t you dare stop, you asshole.” 

He smiled and didn’t move his hand. “Or what? What will the rich and fancy Lady Hawke do if I don’t finish ‘er off?”

“I’ll… I’ll bite your fucking finger off,” she threatened. It was a childish threat and Roman knew it, and unfortunately Samson did too; his smile widened into something wicked and slightly vindictive, and he pulled his hand out of her skirt entirely.

Riled and enraged and horribly, desperately incomplete, Roman mewled – actually made a needy sound like a cat in heat. Samson exhaled heavily, then tipped her chin up with the hand that had been in her skirt. “Say it then,” he told her. “Say it, and I’ll do what you want.”

She breathed shallowly and glared at him. His fingers carried her scent — the scent of how much she needed him, whether she wanted to admit it or not, and she really did not want to admit it.

She ignored the throbbing pulse of her clit and sneered at him. “Fuck you.”

He shook his head. “Try again, pretty Bird.”

She curled her lip. She was no one’s pretty bird, especially not his. “Fuck you,” she snarled. 

He stepped very close to her and pressed his hips into her belly. “Try again,” he whispered. 

Maker’s balls, his cock against her belly, the scent of her own desperation on his hand, the sly smile on his sallow face… 

At long last, Roman finally gave in. “Fuck me,” she blurted. 

His face lit up, then twisted into an obnoxiously satisfied smile. “All right then,” he said. A second later, his hand was inside of her skirt and he was pulling her smallclothes down and fuck, fuck, he was kneeling at her feet to drag her smalls down to her ankles. Then he was shoving up her skirt and oh fuck, oh Maker’s balls, he was pushing her legs apart and she hadn’t expected this–

Samson ran his tongue between her legs, and a shiver of pleasure made her entire body twitch. She slammed her head back against the wall and gasped. Then he was stroking her clit with long laps of his tongue, and Roman couldn’t breathe. 

She couldn’t breathe. In this dim and dank alley, she could barely even see, but none of that mattered. All she could do was feel: feel the wet heat of his tongue sliding into her folds and piercing through the lust-slicked flesh to lave her swollen bud. All she cared about was the feeling that his tongue was lifting between her legs, this unbelievable hum of pleasure the likes of which she hadn’t felt in months, too many months — too many months during which she’d thought about Samson and his hideous raspy laugh and his awful smirking mouth, and how much she absolutely, completely, utterly hated him…

He gently tugged her clit between his lips, and her climax struck so suddenly that it took her by surprise. Her knees buckled and her fingers scrabbled against the wall for purchase, and when Samson’s hand snapped up to grip her hip, she convulsively grabbed his hand and stared unseeingly at the opposite wall, her mind rendered to unthinking slag by the waves of pleasure that were crashing through her body.

Supported by his hand on her hip, she shuddered and tried to drag in a breath through the rapture, but the pleasure was striking all the way up to her throat, and she couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t until the pulsing of pleasure began to wane that she was able to pull in a lungful of air. 

She held her breath for a second, then released it in a moan. “You’re an asshole,” she breathed. “Now fuck me already.” 

He scoffed and rose to his feet. “Is that how you thank the man who made you come so hard you almost fell down?”

His base words struck a fresh bolt of desire in her blood. “I did not. And it wasn’t that good,” she lied. 

“That hurts, Bird,” he said dryly. “You can be a real bitch sometimes.”

“Well, you can be a real fucking dick,” she retorted. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his pants and pulled him closer, then started roughly unbuckling his belt.

He laughed, and there was something about the quality of his laugh that made something squeeze deep inside her core. “Guess we’re a good match, then,” he said.

“Shut up,” she snapped. She ripped open his trousers and pulled out his cock, then stroked it firmly with her fist. 

He grunted and thrust into her hand. Satisfied, Roman released him and started to turn around so he could fuck her from behind, but he grabbed her arm and shoved her back against the wall once more. 

“What the fu–” She broke off with a gasp; his hand was at her throat and pressing her back into the wall.

He shoved her skirt up with his other hand and stepped closer. “Lift your leg, Bird,” he gritted. “Get up on your toes.” 

His growling commands, his hand at her throat, the tantalizing brush of his cock against her belly: it was too tempting, too overwhelmingly good, and she eagerly lifted her left leg. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” she panted.

He released her throat and hooked his arm beneath her left knee to spread her wide, then firmly gripped her waist. “If you don’t like it, maybe you shouldn’t listen so well, Bird,” he grunted. He bent his knees slightly, then thrust up into her in a swift hard stroke.

Stars burst behind her eyes, and a guttural cry burst from her throat. Samson groaned, then pressed his forehead to hers and pumped his hips, driving his cock deep inside of her at a nearly-vertical angle that was making her deepest inner muscles quake. 

Roman gasped and whimpered, distantly aware that she shouldn’t be making this much noise but unable to stop the sounds from leaving her throat as Samson fucked her hard and deep. The angle of his cock, the rhythm of it and the familiar lyrium tang of his breath and the manly musk of his body: all of it was conspiring to bring her toward another climax that threatened to be even stronger and more mind-melting than the first. 

Samson thrust into her. “Come on, Bird,” he grunted. “Come for me so I can bend you over and fuck you from behind.”

Yes, she thought deliriously. The thought of him pushing her face-first against the wall and taking her from behind was so good, so fucking hot, it was what she wanted, just as much as she wanted his hard thick cock driving into her right now to bring her higher, just a little higher, oh fucking fuck yes–

Her climax exploded from her core through her whole body, from her throat all the way down to her toes. She cried out as she came, and Samson sealed his lips over hers in a kiss. 

She jolted, shocked by his kiss and even more shocked when he delved his tongue smoothly into her mouth, but the shock wasn’t enough to stop the orgasm from ratcheting through her blood. She permitted his kiss, permitted the slide of his lips and the rasp of his stubble across her chin, and when her orgasm began to ebb, she bit his tongue.

He gasped in pain and stumbled back, pulling his cock free from her body in the process. He lifted a hand to his mouth, then spat a blood-tinged gobbet on the ground and glared at her. “What the fuck, Bird?” he demanded.

“Don’t kiss me,” she snapped. 

His face twisted with frustration. “What is your problem? What do you want from me?”

He sounded genuinely frustrated, and for a second, Roman’s gut twisted. Because that was the question, wasn’t it? What did she want from him? 

Fuck this, she thought, and she ruthlessly shoved the troubling thought aside. “I want you to fuck me hard from behind like you said,” she told him. She raised her eyebrows in challenge. “Or was that all talk?”

His face twisted with anger. “Fine,” he said. “Fine. That’s what you want, is it? Fine.” He stepped forward and grabbed her hips, then roughly turned her around and pushed her against the wall. 

She gasped with excitement and flattened her palms on the cool bricks. Then Samson was pulling her hips back to bend her slightly at the waist, and Roman eagerly arched her spine to take him. 

“Fine,” he grunted, and he slammed himself deep inside of her. “You want me to just fuck you hard like nothing matters, then that’s what you get.” 

“Yes,” she gasped. Maker’s balls, yes, that was exactly what she wanted. 

He slammed into her again. “You want me to shove myself inside of you and just — just come inside of you like there’s nothing else in the bloody world that matters,” he panted. “Is that it?”

“Yes!” she yelped. 

He drove into her again and again. “You want me to pound you into this wall and fill you up with my come so you can feel something good, eh?”

“Fucking fuck, yes!” she cried.

“Good,” Samson grunted. “That’s good, Bird. Because that’s what I want, too.” He placed one hand between her shoulder blades and pulled her hips back, then slammed into her in a furious rhythm.

Roman closed her eyes and gasped raggedly for breath. He was fucking her so hard now that his hips were meeting her ass with the rough smack of skin-on-skin. In the space of a few short minutes, his thrusting cock was filling her up so thoroughly that Roman was almost mindless with bliss, as though she’d been hypnotized by the careful rhythmic slam of his cock inside her body. 

He gasped and dug his fingers into her hips, then shuddered and burst inside of her, and Roman let out a long relaxed sigh. When his body stilled, his grip on her hips loosened, and he slowly pulled out of her. A second later, she felt the distinct warmth of his seed escaping her still-tingling pussy and trailing hotly down the inside of her leg. 

Slowly and leisurely, she straightened up and turned around, then leaned back against the wall in total exhaustion. Without looking at Samson, she untied the crimson kerchief around her wrist. She usually carried a kerchief to staunch and clean the wounds she got from doing blood magic, but that wasn’t what she’d be using it for tonight. 

She reached between her legs and began mopping herself up, and only then did she look at Samson. His cock was tucked away and his trousers back in place, and he was frowning at her.

She scowled and dropped her gaze to her mopping hand. “What?” 

“You all right, Bird?” he asked.

His tone was gentle — unnervingly gentle. “I’m fine,” she said curtly. She finished wiping the insides of her thighs, then pulled her smallclothes up. She adjusted her skirt and stepped toward the mouth of the alley, but Samson took hold of her arm.

She pulled her arm away. “Don’t,” she snapped. 

He released her and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Was this a one-time thing or what?” he asked.

Her belly flipped. Did he want it to be more than a one-time thing? Did she want it to become more than a one-time thing? Her body was still tingling from the delicious friction of his cock and her body felt looser than it had in… fuck, probably since she’d moved here. Maybe longer, even. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this relaxed.

But even as she realized this, her shoulders started to tense again. This had been a good fuck, but she didn’t want it to become a regular thing. If it became a regular thing, Samson would think that she liked him, and she couldn’t let him think that. 

She sneered at him, then shoved her soiled kerchief into his hand. “If I get a rash from you, I’ll come for you and cut your cock off.” She started to push past him, but he stepped in front of her. 

She wilted. “What the fuck do you want?” she demanded. 

“This wasn’t for the coin, was it?” he said. 

She stared at him. “What?” she said dumbly. What coin was he talking about? 

Then she remembered — the coin she’d given him at the Hanged Man. She’d almost forgotten about that. “No,” she blurted. “For fuck’s sake, no. What kind of asshole do you take me for?” 

His face cleared slightly, but he was still frowning. “Why me, then?” 

She stared at him speechlessly for a second; the genuine bemusement in his question made something in her chest ache. Samson had described himself as broken, a broken man who was just living out his remaining shame-filled years in a haze of low-grade lyrium and resentment. But that wasn’t what Roman saw. 

She saw someone who’d been punished too many times for his good intentions. Someone who was jaded as hell, but still somehow surviving. Someone who wanted to help others, but had been stepped on too many times for the benefits to outweigh the costs. When Roman looked at Samson, she didn’t see a broken man. She saw a man who’d been kicked down more times than he deserved, but was still surviving with all the strength that his sarcasm and his wits could give him, and… damn it, she didn’t want to like him, but she did. 

And the sheer fact that she liked him —  that she had such a huge fucking vulnerability — was enough to make her hate him.

She shoved him aside. “Fuck off, Samson,” she said. And without looking back, she stormed out of the alley and back into the dark streets of Lowtown.

[evesbeve]

Hey, hey, hey eve 👀 hey, eve 👀 what if 👀 you wrote 👀 some Ben and Klaus angst 👀 haha 👀 Jk if you don't want to you don't have to ily

hey hey hey,,, what if i did  👀

I’d started this before I received this ask, but now is the perfect chance to post it, I think! Hope you enjoy!!

(special thanks to @totallyevan for giving me the constructive critisism i asked for uwu)

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Title: people are strange (when you’re a stranger)

Summary: In which Klaus gets into a fight with literally everyone, but it all works out in the end.

(Read on AO3)

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Klaus never liked family meetings.

Even after their topic had switched from 'How the hell do we stop the apocalypse?' to 'What the hell do we do now that there is no apocalypse?', they somehow still managed to be the most intense part of the week. Indecisiveness that led to arguments, arguments that led to fights… It really shouldn't have surprised Klaus that Luther and Diego weren't the only ones capable of snapping.

When Ben had walked out without a word during their discussion about a family vacation—they were thinking of either staying at the seaside or renting a cabin in the woods, but it didn't really matter; Klaus just wanted to get away from the Academy for a few days—the room fell into silence, everyone exchanging worried looks. Well. Everyone except Klaus.

"What just happened?" Allison asked and Klaus glanced around the room. Clearly the rest of his siblings shared the same question.

"Yeah, he does that sometimes," Klaus said, still lying on the couch and playing with the ends of his hair. It was getting long again. He'd need a haircut soon.

"… Are you sure?" Diego said. "Because Ben doesn't… It's not like him to…?"

Ah. Of course. Klaus should have known that's what it was about.

While Klaus had been oh-so fortunate to spend the past decade haunted by Number Six, his siblings had learned to live in his absence. It wasn't as if they had spent enough quality time together after reverting the apocalypse either; Klaus was still working on keeping him manifested for long periods of time, especially from a long distance. His family didn't know Ben. Not really. Not anymore. All they had left of him was a memory, a facade he'd long left behind.

Maybe it wasn't like teenage-Ben to walk out on a conversation like this, but dead-Ben? The Ben that Klaus knew? Not only did he walk away on a relatively regular basis when he was upset, but also lashed out, letting Klaus know exactly what it was he was mad about.

Klaus sighed, not quite meeting anyone's gaze. "People change, Diego dear," he said. "Dead people, especially."

For a second, he really thought that was it. That they'd drop it and continue making vacation plans just like they were supposed to do, but Klaus could practically feel another round of glances being exchanged.

"But there has to be a reason, right?" Vanya asked.

Klaus shrugged. Did his siblings honestly think that just because he could see the dead, he knew what it was like to be one of them? That night at the rave had been long ago, but he was sure he'd remember if God waved a document with the words 'Congratulations! You Died! Read the Terms and Conditions on your Behavioral Changes below,' in front of his face.

"Couldn't it be, I don't know, trauma?" Klaus offered, knowing fully well that Ben would have glared at him if he was there.

"A reason as to why he walked out, Klaus," Luther said. A hint of disappointment—that he was desperately trying to suppress—was very much visible in Number One's tone. "Of course he... Of course he has changed. But, uh… there has to be something more to it, right?"

Klaus, now sitting up, clapped his hands on his knees. "I seem to have lost you, brother mine."

"What Luther is trying to say," Five said, not doing a great job at hiding his annoyance either, "is that it's highly doubtful that walking out was Ben's way of showing he's pleased."

Klaus snorted. "Well, that's certainly how you'd show it." He knew he was pushing it—Five's glare told him more than enough—but he didn't really care. He stood up, walking around the couch as he spoke, in the most theatrical voice he could muster. "Maybe he's simply overjoyed, you know? Overjoyed about… sunbathing." He came to a halt, clapping his hands again. "Yeah, sunbathing! In some golden beach in Australia or Greece or wherever we're going—"

"Klaus," Diego said, a warning tone in his voice.

Klaus found himself huffing dismissively without even meaning to. "God, you're just like Ben," he muttered under his breath, and since when was he comparing the way he was treated by the rest of his family to the way Ben was treating him? He managed another glance around the living room, only to see that everyone was staring at him. Great. "What? What did I do now?"

Allison and Diego both scoffed and looked away, Luther shook his head in defeat, and Five and Vanya stayed exactly as they were; staring at him.

"Just… Will you check on him?"

Klaus tried not to be mad at Vanya for asking, but he couldn't help it. Of course they wanted him to go after Ben. Of course that's what this was about.

On days where he just couldn't get his powers to work, Klaus had been more than welcome to pass on messages from Ben to the others, to stand to the side and help them communicate. It'd been sweet, really, and kinda fun, to see his family act like an actual family.

But now Ben was corporeal. Or, well, had been, a few minutes ago, until he walked outside, far from Klaus' range. There was no reason for Klaus to intervene, and yet he was being asked to do just that, once again.

That's all he was to them. Ben's messenger.

"Klaus."

Five's voice snapped him back into reality, but Klaus wasn't so sure he was grateful for it. Instead, he nodded, a not-so-friendly grin decorating his face. "You know what?" He nodded more intensely this time. "Sure. I'll go check on Ben for you."

He almost didn't recognize the poison in his voice. He'd really made an effort in playing the good sibling role, and according to Ben—ha!—that meant no offensive comments, no passive aggressiveness, no ignoring everyone…

"Klaus, come on," Luther said. "You know that's not what we meant."

"'We' meant?" Klaus said, letting himself chuckle. "Oh, so you've had time to think about it. What you'd tell me to do if Ben got tired of you all."

"Klaus—"

"I'm not your fucking courier!" he yelled.

"Of course you're not," Allison said, taking a step closer to him. "We never said that you were."

"You thought of it," Klaus said, shaking his head. "Because that's all I'm useful for, isn't it? Talking to Ben?"

For a moment, the only sound in the mansion was Vanya's leg rubbing against the fabric of the couch opposite to Klaus as she bounced it.

"Klaus," Luther said, seemingly taken aback by his outburst. He exchanged a quick look with Diego, then Allison. "Are you…?"

Klaus should have known where this was going.

"Because you can talk to us, if you are."

He really should have known.

Klaus couldn't help the deep row of giggles that escaped him. A bitter laugh. He hated it, but he couldn't stop it. He didn't want to. "If I'm what?" he said. "High? Using? On drugs? What's it gonna be, Luther?"

"I didn't—"

"We both know what you meant," Klaus interrupted. "I honestly don't know why I'm even surprised."

"Klaus, come on—"

"I'll talk to Ben for you," he said bitterly, reaching for the door that led to the courtyard. He was about to exit, but then he turned around again, to take one final look of his family. "Then maybe he can talk to you about my drug habits."

Without another word, he stormed out.

He wanted to hate them for what had just happened, but he couldn't. He was certainly angry though. Furious. He was so angry that his face was burning and his chest hurt and he wanted to scream, but didn't want to be heard. Not like this, anyway.

But hey. There was one more person in this family left to disappoint.

Ben was standing in the middle of the courtyard. His back was turned on Klaus, but it didn't take much thinking to know what he was looking at. Ben's statue lay proudly on its side, a few meters away from its empty pedestal, and just a bit further was its head. It'd been weeks, but no one had bothered to clean up after the incident at the funeral. Klaus hated to admit it, but he understood why. It wasn't a very pleasant sight.

For a second, Klaus hesitated. If he were honest with himself, Ben was exactly who he needed. Ben knew him. He'd never wrongly accuse Klaus of taking drugs, of not trying enough. Sure, he could be a pushover, but so could Klaus.

And then he remembered the way Diego had scolded him, in the exact same tone as Ben did, and the doubts started to roll in.

Ben had been in a mood for days, and Klaus hated it when Ben was in a mood. He got cranky and quiet and shot him judgy looks, and it was the worst. The last thing Klaus wanted was another argument. Especially not one that would remind him of what had just happened inside.

For a second, Klaus felt the anger from before rising in him again. It was so unfair. The others were probably back to acting as if nothing had happened, and Klaus was boiling with anger. Was this how Ben had felt when Klaus made promise after promise to stop taking drugs, and then invited himself into the first bar on the street?

Maybe that was how Ben was feeling right now. Klaus just didn't know why. He supposed he would find out soon enough.

Ben had seemingly not noticed he was there and—no. Ben always knew when Klaus was there. He was simply ignoring him.

Klaus knew he shouldn't have been angry at him for it, but he'd already dealt with enough bullshit today.

"So, do you also wanna murder me in my sleep?" he asked, only to be met with the silent treatment again. Fuck you, Klaus wanted to say, but didn't. Couldn't. It wasn't Ben's fault the others had yelled at him, although Klaus would have really appreciated the backup.

Perhaps cheering him up would do the trick.

"At least your statue is decapitated now," Klaus said. He immediately regretted it once he saw Ben's body freeze.

"What?" Ben said, without turning around to look at him.

"Oh, you know," Klaus said, trying to play it off cool. "Our dear brothers' big fight has happened in this timeline, so your honor has finally lost his head." Klaus pointed at the forgotten piece of metal on the ground. "You did always say you hate it."

Ben didn't reply.

"Still, wonder why they haven't cleaned up after their mess." He should have shut up there and then. "When I screw up, it's always like 'Klaus, why did you make such a mess in my closet!' and 'Klaus, jump in the trashcan to find daddy dearest's diary!'" Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up. "You'd think they'd have told Luther and Diego to clean up by now—"

"You think this is funny?"

Klaus swallowed. He shut up a little bit too late.

"Um… No. But you have to admit, you did always hate the damn thing—"

"Because I died," Ben said.

"Because it doesn't look like you," Klaus corrected. He and Ben had spent so many nights making fun of the so-called sculpture in the yard. It'd been about the only positive thing that came out of Ben's funeral.

"Because I died," Ben repeated.

Klaus scoffed, and suddenly, he didn't care as to why Ben was acting weird. He knew perfectly well how much Klaus hated it when he threw the dead card around.

Klaus wasn't going to stand there and take it anymore. Not when, after everything they'd been through, he had the same card to pull.

"I died too," Klaus said, anger finding its way back inside his body. "Remember that? Luther, the rave? I even met God and everything, so really, I don't see why you gotta keep—"

"It's not the same!" 

Ben yelled. He yelled, and Ben never yelled, even if he was furious, which meant there was more to it, and Klaus—

Klaus was an idiot. He was a fucking idiot.

Ben wasn't angry. He wasn't moody. He was sad. Desperate. Scared.

And Klaus knew more than well what that felt like.

"You're right." Klaus took a step forward, rubbing his hands together and trying to speak as calmly as possible. "You're right, it's not, I'm sorry, I just—You gotta help me here, Ben. Because I can't help you if I don't know what's going on, and I don't."

Klaus prepared himself for Ben's next outburst, but it never came. Instead came a sigh, and to his surprise, Ben finally turned around to face him.

His hands were buried in his pockets, as if he couldn't reach deep enough. His hood shadowed over his expression, and really, Klaus should have realised there was something very wrong just by that alone. Ben never wore his hood that high up unless there was something really bothering him. Still, Klaus could see the glimmer in Ben's eyes clearly, telling him he was close to crying, if he hadn't already.

"I'm sorry," Ben said, leaning against the empty base of his statue.

"You don't have to—"

"No," Ben interrupted. "I do. I'm sorry for yelling and for…" He pinched the crook of his nose. "For acting such an asshole before. And leaving you alone. I'm sorry."

Klaus tried to think of a way to fill the silence. He swallowed, then took the final few steps that separated him and Ben, and leaned next to him against the base of the statue. "It's okay," he said, then bit his lip. "Do you… want to talk about it?"

Ben huffed. Almost a laugh. That was good.

"God, no," he said, crossing one leg on top of the other. Klaus hadn't even realised he'd been looking down at their legs. "It's just… I don't know. It doesn't really feel like it's over, I guess."

"Tell me about it," Klaus mumbled, and only realised he'd unconsciously reached for the dog tags around his neck after he made contact with the cool metal.

There was silence again. Not quite comfortable, but not awkward either. It was the same silence that thinly hovered between them during the nights that the ghosts got too much to handle. When Klaus couldn't take it anymore, swallowed two pills, and mouthed a quiet apology to Ben who couldn't do anything about it. When something was wrong, but there was no way out of it.

"And—" Ben suddenly stood up, but interrupted himself before he could get a cohesive sentence out of his mouth. The sudden movement made Klaus jump slightly, and his eyes flickered up to meet Ben's. He didn't know what to say, but he hoped his silence would encourage him to continue.

Hoped. Because he didn't actually know what Ben would do. Since when was Klaus uncertain of what his brother, who spent every single day of the last decade by his side, would do? They acted a lot like strangers these days. He didn't like it.

"And," Ben tried again, "I'm still getting used to—Well, not used to, that's not the right expression, but… you know, how you were gone, how you—"

"Ben," Klaus said. It was becoming painful to see him struggle. "I came back. I'm… I'm alive. I'm okay. As you said, it's really not the same—"

"No, not that," Ben said, and Klaus tilted his head as to show him he had no idea what he was talking about. Ben sighed, relaxing his shoulders, and leaning back again. "You're… grieving," he said, and pointed to Klaus' chest with his eyes.

The dog tags.

Oh.

Oh.

Klaus tightened his grip around them. He looked down too, for just a second, because he couldn't quite bring himself to face the only thing he had left of the man he loved yet. He tried to focus on something else; the newly planted tulips in front of them would do for a bit.

"Klaus, ever since I died, you've… I've been with you. And suddenly, it's not the same for you, and I'm not saying it's your fault, but—I just." Klaus noticed Ben burying his hands back in his pockets with the corner of his eye. "In and out of a bus. That's all it took for you to… change."

Klaus nodded. He tried to speak, but his throat was suddenly too dry to even attempt it.

"Because you've changed, Klaus, and I—" Ben sighed again, tilting his head back. Klaus wasn't trying to look away anymore. "And then you got sober, and suddenly your biggest issue is where we'll go for fucking vacation—You got sober for him. And I'm happy you did, because God knows how much you deserve this, but I don't understand."

Once more, it was like all the puzzle pieces clicked together.

Ben had spent every last second of the past thirteen years looking after Klaus, trying to get him to sober up. And Klaus had never listened to him. Not in the long run, at least, but he wasn't going to pretend as if his visits to rehab were him making an effort.

He'd made an effort for Dave.

And Ben who knew him better than anyone, Ben who was his best friend and his family, he didn't know who Dave was, not really. There was an entire year of Klaus' life that he couldn't wrap his head around, because he hadn't been there, like every other second.

And Klaus didn't know what to say to that.

He felt so stupid for not noticing before, how bothered Ben was by it; not knowing.

Klaus barely talked about Dave. About Vietnam. About the world behind the briefcase. He couldn't even think about it all without breaking into tears, so putting everything into words was…

Klaus didn't know how to do this.

In the end, he settled for, "You look like shit."

And Ben laughed.

It wasn't a long laugh nor a happy one. But it was laughter, and Klaus hadn't heard it in a long time, so he couldn't help but laugh too.

"Thank you," Ben said, eventually, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "That was exactly what I wanted to hear."

And they laughed again. It lasted much longer this time, to the point Klaus' ribs actually started hurting. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed this; laughing things away they definitely shouldn't. Taking a few minutes to ignore everything else in the world, until it was just the two of them. Ben and Klaus. Broken beyond repair.

They'd need to work on that last one.

They'd ended up sitting on the ground, backs pressed against the cold base of Ben's statue. The silence was around them now—not between them, like before. They were both grinning from ear to ear, as if there was a mutual understanding that Klaus didn't quite… understand, but he felt it, and that was more than enough.

He felt much more confident now.

"I would have done it, you know," he said, and Ben shot him a confused look. "Stayed sober for you, I mean."

Ben shook his head, but not the smile off his face. "Yeah, I've heard that one before."

Klaus wasn't having it.

"No, listen to me," he said, turning slightly to his right so he could be face to face with Ben. "I would have done it, but I didn't need to." Ben huffed, and Klaus felt his heart pound faster in his chest. Why were words so hard, and why were they needed for him to get his point across?

Except they weren't. Words weren't needed.

Klaus took a deep breath, bringing his fists together. Within seconds, a glow surrounded his hands and Ben, before disappearing again as Klaus exhaled. He gave Ben a knowing look, and once his brother nodded in return, he reached out and held his hand between his.

"I didn't need to get sober," Klaus repeated, stroking Ben's hand gently, and scooting close to him so their knees were touching. "Because I could always see you."

Klaus could practically hear Ben thinking, and when it finally clicked, he let go of a silent gasp.

"But you couldn't see Dave."

Klaus nodded. Ben bit his lip, releasing his hand from Klaus' grip and taking both of Klaus' hands into his. Klaus couldn't help but squeeze them, a reminder that Ben really was there. Ben squeezed back.

"You two would have gotten along great," Klaus said.

Ben raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"

Klaus smiled and nodded. "Well, both of you are keen on mothering me, so—ow!" Klaus yelped as Ben pulled on his hands a little bit too hard to tease him. "Are you trying to pull my arms off?"

Ben shrugged. "Thought my decapitated head could use some company."

A snort escaped Klaus. "Always so thoughtful."

"Aren't I?" Ben said, and then it was Klaus turn to pull. "Hey—ouch—Klaus!" he yelped through a laugh and released his hands to stretch. "This really hurts on the shoulders."

"Now you know what pain feels like, Mr Ghost," Klaus said. "And as a matter of fact, Dave's the one that said you two would get along for taking care of me."

"So you admit it at last—" Ben paused, and his expression changed. "Dave knows about me?"

Although Klaus couldn't see himself, he imagined his expression was similar to Ben's. Staring in disbelief, or something along these lines. He wasn't used to seeing Ben so confused, so vulnerable.

"Of course he knows about you," Klaus said, clearing his throat. "I mean, he asked about my family, so… Who else was I supposed to talk about, Diego?"

Ben shrugged. "Well, did you?"

"Yeah, a bit," Klaus said, and when Ben slapped his knee in return, Klaus let him. "I wish you could have met him."

He didn't know what he was expecting. He'd already said too much about Dave than he possibly could in a day, and Ben had probably heard too much than he wanted to anyway. When he felt the hand on his knee squeeze against it, he couldn't help but look up to look into Ben's reassuring eyes.

"I will."

It was a promise. Ben didn't need to clarify it. And it was a promise that Klaus wanted to come true more than any other one.

Klaus held his breath and nodded, suddenly much too aware of the tension he'd been suppressing in his body ever since the start of the conversation, ever since his fight with the others, ever since too-long-ago. He bit his lip, finally letting his tears roll down his cheeks, and if Ben did the same, he didn't know, because he was being pulled into a much-needed embrace.

Klaus didn't know how long they spent there, on the dirty ground, nor did he care. All he knew was that for the first time in years, he truly felt as if things were turning out for the better.

___

I'm planning on writing at least two more fics for this series (you can subscribe to it on AO3 if you wanna be notified), one from Ben's POV, and one from the other siblings' POVs. (But knowing me, I could end up writing a fic per sibling... time will tell.) Anyway, keep an eye out!

If you enjoyed this, please consider commissioning me or supporting me on Ko-fi. Thank you so much for reading!

[ancientwastedlores]

The Support System (Ch:2)

SUMMARY: The Avengers have managed to collect all the infinity stones across the universe, and are currently keeping them in far corners of the world, only for research and to see if they can improve the planet and its people. Reader is a researcher with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, as well as a field agent. Loki is currently serving time for his actions in New York City in 2012.

A/N: Thank you for the love on the first chapter! You can find the same on AO3, if you prefer that. Let me know if you like this and I’ll keep posting more :) Also, should I start a tag list for this? I’m still navigating this platform, and I see many fic writers having a tag list for their fics. Anyway, enjoy! 

Chapter: 2/?

Warnings: N/A

Audience: general.

_______________________________________________________________________

Tony likes to hand out the agendas of the day to the Avengers personally. He jogs around the tower with a stack of papers, wearing his tracksuit and headphones, a habit Pepper encouraged, since he never actually leaves his lab to do anything physical.

He gently opens the door and places the sheet on a table placed right next to the door. That table is specifically for the agendas. You once threw your keys on it and Tony passive aggressively made a point of picking up your keys and placing them on the floor to place his sheet.

You’re still in bed with Loki, who is facing away from you and snoring lightly. Tony opens the door to place the sheet and notices two heads instead of one in your bed. He moves closer to see Loki, widens his eyes, and promptly runs out.

‘What?’ Nat asks, running past Tony, then stopping. ‘Loki!’ ‘In her room!?’ ‘Yes!’ ‘I…’ Nat is trying to peer in through the crack Tony left open. ‘Are you sure!?’ ‘Do YOU want to look?’ ‘No!’ Nat nearly shouts.

Tony shuts the door. ‘I’ll talk to her about it later’.

‘Good, I’m not going to’ Nat says, then places her headphones back and continues running.

xx

Around 8 AM, after Loki has left your room, you change into your field uniform and walk to the kitchen. The rest of the Avengers, including Loki, are in there, and the cook is making bacon and eggs.

‘Hi Samantha’ you greet the cook. She smiles back at you. You pour yourself a cup of coffee and Tony grabs your arm, making you nearly spill the coffee.

‘Hey man!’ you yell. ‘Please tell me you aren’t sleeping with Loki’ Tony hisses. ‘What… no! I’m not, let go of my arm!’ Tony lets go. ‘I saw him in your bed’. ‘Yeah, we just had a heart to heart about our past and fell asleep, it’s no big deal’. He narrows his eyes at you. ‘You confided in Loki about your past?’ ‘Well, him more than me’. ‘Uhuh’.

You raise an eyebrow at Tony. ‘It’s fine’ you assure him. He doesn’t believe you, which is clear in his face, but walks back to the dining table.

You grab a plate for yourself and get some fruit, eggs and bread. You take your seat at the table and join in on the conversation everyone’s having.

xx

‘Right’ you announce, walking into the lab with Bruce and Tony. ‘TODAY is the day we speak to Harry’. ‘Harry?’ Tony asks. ‘Yeah. The Reality Gem’. ‘You named the Reality Gem “Harry”?’ Bruce asks. ‘Yes. You know, the redheaded prince of England. And the Reality gem is Red’ you grin, proud of your name. They roll their eyes but laugh, and go to their respective workstations.

Doctor Strange had found a way to speak to the Time Stone, and provided everything he could for you to be able to do the same with the Reality stone. He had done everything save for actually coming down the lab, which he couldn’t because he had to be at the Sanctum Sanctorum. But you had gone through every single paper he sent, every theory you talked over, and every idea you shared. After a while, it was clear that the code to cracking all the stones wasn’t the same, and so you’d have to start from scratch for every stone.

Frustrating as it was, you did love a challenge.

‘Maybe we should just build a body around it like we did for Vision and let it literally speak to us’ you say, frustrated, a few hours later. 

‘We did consider that. We even have the technology for it, but we can’t have six people walking around with stones in their heads’ Tony says.

‘Oh, is THAT the problem?’ you chuckle. ‘Not the insane amount of power and resources it would take, not to mention how the costs outweigh the benefits’.

‘She’s right, it took Thor to open the cradle last time’. Bruce says. ‘And if we give the stones a body, it could do anything’.

‘At least the stones restrict movement’ you say.

‘I don’t think the lack of a body would stop the stones’ Tony says. ‘Besides. Strange got his to talk while it still sits in that necklace, so I’m sure we can work it out. Did you read through the papers he sent?’

‘I did’ you say. ‘Twice over, made some notes if you’d like to see’ you project the contents of your laptop onto a hologram before Tony. ‘We’ve tried it the few ways Strange suggested, but what he actually did is very particular to the Time Stone’.

‘Series of time loops and manipulations in the mirror dimension’ Tony reads. ‘We can’t do that, of course, we don’t even know how to use it’.

‘Can’t we take the reality stone into the mirror dimension?’ Bruce asks.

‘What then?’ you ask. ‘It was purely an accident that Stephen even managed to speak to the stone. He managed to reverse and study his actions somehow to write a paper’.

‘So we’re stuck in the lab, then’ Tony sighs, and turns to walk to his table.

‘Unless you just want to take it to the mirror dimension and just mess around with it’ you say, half-joking.

Tony stops in his tracks. He promptly turns back to face you. You see the look on his face and push the hologram aside. ‘Tony, you know I love a mystery, but I wouldn’t advice getting stuck in the mirror dimension with an Infinity Stone unless you REALLY know what you’re doing’.

‘Strange did it’ he scoffs. ‘Strange knows what he’s doing’ you say. ‘Are you saying Strange is smarter than I am!?’ Tony demands.

Oh dear.

‘I’m saying he knows more about this’ you walk back to your computer and pull up another paper he sent you and project it to a hologram. ‘Read that’ you highlight a line using your fingers. ‘The mirror dimension is linked to the dark dimension, playing around with an Infinity Stone without understanding how to use it could not only trap you in the mirror dimension, it could draw you into the dark dimension’ you swipe the hologram away. ‘And I hate to bring this up, but after New York, this should be the last thing you throw yourself into’.

Tony sighs. ‘You’re right, kid’.

You close the holograms and walk back to your desk. Tony’s still standing in the same spot though. You sit down and pull yourself close to the desk.

‘You’re smart’ Tony declares.

You smile at him.

‘So I can’t understand why the hell you’d spend the night with Loki’. ‘You did what?’ Bruce shouted. You glare at Tony. ‘THANKS’. ‘YOU SLEPT WITH LOKI!?’ Bruce’s voice is unnaturally high pitched. ‘I did no such thing, we were talking and fell asleep!’ you defend yourself. ‘Can we get back to the stones’. ‘Just…’ Tony leans over your table. ‘Promise me you won’t let this be a thing, he’s dangerous’. ‘Hey, I can take care of myself. And he’s more like you than you think’. ‘I take offense to that’ Tony says, without actually sounding or looking offended. ‘You don’t like being compared to a God?’ you ask teasingly.

Tony smirks. ‘You got me. I’m going back to work’ he finally turns away to sit at his desk. The three of you continue working.

xx

At last. The training room. You walk into the roomy glass cage that has an arsenal of knives, swords, spears, guns, and other alien weaponry lining the wall. You feel at home.

‘What we feeling like today?’ Natasha’s voice comes up behind you. ‘I’m feeling the katanas’ you say, your hands running over the colourful handles of the katanas.

Nat takes a pair for herself, and you take yours. ‘Hand to hand first’ Nat says. As is usual. You place the katanas in the harness strapped to your back and take your fighting stance.

Nat goes to punch you and you block it. Her other hand comes to chop at your neck, which you also manage to block by holding her wrist, then flipping her over so she lands on her back.

‘At least give me a challenge’ you tease. ‘Just getting your ego up so I can bring it crashing down’ she smiles, as she gets up. You know she’s not lying. ‘You’re terribly mean’ you say. You take your fighting stance once again.

Two hours later, after your session with Natasha ends, you place the Katanas back on the wall. ‘Can I take these on the extraction mission?’

‘You can take anything you want. Just don’t take too much, we don’t want to be weighed down’. ‘Right’ you look at the katanas. They really are gorgeous. ‘Where did we get these?’ ‘They used to be Lady Sif’s. She left them with S. H. I. E. L. D, and S. H. I. E. L. D gave it to Tony’.

You touch the handles again, which has some Norse story etched on it in gold and red tones. ‘They’re beautiful’.

‘They are’ Natasha agrees, unhooking her harness and placing it on the wall as well. ‘Do you know the story?’

You nod. You’ve grown up reading stories of Greek and Norse myths. ‘This scene is Odin stealing poetry from the Giants and flying back to Asgard with it’ you point at something in the handle. ‘That’s earth. As Odin was flying over Earth, some of the poetry spilled here, which is how we have the art form’.

You stare at the handle a while longer.

‘Do you have a thing going on with Loki?’ Natasha asks. ‘What! No! How many people has Tony told?’ ‘Just me. I happened to pass by when he left your agenda’. ‘Bruce knows too’. ‘Bruce!? Why?’ ‘Cuz Tony can’t shut up’ you say. ‘Does it bother you?’ ‘Him not shutting up or people knowing about it?’ ‘The second one’. ‘I don’t really care’ you shrug, knowing that it was inevitable, ‘But I know how silly rumours can affect people, so I wish people would stop spinning it like that for Loki’s sake’. ‘Right’ she nods, understanding. ‘I’ll make sure no one else knows’. ‘Thanks Nat’ you smile at her. ‘I have to shower and go back to the lab. Bye!’

‘Bye!’

xx

‘We’ve made progress!’ Tony yells at you as you walk back in.

‘That’s excellent!’ you know Tony is absolutely dying to tell you what he uncovered, but you aren’t going to give him the satisfaction of telling you immediately for outing your little sleepover to Bruce. ‘But you should eat first’.

‘Yeah yeah, listen to this, so Bruce said…’ ‘No, I literally meant eat first, talk later’.

Tony looks like you’ve just slapped him. ‘It’ll take a second’.

‘I won’t hear it until you’ve had something to eat’ you unwrap the falafels and shawarmas you got from the food truck downstairs.

He glares at you, grabs a falafel, takes the smallest bite and sets it back down again. ‘Now…’

‘Actually, I could eat too’ Bruce walks over to grab himself a shawarma, and proceeds to open the wrapper very, very slowly.

You grin at Tony. Understanding that there really is no way you will listen, he sits down to eat a proper meal.

After throwing away the wrappers, he comes and sits down next to you. ‘Bruce said it would be so funny if we got Vision to talk to it like it’s his cousin, and I got an idea’.

‘Okay?’ ‘They’re family!’ ‘Ohana’ you say, still chewing and looking at him with dead seriousness.

Tony glares at you again, the occasional eating noises from Bruce making you internally lose it.

‘As I was saying, we don’t have to use the same Time Stone method, but we don’t have to completely abandon it either’. ‘But they do vastly different things from each other, we even tried all the…’ ‘Yes, but you haven’t tried combinations’ he runs to your laptop. ‘I was going through your notes; look at what you’ve written here’.

You read it: "So basically it’s like those old rotary phones. Strange ran the dial to 6, then 4, then 9, then 1, until it dialled a number and made a call."

 ‘I was really sleepy when I wrote that’ you say. ‘We can’t crack the stone, we have to learn to first use it, then connect with it’. ‘We’ve been over this, Tony, none of us know how…’ ‘No, I won’t do it’.

You were fully ready to shoot Tony down, but damn, he decides to be reasonable!?

‘I was thinking we can just put Vision in the mirror dimension and ask him to use it in a combination of ways. See what clicks. I mean if anyone would know, it would be Vision, right? Maybe if there’s a way to speak to him while he is IN the mirror dimension, we can remotely control it’  

‘I’ll have to ask Strange first’. ‘DO THAT’ Tony screams and Bruce jumps. ‘LET ME EAT MAN!’ he yells back.

You chuckle. ‘So… I'll email Strange then, shall I?’ ‘Yes. And kid?’

You roll your eyes but smile at the endearment. ‘Yes?’

‘You did good. I couldn’t have done it without you’.

You take the laptop from Tony’s hands and sit down to write the email to Strange.

_______________________________________________________________________

[maedarakat]

Covered in Mud

——

The sky had been threatening to spill all day, all gray clouds offset by deep threatening purples. Nobody could predict when it would happen, but when it did, the clouds seemed to crack open like an egg, coating the Edge in a sudden shower of hailstones, rain, wild gusts of wind and crackling peals of thunder.

It was a truly impressive act of Thor, Astrid thought, drinking from her mug under the Clubhouse roof she had mended and patched herself before the rain season came. Not a drop so far. She was feeling a little smug, especially because Hiccup had waved away all her reminders to fix his own roof in a timely manner and was now grumpily carrying in an armload of drenched blueprints, notebooks and maps to dry out in front of the fire.

Toothless sneezed as he followed after, ears flat and drenched to his skin. More wet scrolls were sticking out of the saddle bags and Astrid came over to help unload them and spread them out.  

“No, no, I got this,” Hiccup sighed. “I brought it on myself, you were right. I should have fixed the roof.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Astrid said.

“You didn’t have to. I can tell you’re dying to say ‘I told you so’ because that’s the expression you always make when you’re about to.” Hiccup’s tone was playful but also not, and Astrid tried her best to navigate the tricky waters of what he really meant to say.

Passive-aggressiveness, Ruff had supplied once, when both of them were in their cups and Astrid had found herself venting. It was nice to have a word to it, but what an oddly perfect word for every situation with Hiccup she seemed to find herself in lately.

Right now he either wanted her to reassure him and apologize, or go back to her warm drink and leave him alone. Neither option seemed ideal, but she was saved from the guesswork by a frustrated groan from Snotlout who tossed some dry wood and a pile of bundled kindling out of his cloak onto the floor.

Lout was wet, but a few hours worth of firewood had been rescued thanks to his quick thinking and the sacrifice of his cloak. Grumbling, he started stacking it into a pile. Astrid gladly went to help with that chore instead, and Hiccup huffed. He’d wanted her to choose the first option apparently, but it was no good to backtrack now - no matter what she did, it would become an argument later that everyone would pretend they hadn’t heard. She didn’t engage, playing dumb to his irritated glances and once the wood was stacked, she checked on the stew.

He was having trouble keeping one of the maps from rolling back up instead of laying flat. Astrid knew better than to suggest getting small stones from the potted flowers outside to weigh down the corners. It would be insulting somehow.

“What did you make for dinner?” Hiccup asked, just giving up and holding down the corners with his hands. He was apparently going to stay like that for a while. 

Astrid sighed inwardly. “Yak stew.” Hiccup didn’t acknowledge the answer or look up at her, seemingly deep in thought and scowling.

“I’m tired of yak. When can we have boar or venison again?” Snotlout butted in and really, honestly, bless him. Astrid hadn’t wanted to hear Hiccup’s attempts to dodge out of eating any. He never seemed to be hungry on days when it was her turn to cook.

“When the rains let up, we can go hunting. But yak meat is what we have the most of.”

“Who first decided to eat a yak anyway?” Ruff asked, walking in with Fishlegs. “They’re like giant adorable sheepdogs with horns. That you can practice braiding on. They just stand there and let you. What ‘honorable viking’ decided to ‘hunt’ that?”

“Well, sometimes during famines when there’s not a lot of food to hunt -“ Fishlegs started, until Ruffnut gave him a withering look. “Oh you weren’t really asking, never mind.”

He was carrying a Maces and Talons board and the rule book. It had become necessary to have the rule book present; while playing, the twins liked to bend and tweak the boundaries of every single one. Astrid had to admit, it was thrilling to watch. Hiccup might even forget his bad mood and have a good time.

The only one missing now was Tuff.

When dinner was ready, and had been roasted thoroughly as well as stewed, Tuff had still not shown up.

Astrid left it up to the others to serve themselves and carried a covered bowl for Tuff toward his hut. It wasn’t like him to be late for dinner unless he was dramatically late. She relaxed when she saw a candle on in his window and the chimney putting out smoke.

“Hey, Tuff. Get attacked by a wolf or something?” Astrid asked automatically when he opened the door. She’d said it carelessly, an inside joke between all of them, but Tuff’s appearance took her aback.

He was a wall of mud with eyes and stiffening braids. He currently held a peeping ball of damp fluff in a towel draped over his hand - apparently trying to dry off the chicks before seeing to himself.

The storm had caught everyone at least a little off guard but ... “Why are you covered in mud?” Astrid asked.

If Tuff could have looked any angrier, the mud surely would have baked and fallen off him in crisp pieces.

“Because that ... that absolute waste of feathers-“ he started, absolutely fuming.

“Peep,” the chick helpfully interrupted.

“Excuse me - because your father,” Tuff said instead to the chick, voice dripping with scorn. “Would not come inside when he was directed to before the storm hit, oh no - Fustercluck knows best! Fustercluck thinks a rickety old toolshed is the best place to keep his chicks safe during a storm like this! And so he led me on a merry f-“

“Peep.”

“-cking chase around in the mud with half of you guys unhelpfully following him, until I finally grabbed him so you would follow us all inside.” Tuff sighed dramatically and Astrid shook her head, grinning. He was more a mother hen than Chicken. It was endearing.

“Imprinting’s a fine concept and all, really,” Tuff said, like he was letting her in on a secret. “Less fine when there’s a complete doorknob standing there on hatching day. Sorry, I won’t be hanging with you guys tonight, A. I gotta get them dried off so they don’t catch colds. I can’t come to dinner looking like this anyway.”

“So did you let your dumbass rooster inside or did you throw him back out to stay in his shed?”

“Oh I wanted to, believe me.” Tuff made a face and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. There, on a perch made for two, Fustercluck and Chicken were preening each other’s feathers and burbling lovingly. “She wouldn’t have it.”

And he wasn’t anywhere near that heartless. Astrid knew that better than he seemed to himself. She came in, set the bowl on the table and picked up a towel. “Tell you what. After we dry off the chicks, I’ll help you get all this mud off you.”

“Oh. Okay, thanks,” Tuff said, offering her a smile and a different wet chick.

They got them clean and fluffed up and Chicken accepted them into her nest for the night, preening them the rest of the way dry. Tuff closed them in and noticed the bowl on the table. “Could I have some of your soup if you aren’t going to eat it? It’s going to get cold.”

Astrid smiled. “It’s yours, I brought it for you. In case you were sick or reading or decided to paint a wall.”

“You did?” Tuff didn’t give her time to take the offer back, picking the bowl up and draining it.  He loved it when people cooked for him - Ruff had told her that.

She set a pot of water on his stove to heat up and looked for towels while he shed all but his leggings. He was trying to tie his hair back and out of the way but his braids were heavy and caked.

Astrid took over, making him sit in a chair and lean his hair back into a basin of clean warm water. Another pot of water was set to warm up on the fire. Poor Tuff would need more - probably most of it for his hair.

He sighed blissfully as the first soak drew the worst of the dirt and mud away, turning the basin water immediately opaque. “It feels like the fifty pound Night-terror napping on my head just woke up and flew away.”

“Yeah, I bet. This is mostly clay. You guys should put a potters wheel in your hut.”

“I’m not going to make anything resembling a normal piece of crockery,” he vowed.

“That’s alright. I’m sure Ruff won’t be making anything resembling a non-offensive piece of crockery,” Astrid said, and Tuff laughed.

He helped her change out the water to do his hair once more until it was closer to its normal golden color. A swim in the morning would help get the rest of it clear.

Astrid dabbed a towel into hot water and gently ran it over the patches of mud on his skin that had caked dry. When it was softened, she wiped the dirt away just as gently. Tuff followed her motions, getting his chest and arms and legs while she got his back.

Tuff sighed softly when they were finished, his exhaustion and relief tangible. “Thanks, A,” he said. “Did you have dinner yet?”

“No, but it’s fine. I’m sure there’s plenty of yak stew left over,” she said wryly.

“Stew would be cold by now. Here.” He got up, and headed to his pantry. He gifted her with a plate of cracked walnuts, dried apricot slices, goat cheese, and a few hard boiled eggs.

All put together, it looked like a feast for some warrior elf maiden traveling Midgard. Astrid smiled and cleaned her plate of everything that had been offered, eating slowly while Tuff - clean and in much better spirits - laughingly recounted his madcap adventure of chasing a very stubborn rooster all across a muddy, slippery, hole-filled yard. Barf and Belch had dug a man-sized pit earlier to hide their favorite bone and it had filled up quickly with a foamy slurry of mud and rainwater. Tuff had apparently forgotten this and went down with a splash.

Astrid couldn’t stop laughing - not at his story but at the way he told it. “I wish I could have seen that! You probably looked like some ravenous troll clawing its way out of Niflheim - no wonder the chickens freaked out and ran away! I would have run too, if you’d just popped out of the ground! And with all that lightning and thunder -“

“You would have run from a troll? You?” Tuff scoffed. “That poor thing would have been tied to a chair in an hour, begging you to call his mother to come pick him up.”

She cackled and rubbed at her cheeks, which were seriously aching by now. Astrid hadn’t laughed this hard in a while. It was definitely good for her.

They said their good nights a little while after Ruff came back to the hut, not drunk but definitely not sober. “You guy’s missed a really dumb boring match in which everyone followed the same dumb boring rules.” She stared at her brother, still casually shirtless, only wearing his leggings. “And apparently you guys played strip-poker instead. And my brother ... lost? Won? Who knows. Not asking ‘cause I’m gonna forget everything in the morning anyway!” Ruffnut stomped cheerfully up to the loft to pass out across her own bed.

Tuff still had his face in his hands by the time her snores drifted down and Astrid was beet red, snickering helplessly.

“On that note, we should probably get to bed too,” she finally managed, wiping her eyes.

Tuff nodded, getting up. “Yeah, I’ll walk you to the door. Thanks for everything. This was a good night.” He grinned at her, soft and hopeful and Astrid leaned in without thinking, and kissed the corner of his mouth.

She pulled back and they stared at each other, neither one wanting to blink first.

“Goodnight,” Astrid managed to squeak out finally, because her mom had told her that shield maidens never started what they couldn’t finish. “See you tomorrow?”

Tuff hand went up to touch where she had kissed him and then he seemed to remember himself and dropped his arm down. “Yeah. S-Swimming, right?” It was an offer to stay friends, if she thought she had made a mistake.

“Sure, I’ll dress for it. See you at dawn?”

“Yeah.” Tuff stared at her from the doorway and she really wanted to kiss him again. Astrid thought of Hiccup still trying to dry his papers and feeling slighted that she hadn’t stayed to help him. She weighed the pros and cons of tipping her boat over and refusing to navigate anymore of his confusing waters ever again.

Happily, Tuffnut leaned forward and caught her lips, solving the equation.

[ivyveil]

Axes and Ohs

the one where Harry’s masculinity is validated, Y/N is a needy hoe and adores herself for it, and once again Nick is left to make everything magically work out.

(Harry throwing an axe 100% is the inspiration xoxo)

A/N: This was my most popular series and I’ve decided to re-upload it! :) Check here for the masterlist.

The group chat wasn’t the same after the BBC show aired. 

Y/N was horrendously offended they hadn’t invited her (because that was her fucking day off and they had known it, couldn’t the producers cut out the footage with her anyway?) and was relentlessly switching between passive-aggressively bringing it up and directly informing her boys she was going to ignore them “for the rest of 4ever”. That wouldn’t last long, though, but Y/N felt they weren’t grasping her overall point.

Harry usually replied with “:-(“s and Nick would send memes from 2008. They weren’t very respectful, she felt. Although she was mostly teasing, there was a bit of offense that they hadn’t thought to invite her. Work had been cluttering up her mind for the majority of the week, and she often called Nick at night so they could rant to each other about everything. Cheaper than a therapist, they had both figured. So, Nick knew how stressed she had been, how it bogged down her mind and kept her up at night. How deadlines swarmed against her skull and kept her fingers itching for more work, to get more done. And Nick had promised to organize something, so they could all do something together, and Y/N’s left to find out that him and Harry hung out without her? It’s like Snapchat but worse, because the whole world saw it and was constantly tagging her in the photos.

Her boys eventually decided it would be a nice surprise to bring her to an ax-throwing range, to get her to shut up, and to show what lovely people they were. A quality compromise.

She was pleased with their invitation, even apologizing quietly for her texts, which they readily forgave (because she’s never seriously angry, and Nick more so laughed than got offended by her threats). 

(Harry had taken her seriously after the first text and had called her up immediately, asking quietly in a confused tone if she was OK. Once he found out that yeah, she was fine, she was just thriving off of being difficult as a temporary coping mechanism, he started waving her off.)

And things seemed to be going well, Harry had even made a quick Road Trip playlist for the hour ride out to the range. Nick was the driver, his elbow against the window and his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. Harry was in the passenger seat, rattling off most of the conversation (fairly talkative guy sometimes, once he had enough coffee).

Y/N was in the back, her legs laying out on the seat next to her, her back slouched against the door, ignoring Nick’s reminders to “don’t be an idiot, Y/N, buckle the fuck up” and tossing trail mix every so often at Harry’s hair. Popcorn was the easiest to get caught in his locks, and his grumbling “Hey, stop tha’” as he brushed his fingers through his curls didn’t do much to quell her desire for entertainment.

It was when they were at the range that things start to feel different. The instructions made her nervous. She was never one to have graceful coordination to begin with, and the instructor was extraordinarily patient with her questions. Harry and Nick were goofing around by the edges of the facility, pretending to trip and land on their axes, feeling fairly adequate in their abilities since they had done it before.

Y/N thinks she’s pretty sane. She’s seen those pictures of the clown from IT all over the Internet – the one people are kinky-into? And yeah, no, she’s proper not into that. At all. Zero percent. Murderers are not gonna get it, even in cool sneakers.

But, there’s something disturbingly obscene about Harry with an ax. It was attractive in a completely indecent sense. How serious he became, when it was in his hands, how the light danced against his cheek, against the tip of the ax. How he lined it up so carefully, his eyebrows coming together and his tongue poking through his lips in concentration, his Adam’s apple shifting as he focused. 

It was quite different from Nick, who was tossing the blunted objects like he didn’t have a care in the world. Y/N was stupefied they hadn’t been removed from the facility yet. To his credit, Nick was trying to make Y/N less nervous, because she hadn’t even tried to throw one yet and they’d been there for half an hour. It wasn’t working, obviously.

He felt bad, he truly did, that she had felt so alone lately. Things at her work were stressful, especially since she was fighting against some sexist pricks near the top of the cooperation ladder. He had offered to bring an ax with him, next time he dropped off flowers at the front desk (because he knew that it made Y/N’s whole week), but she had flat-out said no.

Y/N didn’t want to use her rom-com knowledge to advance a particular agenda, but she rationalized that this was an activity she genuinely wanted to get better at. Build up some strength and improve her aim - quality goals. Asking a friend for help was normal, she reckoned. And Harry was taking it more seriously than Nick, so it would be logical to ask him, over her friend who was on his phone, ax held between his thighs.

“H? Could you help me a bit? Can’t get the angle to feel right,” Y/N pointed the ax somewhat at the target, loosening her wrists to keep the ax dangly. Harry quirked his eyebrows at her, his serious expression breaking a bit when he saw how poorly she was doing.

Pete, the instructor who had been hovering around Y/N’s station since the second they arrived, began to raise his hand. Presumably to offer assistance, if his wide eyes and blushing cheeks were a sign, but it just so happened that at that exact moment, Nick dropped an ax on his foot. It was the handle, mind you, but it still led to Nick’s profane slur of choice words to slit the air.

“Fuck, my foot! It’s gone! Agh, ah, shit, damn, motherfucker, ugh, uhhhhhh, wow, wowzers, help, ouchie,” Nick yelped, each onomatopoeia becoming increasingly louder. He grasped onto his ankle firmly and jumped on one foot, hobbling a bit towards the edge of the premise.

Pete had no option but to follow Nick, to talk him down to quit moving so much in order for the employee to get a proper look at the ankle. Nick kept a watchful eye on his friends a few feet over, though, and only dropped his foot when Harry had made his way next to Y/N.

(Funnily enough, Harry and Y/N hadn’t even noticed Nick, they were so wrapped up in their pretense and drama.)

So, Harry cleared his throat and nodded at Y/N, putting down his own ax. He stepped directly behind her, and perhaps it was her wistful imagination but she thought she felt the warmth radiate from his chest to her back. His arms went around hers, hugging against her shoulders and his fingertips grazing against her knuckles. Y/N was painfully aware of how close his lips were to her left ear. 

It was one of those fantasies in her mind she couldn’t turn off, it just began in her mind. It was a continuous loop of one question, of how it would feel like if he leaned in a bit more. If he gently tugged at her ear with his teeth, his arms grazing back up her arms, closer to her body, before down her sides. How would it feel for him to move down her neck, his breath hitching quietly, nipping softly at the skin. And what bothered her the most, was that all these fantasies began when she saw him holding an ax. How fucking rude.

Truthfully, his lips were far enough for it to not seem weird, but in her state of mind Y/N was bound to exaggerate things to herself. Harry had riled her up, and it only grew increasingly more hot under her jumper when she was surrounded by his cologne again.

“Alright, love, let’s see what yeh got,” he was murmuring, and Y/N almost choked on air, before managing to make it a half-cough. She was unsure of what to say, really, so she sort of cleared her throat, a bigger cough, and moved her feet slightly, her ankles bumping against Harry’s toes. His fingers drifted down to align her elbows more, straightening them out to properly inspect the angle.

“Do I just…” she gestured towards the target with her chin, feeling completely uncoordinated and at a loss of how to move. Even less so than before, because at least she had oxygen when Harry was 10 feet away.

“Shhh, give me a mo’.” and he moved her hand to line up the ax better. “Here, yeh see how the target’s lining up with the point, right there?” Y/N nodded, giving a little ‘mhm’, frankly not seeing a difference at all, before turning her head towards him.

A bit of a mistake, though, because her lips grazed his cheek before he had registered what had happened; he was more focused on helping Y/N out than where her face was. 

Harry had been feeling a bit smug, in the way that simultaneously annoyed him, because Y/N was asking for his help, yeah? She wanted him to show her how it was done, because she knew he could do it. It was intoxicating in a boyish manner, that Y/N was asking him for help.

She leaned her head back a bit, moving her lips farther away. The air didn’t feel intimate or sexy to her right then, just awkward and a rush of blood in her ears.

Harry took a step away, biting back a smile as he gestured to the target.

“Go fo’ it.”

“Well, I just…could you…could you do it, once more? Just so I could see,” she held out the ax to Harry, eyebrows coming together in frustration. She had originally asked Harry for help because the selfish part of her heart wanted her to hurt, hurt deep. But she also didn’t want to make a fool of herself. The concerns that had led her to that moment had a foundation of genuity – Y/N had no clue what was going on.

Harry smirked, which made Y/N huff a bit because yes, she accepted he was good, but that was no reason to be a lil dick-shit about it.

He obliged, moving forward and taking the ax from her hands. In the split-second between the transfer over, she almost dropped it (Harry shouldn’t have been so slow, in her defense) and Harry had to stumble forward to catch it properly. Y/N laughed a bit, mumbling apologies, when Harry shot her a faux-upset look.

Without a word, he stepped in front of her to line it up carefully, like how he was doing when Y/N was subtly checking him out. Taking a step forward, and pursing his lips a ridiculous amount, Harry threw the ax. Y/N gulped when she could practically see his back muscles against his shirt. How the fuck did he gain those, being so tiny and cute? Y/N felt, not for the first time, offended by Harry Styles’ existence.

The ax hit the bulls-eye.

Even Nick cheered, from the sidelines, from where he was forcing Pete to bring out the special gauze wrap for his foot. Might even see if he could finagle some crutches outta the establishment, hobble out and get loads of sympathy from his two besties. Y/N clapped loudly, letting out a whoop; several of the other people at the establishment yelled Harry on, as well.

“Nicely done, Styles,” she told him as he sauntered back over to her, his ego pleasantly padded with success.

“I’m a natural,” he sang, and his smile seemed to take up most of his eyes, his eyes crinkling a bit. It was Y/N’s favorite smile of his (not that she had one, no way - but she 100% did). She grinned softly back, turning her face.

“Have you done it before, yeah? Been an expert for a while, I’m guessing,” Y/N mused, half-attempting to get away from having to try it herself, half-enjoying seeing him flush with glee.

“Oh, loads. Ax-murderer, that’s me,” he solemnly agreed, before a giggle came over his lips. He was on an adrenaline rush, it seemed, a small one but enough to keep his fingers moving against his hair, pulling slightly at the roots.

“Dunno if I could kill someone, honest,” he continued, almost seriously considering the possibility, “Think if it came to it, I’d fuck somethin’ up. Trip or whatever. Can’t even get a juice open proper, dunno how I’d do with a knife.”

“No one was talking about knives Harry, just axes. My god, you deeply concern me.” Y/N shook her head, shifting her gaze down towards the ax she was supposed to throw. Just as her fingers wrapped back around the wooden base of it, however, Pete walked up to the couple.

“Um, I’m sorry, but we had to ask your friend to leave? He’s not using the equipment properly, safety hazard,” and he shifted his stare between Harry and Y/N, his hands wringing each other and his bangs sweaty against his forehead.

“Oh shit,” Harry mumbled, reaching in his back pocket to draw out his phone. Sure enough, Nick had blown up the group chat with false allegations against the ax-range, complaining that Harry and Y/N were so wrapped up in each other they had forgotten him, how he felt like he was a child again left behind on the playground, and that axes were for babies anyway and they should try flame throwers next.

“Fuck,” Y/N agreed, before beginning her round of apologies to Pete. Not that she had to apologize for Nick frequently, but in the past there had been enough wild times for Y/N to have some memorized rambles of “sorry”s and “so sorry”s. Pete seemed okay enough, his sad eyes lingering on Y/N more than what either Harry or Y/N were comfortable with, so they left rather quickly.

The two of them walked out towards the garage, where Nick supposedly was waiting with his one crutch (he had grabbed one before making a run for it) and gauzed-foot. Y/N had her jacket bundled up under one arm, and Harry had his underneath his own. The sun had come out and the afternoon was pleasantly warm - Y/N thought about lowering the windows for the ride back.

Not much could explain it. The feelings had been there for whole afternoon, and Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on how to vocalize what he wanted to say. So, shifting his jacket to rest underneath his other arm, his fingers simply reached over to Y/N’s. They intertwined with hers, gently enough for her to pull away if she wanted. Although, for the sake of the hour-long ride home, Harry hoped she wouldn’t. It was (hopefully) casual enough to pass off for friends, but he couldn’t just walk back and do nothing about how fucking adorable she had looked, confused and dazed, surrounded by axes and loud, brash cheers.

Y/N was a bit surprised, to say the least, about how they had gone from throwing axes to holding hands. His was warm, although not clammy thank goodness, and she couldn’t help but notice the dimples that poked through when she tightened her grip. And maybe her own showed, a tiny bit, but who was looking? (Harry. Harry was looking.)

“What are you doing, Haz?” and she laughed quietly, her lower chest tightening a bit and her heart’s speed picking up.

“Just don’t want yeh seeing me as some ax-throwing madman, gotta remind yeh how much of a softie I am,” he replied easily, and if Y/N weren’t so caught up in her own emotions it would have been embarrassingly clear that he had mentally rehearsed those words, crafted his excuse to feel her hand in his.

And so they walked, back to the car, hand-in-hand, each of them stewing in their own thoughts. Perhaps they would excuse their actions, their thoughts and fantasies, by the time Nick dropped off Y/N late that night and drove Harry home. They could say it was just something in the air, something about getting away from the stress of the city. But what ended up staying in both of their minds, when it neared midnight and they were trying to draft out a casual text to the other person - was the multitude of shy smiles they shot at each other, walking back to the car, giddy off of axes and Nick being an idiot.

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

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Let me know your thoughts here, and check out the rest of my works if you’d like!

[felix-tee]

finders keepers | mink + fee

@kidrebelmink‌:

The weather was sort of nice today, meaning there was no rain and the overhanging clouds didn’t seem to offer any rain for the rest of the day either. If you looked well enough, you might see some sunshine once in a while pull through the grey clouds. Meaning a training session outside could be welcomed by all, or at least Mink was looking forward to some chucks of wind brushing through their hair, pulled at the short strands, having the sweat dry up under the edgy cold of a January season. Nothing wrong with a little cold.

The trainer had them walk a couple of laps in order to heat up, and Mink had been feeling extremely feisty that morning, being called back a couple of times whenever they pushed through into a sprint. That wasn’t the goal of the exercise. It didn’t hold Mink back however, they felt a surge of energy pick up and had to act on it. Their whole body felt like it was bursting with energy, wanting to run, fight, jump, whatever the trainer had in store for them.

After ten laps, which Mink finished first, the trainer teamed them up based on quality, and told them to work on their offense and defense poses. That part of training seemed even harder to Mink, because poses meant not really attacking other people, nor going all out. It meant holding back. And they were getting extremely irritated by holding back. Didn’t help that their opponent was someone they really wanted to smash. The other, probably noticing how Mink was jumping around on their spot, taunted them whenever it was their turn to attack. Saying things like “boy” or “girl”, which Mink hated, and telling them that they hit like a “girl”, which in itself was a stupid taunt, but the fact that the person had the audacity to assume their gender was a hateful thing.

Mink eventually, thinking the trainer wasn’t watching, made their move on their opponent, coming out of nowhere after having placed themselves in a defensive position, to attack the other straight on. Bending their stance a little so the put the other off guard, making use of the other’s sudden open pose, and swinging a fist into the other’s belly. Watching with great enjoyment how the person doubled over and fell to the ground.

Not a smart move however, the trainer shouted at them from a distance and told them to take a time out, sit at the bleachers until the end of training. Fuck! Mink threw the trainer a middle finger when they weren’t looking, and fuming, they made their way to the stupid benches.

To their surprise, they weren’t the only person who had to sit there, or at least they figured as much. Some youngster with blonde hair had taken a seat on the bleachers as well, he wore a pretty cool jacket, with flowers in different colors. They recognized it as a jacket that they also owned that exact jacket.

Still fuming, Mink sat down a little away from the other, looking up, studying him momentarily. “That’s a freaking awesome jacket.” They said, forcing themself not to look down, because from the corner of their eye they could see their opponent looking up with a grin. There was a little suspicion in their voice, as they studied the other. “I have the same one, but I lost it a couple days ago.”

@felix-tee

From behind a set of oversized, Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses, Felix sat chewing rather flavourless bubble gum on the bleachers like some kind of high school dramedy cliché. With his legs neatly and tightly crossed, his propped up ankle shook in an absent but consistent rhythm: he was bored. Restless. But he was also smug. 

He didn’t particularly want to be there—even back in grade school he’d had very little interest in watching or participating in the hype of team sports. In fact, the only thing that ever did put him in the stands a time or two had been when he’d either been there on the arm of a pretty and popular boy, who’d later try (try being the operative word) to get Felix out of his daks in the locker rooms, or because he’d simply wanted to soak in the view of jocks getting muddy and taking off their shirts at half time—that’s what they called it right? Half time? To be honest, if that was right, it was a lucky fucking guess. No matter the reason Felix had ever had to put him at one of those games, none of them had ever been for the sake of learning anything about the sport, or paying any kind of real attention.

But now he was smug, because he got to sit on the sidelines looking cute as fuck, if he did say so himself, and simply observe while everyone else was killing themselves over relays or circuits or... whatever the poor sods were doing. He sort of felt sorry for them. But not sorry enough to stop him from feeling a little triumphant that he was up here, smelling of tangy summer eau de parfume and they were down there smelling like... that. Of course, he couldn’t smell much at all from this vantage point other than salt water and seaweed carried up on the wind from the rocks below, but his nose crinkled just at the thought. He did, after all, have a very active and capable imagination. 

But Cambie has specifically told him that until further notice, he wouldn’t have to participate, and as soon as she got approval through the ‘correct avenues’—whatever that meant—they’d be able start their one on one dance training. Honestly, Felix doesn’t like to show too much enthusiasm for anything that someone of authority is offering to him, because it sort of puts him at risk of getting lazy and simply going along with rules or expectations, instead of making a fuss to get exactly what wants and how he wants it—and even if it’s a delicate, passive-aggressive fuss, he’d always rather make at least something of one, because getting too complacent was dangerous. It could mean that his standards were lowering, and that was a very slippery slope to find oneself on. One minute you’re at the top of the social food chain, and the next you’re making friends with the rejects and the lunch lady, wearing—shiver—knock off brand hand-me-downs and letting yourself physically and hygienically go. 

God, if he had any motivation at all to make even a single close friend (or fan) here, the leading one might strictly be so that he had someone to stab him in the throat if he ever let himself become one of those un-self-respecting bogans. Ugh, just... ew. 

So he made an effort to keep himself and his eagerness for Cambie’s plan both respectable and in check. He showed her enough sweet, angelic appreciation to encourage her to follow through with the whole thing, but monitored just how grateful he was, because he didn’t want to wind up in a position where she was the one holding all the power. She was only meant to think she was. 

Unfortunately, the truth of it was that he was already quite fond of Cambie. And he was genuindely very excited about the idea of dancing again. Like really dancing. With structure and a goal, and a purpose—and hell, a partner to do it with him. As self absorbed as he was, he had to admit it was more fun to share those kinds of things with other people—even if it was just so someone else was there to praise him and tell him what beautiful, impressive work he was doing. He knew that, of course, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like to also hear it confirmed.

But he was still waiting to hear from Cambie regarding setting up the dance sessions, and he didn’t really have too many friends to reach out to yet to keep his time filled, so for now he used the glaringly open block to sit perched in the stands watching everyone else suffer. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying it. But he found lying pretty easy, so—he’d be happy to tell you what you whatever you wanted to hear about his current mood, one way or another. 

The cherry on the cake, however, was that he’d found this fabulous floral jacket. It was a bright print of cherry reds, sunshine yellows and lime greens—there was even a hit of vibrant fuchsias in the daring and delightful petal-like design. Frankly, it looked designer, but he couldn’t really tell one way or another because some total drongo had gone and ripped out the label. Ugh, whoever the past owner was, they were clearly a tragedy.

But it’d just been lying over the back of one of the sofas in Delma, and it fit him perfectly. It was just a touch too big, as most things were on Felix, naturally, but that was also the ideal fit for the style. He didn’t know who it had belonged to, but it didn’t have a name in it anywhere, and if the owner had just gone and left something that fetch just lying around, they clearly didn’t appreciate its value, much less deserve it for themselves. Finders were totally keepers, anyway, everybody knew that. 

Besides, there wasn’t a chance in hell it looked as good on anyone here as it did on Felix. No offence to the Colony 22 population—there were at least a handful of pretty people worth taking long looks at around here—but he was Felix Turner. It wasn’t like anyone would expect them to compete with the likes of him.

The person who loped over to him then had been the little one causing trouble on the fields a few minutes ago. To be honest, Felix hadn’t been paying much attention to the kerfuffle because he’d been too busy staring at some fit, dark skinned boy running laps in the other direction (who’s brows, by the way, were totally slaying, like wow). But he looked to his new approaching company now, and he was glad he was wearing sunglasses because he could feel his expression running skeptical at first. This person looked.... dirty. And just a little too friendly, considering what he’d just half-witnessed on the field. It made Felix think this person was a little like a feral cat—unpredictable and possibly diseased. 

Maybe it was too early to judge—but that had never stopped Felix before. 

He blew a thin bubble with his gum. He’d probably been chewing it too long, because it was getting weak and a bit grainy, and the bubbles were barely holding any elasticity. It’d been pretty bad to start with, anyhow. 

With the compliment and the appreciation of his jacket, he was fully prepared to preen, and semi-preparing to like this stranger just a fraction more—but then the words, ‘but I lost it a couple days ago.’ 

Something latched onto Felix’ Adam’s apple uncomfortably, and the little blond faerie of a creature was yet again grateful he was wearing sunnies. He swallowed, kept his tone even, and tried to inject it with just enough positivity to pull off flattered, if a little bored. 

“Oh, thanks. It’s nice isn’t it? Well, clearly you have good taste.” 

[silverquillsideas]

Salmon and others were openly discussing rape and talking about drawing rape and there were people in the replies talking about how seeing a “rape drawing” changed the way they consumed content and shipped things (they meant that they liked the rape btw). If she hasn’t gone back to private, you can probably find those for yourself since they’re pretty recent. I thought you seemed nice but I’m really disappointed in you. Will be unfollowing and blocking.

Hello! I was debating on how (if at all) to answer this, since you seem to have already made up your mind to not hear anything further about this issue altogether.

But I do have a few things to say, regardless, because I found specific phrases you used, to be sketchy/unclear at best.

Warning tho : this is going to delve into a discussion of "rape and sexuality" from a real life perspective, since the fandom seems so bent upon drawing parallels to reality and compare fiction and irl examples. If you find that uncomfortable, block the tag "tw:rape" and scroll past.

_____

So, my first point of discussion : "Salmon and others were openly discussing rape and talking about drawing rape"

Putting aside the issue of the subject matter of the threads for a second, I'll focus on the other part : about *posting publicly*. I talked to three separate followers of the twt artist, who also happen to be my tumblr mutuals, and they basically confirmed the same thing : there was no "open discussion", in the sense, that, they did so either on Privatter (assuming you know how it works) or they did in the comment threads on their *personal twitter account*, and only those who were willing to engage in such a discussion, went ahead and joined. They did not encroach on anyone's space and invite them in forcefully.

I'm putting the screenshots of conversation I've had with one of my friends regarding this, and as you can see, none of it was *open for public viewing*

Also, here's the artist's own message that's pinned to their account :

Let me put this in perspective : suppose you're not into kpop (I picked a random example, btw) and find it weird and flamboyant, and you generally avoid it altogether. While scrolling through tumblr, you stumble upon a hardcore kpop blog, you're totally put off by the contents and you complain to your mutuals about how ABC person indulges in kpop and you found it weird and unappealing.

But my point is, there was nothing public about the said blog or account, because, by nature, every blog or account is a person's private space for expression of ideas. Yes, tumblr, twitter and other social media platforms are all *public* in the sense that they are hosted on public domains and anyone with an access to the Internet can stumble upon any website or blog listed therein. But, you, being a responsible, well discerning person, willingly stepped onto a personal blog or acc on which the owner was likely to present their own views, and started complaining about what you found there. Your statement implies, that you willingly browsed through the comment threads until the point you spotted these uncomfortable discussions and you voluntarily exposed yourself to the same.

My second point : "there were people in the replies talking about how seeing a "rape drawing" changed the way they consumed content and shipped things (they meant that they liked rape btw)"

I find it highly confusing how you generalised something as sensitive and complex as psychological behaviour on behalf of a bunch of strangers you never actually interacted with (or confirmed their views on the said matter) and proceeded to label them as "people who liked rape".

What does the statement "liking rape" mean anyway? And, does anyone who talk about or discusses rape, in the context of fanarts and fanfiction, and that too, "rape fantasy" in this case, (but I'll get to it in a moment) automatically becomes someone who likes the act? Or condones it happening in real life, to real people or situations? I'm curious as to which aspect of rape they talked about 'liking' (since your statement implies they explicitly stated so) : was it the pain, the trauma, the physical and psychological stress, or the violence and the sense of dominance over a helpless, real life person?

If you do have an answer supported by evidence, let me know, I'll modify my response gladly.

It brings me to my third point : these artists or the people who commented, were discussing, not about real life rape, but a fantasy situation in which they put two fictional characters together and made a fanart of them (the composition of the art in question is described in the conversation above).

Deriving pleasure from the actual act of rape or sexual violence is a pathological condition and needs medical or psychiatric treatment.

Deriving pleasure or indulging in paraphilic sexual fantasies, however, is not uncommon. I'll redirect you to @iamtrashforash 's post here that describes this issue more coherently. I'll also point you to articles written on PsychologyToday, based on research done on this specific topic of "Rape Fantasy" that I found, and I think everyone should have a look at them :

Article 1

Article 2

If I remember correctly, the actual comment I saw in the screenshot circulating around, regarding the controversy, went something along the lines of "I love seeing Ash's pained face in this situation", and that's what made people lose their minds. There was outrage over "How could you do that with Ash, a CSA survivor? It sends a bad message to them, it's triggering, it's disrespectful, you are disgusting, etc etc."

But, my own conversations with three people who are in real life CSA survivors, two of them who reached out to me in my DMs over the last two days, have given me a very different idea about what these people actually think regarding the art. Here's the hot take : they did not find it disturbing or offensive to themselves personally.

In fact, they pointed out, that they saw it as a fictional scenario, were well aware of the differences between the artist's intent and their potential real life behaviour (FYI, none of them drew the conclusion that either the artist or the people discussing it, "liked rape").

The fact that the comment threads were openly talking about indulging in such a fantasy is what seemed to baffle the more outspoken and outraged people, who proceeded to harass and send hate messages to the creators. But here's the fact : these fetishes have existed for as long as humanity has, and will continue to do so, regardless of whether you crucify a handful of people in a small corner of a fandom or not.

If you're familiar with the yaoi manga genre, or any adult erotica games (I can't cite any examples bc I don't have enough details, but I do know they exist), you'll find a plethora of works where all sorts of fantasy situations are presented : rape is fetishised, there's shape-shifters (vampires or otherwise), A/B/O dynamics, even bestiality. In other words, a major prevalence of themes like dominant, aggressive behaviour contrasted with helpless, passive behaviour as far as sexual situations go. And they are thriving. They have a huge pool of audience out in the world.

Whether these fetishes are "morally right or wrong" to indulge in, is not a question I have any authority to debate, because I'm not a clinical psychologist, or a behavioural scientist.

Personally speaking, I happen to be a demisexual person. Any discussion of sexual situations or scenarios outside of my own very narrow comfort zone or mental compatibility scares the shit out of me. And I find all of the above scenarios I described, as plainly unappealing and downright weird or scary. I will never, as long as I have my faculties in control, go out seeking any of them voluntarily, in either fanarts or fiction.

My point is, this is a complicated issue, I fully acknowledge that beforehand. We, as a fandom, got attached to Ash as a character, for so many different reasons. We all love him, respect him for standing up against all odds, and fighting against his fate all his life. That's the reason why the back-lash against these depictions got so violent, I think. People are more willing to see him heal, to see him make peace with his scars and move on. The general consensus with this line of thought was so ingrained in our minds, that people lashed out as soon as something "against the norms" and "potentially harmful" came to their notice.

But, the thing is, both these outcomes, are fictional. The fandom's biggest purpose is this : we weave fiction out of fiction itself. That's why we have fanarts and AUs and headcanons and a hundred other things. And different people will find different aspects of said fictional scenarios appealing. It's why we have so many ships on one hand and unfortunately, *ridiculous* ship-wars and toxic discourses on the other. But, it's okay to accept that there'll always be differences in such a wide space where everyone is coming together. It's okay to find content you don't agree with, and simply, move on.

But, I'll repeat myself : I'm not going to persecute people, who have carefully tagged, classified, and filtered their content, being mindful of the others in the fandom, and barge on their doors demanding "why they liked what they liked" and "how could they like such a thing??". Especially because it is fiction, involving fictional characters, separated from reality.

Had it been a real life discourse, involving actual people, I'd have definitely spoken out against it.

Also, to anon, if you find my views or ideas unpleasant, or find my completely sfw multifandom blog a safety hazard, then you're more than welcome to unfollow and block me. Your mental peace is all that I ask for. :)

[therealchampagnemamii]

None of you asked for these but I’m doing them anyway cause I have muse for it: CHW Edition

⛄️ – our muses build a snowman together

"Okay, I have carrots and buttons and a scarf, are we ready for this?” Chase laughed softly as he watched Titus running circles around Odessa and little Theo in the snow, sure that it really couldn’t get more perfect than this. “I mean you two could play all day but I was promised a snowman and I demand it.” He laughed at Odessa’s response and scooped Theo up in his arms, tickling his stomach before they found a good spot to start building. He sang Christmas songs loudly with his wife as they started to roll up a snowball and he took Theo’s hands to show him. “Just like that, bud. Doesn’t have to be perfect, you just have to feel good about it.” When the snowman was finally done, Chase’s smile couldn’t have been more proud and he was quick in pulling out his phone, Theo in his arms as Oddie lifted Titus up in the other and they took a few group shots, Chase’s smile enough to rival the sun at the moment. “Perfect, he whispered before turning the phone to show Odessa. “Out little family,” he sang out before leaning in to kiss her slowly, a bit forgetful of their surroundings until he felt Theo throw some snow at his chest. “I guess that’s our queue, we finished the snowman now it’s time for a snowball fight!” @rihannasweeddealer

❄️ – our muses get snowed in and the electricity goes out

"Wow I really can’t leave at all, can I.” Brodie sighed to himself as he glanced around the window of Juno’s place. He had just dropped the girls off at her place only for the storm outside to worsen and prevent him from leaving. It wasn’t like he hated being there, it was more that he didn’t want to take away from Juno’s time with the girls and he also had a few meetings today that had been pretty important to him. But when the power went out and Rhiannon was running to hug him, he scooped her up immediately and looked at Juno.  It only took him a second to start moving, rubbing Rhiannon’s back lightly as Juno told Marilyn where to find some flashlights and Willa to pull out the candles. Brodie was quick in pulling some blankets into the living room and wrapping Rhiannon up like a burrito if only to make her laugh. When she finally did, he had his hands free to make them a fire in the fireplace Juno said she rarely used. When they all finally settled down, Brodie took a breath, laughing softly as the three girls curled up under the blankets together, having already been half asleep in the car on the way over there. “Well..only one thing left to do,” he whispered and nudged Juno before going back into the kitchen to get them something to drink. Brodie had never considered himself good in an emergency but the past few hours had passed pretty calmly and he had found that everything came natural to him when he was around Juno. He trusted her more than anyone and they had always been a good team. He let out a soft sigh as they sat on the couch across from the girls, his smile growing by the second. “We really did that, didn’t we. Full offense..but we have the best kids in the world.” He glanced over at her and smiled sweetly, reaching over to give her hand a squeeze. He was about to lean in to say something else when his phone rang, making him jump and drop her hand, his cheeks going red when he dropped his phone. “I uh..I should take this,” he mumbled, clearing his throat before he picked up his phone and got up to take the call in the next room, fully prepared to be passive aggressive to whoever was on the other end. @somidoumas

🍗 – our muses have to cook a holiday dinner together

"Now I know you’re not trying to tell me how to make these tamales. Just because my mother taught you a few times doesn’t mean you know what you’re doing.” Jose Luis smirked as he turned away from the stove and towards his girlfriend who has mostly been occupied with the decorations for the night. They had made a decision to host Christmas Eve in their new apartment and he was hoping to finally get some time to celebrate Josefina finally getting through the MCAT. If he was being the most honest with himself, he couldn’t remember a time when he was happier. Being with Josefina in a more serious way had opened up a whole new side to their relationship and as cheesy as it sounded, he really did fall more and more in love with her every day. Time after time just proved that they were meant to be and Jose Luis was counting his blessings that he had been honored enough to have her in his life for so long. He had always envied his sister’s relationship and how solid and unattainable it seemed. But being with Jo made him feel like he had found his own kind of perfect and he wouldn’t have changed a thing. “Come here, taste this.” He slid his arm around her waste and pulled her closer, spooning some of the sauce he had just made and held the spoon to her lips for her to taste. “Delicious, right? Your man is a genius in the kitchen, just saying.” He winked and dipped his head down to kiss her softly, his hand reaching down to squeeze her ass. “Real question, how much time do you think we have before they get here? Follow up question, do you think we have time for a quickie?” @dianeskeeton

🍷– our muses wake up hungover after a office party and don’t remember what happened

Rose’s head felt like it was about to bust open with how much her head was pounding, groaning as she turned over in her bed slowly. She had to stifle a laugh when she finally opened her eyes and was greeted by a pair of fake elf ears and a snoring Logan by her side. It took a moment for the night to come back to her, to remember how she and Logan had ended up in bed together for the fourth time in two weeks. They had both talked about not wanting to mess up their friendship or to risk Lavender finding out but once they had crossed that line, it was hard to go back now that she knew what it was like to be close to her. It was confusing to say the least since she had spent most of the past year in a relationship. Sure, Logan had always been in a constant in her life and while they weren’t as close as Logan was with her little sister, she had always felt like their connection was fairly special too. She took a moment just to look at her before leaning over to kiss her cheek and dragging her fingers up the younger girls back. “Good morning, elf,” she teased, careful not to raise her voice too high as she was sure it would throw both of them off. When Logan finally stirred she tipped the elf ears off of her head so she could see her better. “Just needed to make sure you were alive. I think we both need water. And probably a shower and food and..” she trailed off and laughed softly. “I just made myself tired speaking about all of that. We really went hard for the holidays, didn’t we?” Her smile never faded as Logan responded, her cheeks red when she finally stopped speaking and before she knew it she and Logan were tangled up together again and she let out a content sigh as she buried her face in her neck and kissed it softly. “You’ve 100% made the holidays more bearable in every sense. I think I may love Christmas now.”

✈️ – our muses go on a holiday vacation together

"You know, I just had a moment where I kind of missed my family but this view..my god.” Gabby let out a low whistle as she stood in the doorway that led to the beachside patio of their hotel room. Holidays were usually all about family time but Gabby had manage to convince Sloan that spending New Years Eve on vacation was a good idea and so far she hadn’t been wrong. They had both been working so hard lately but Sloan had worked on an Oscar nominated film this year and she wanted her to feel as celebrated as possible. “You know, one day we could totally live abroad. Somewhere tropical where you can be in your swim suit all the time.” She laughed softly and walked closer to her before sitting in her lap. She took Sloan’s glass of champagne and took a few sips. Part of her had wanted to party in the New Year but after months of busy schedules, she wanted nothing more than to just be in Sloan’s company, finding that uninterrupted time with her was the best gift she had gotten that Christmas. She could hear people counting down in the distance, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she cupped Sloan’s cheek and started to pull her closer. When she heard the countdown reach 1 and the fireworks go off in the distance, she leaned in and kissed her passionately, lingering for a moment before she pressed her forehead against, Sloan’s. “Feliz Año Nuevo, mi amor,” she whispered and kissed her again, before kissing her all over her face through her laughter. “I love you so much, you know that, right?” Her smile widened as Sloan responded and she set her glass aside, leaning in to kiss her again but showed no sign of stopping this time as she moved to lay her back on the couch.

🎅 – one of our muses is dressed as santa and the other sits in their lap

When Tim had told her that the gym would be holding some kind of Christmas fundraiser for kids, Amber had no idea that her boyfriend would get rope into dressing up as santa. But sure enough, when she got there with a ton of donations, she found the long line of kids leading up to a dressed up Tim who definitely had to stuff his costume to be a bit more believable. She knew he hated being the center of attention but he was so good with kids it was hard not to be completely endeared as she watched him play the role perfectly. She did her best to stay in the background, helping the staff with food and presents and making sure the kids didn’t get too out of control. But as the day was winding down and the line got shorter, Amber eventually made her way to the front, a cheesy grin on her face as she caught his eye. “Have time for a few more gift wishes?” She laughed before easily falling into his lap, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he pulled his fake beard down so she could kiss him softly. “Is this the part where I say all I want for christmas is you? Because that’s 100% true but I also want a new blender for our apartment. I think that’s reasonable, right?”

💔 – our muses are both single on christmas

Since his divorce with Colette, Leo had done his best to keep a low profile, to just focus on work and pushing his career forward. He was doing his best to not push his friends away as he tried to process everything that had happened but as more months passed, the easier it got. It was why he had let Day and Ray convince him that their new Years Eve party was the perfect opportunity for him to catch up with everyone and to ease back into life with his friend group. But if Leo were to take a second to think about it, he was most nervous about seeing Hailey, realizing that this was the first time in a really long time where they both weren’t in a relationship and though he had tried to convince himself that nothing was there anymore, he knew that would change the moment he saw her. And of course, he wasn’t wrong. 

“Oh shit,” he muttered to himself when he spotted her walk in, suddenly all too aware of how his tie looked and if his shoes had any scuff marks on them. Of course by the time he looked up she was closer to him already and he almost dropped his drink while trying to stand straighter, offering a sweet smile when heir eyes met. “Hey stranger, I was hoping you’d be here tonight,” he admitted, hesitating before he pulled her into a hug. He led his eyes close for a moment as he held her, noticing the way her hands rested so firmly on his back before they pulled away. “You look..amazing, Hails. I mean truly a sight for sore eyes.”

If he had it his way he would have spent the entire night catching up with her but of course Monty wanted group photos and then selfies and Day wanted a girls only photo so they were being shuffled in and out. Until the countdown started and Leo found himself searching the crowd for her, finding her just as the clock was about to strike twelve. He slid his arm around her waist and dipped her down, pressing his lips to hers as the crowd roared around them. But he didn’t hear much else than the sound of his heart beating in his ears, as he pulled her back up and pressed his forehead against hers. “Happy New Year, Hailey.” @ladyspug

🎄 – our muses decorate for christmas

"It’s still a bit crooked but do we really care? There’s no way we’re going to beat Rose and Logan or Amber and Tim when it comes to decorating. Plus we’re not hosting so I say, crooked decorations will rise!” Lavender laughed softly as she moved to stand next to Layla in front of their Christmas tree. It was the first Christmas they were celebrating in their apartment together and though the huge family party they were going to tonight was sure to fill up all their holiday cheer; there was something special about putting some decorations in their own place. “When our moms come over we can just turn the tree so it’s more aesthetically pleasing,” she joked and slid her arms around her girlfriend from behind and kissed her neck lightly. "I’m gonna start on those cakes I told your sister I’d make.” She pulled away from Layla and hummed along with the music playing from her computer, starting to dance around the kitchen. “Don’t make fun of me unless you’re gonna join,” she replied to Layla’s sarcastic remarks, going over to the laptop to put the volume up as she started dancing along even more, holding her hands out for Layla. “It’s just you and me, baby,” she reminded her, laughing softly when she finally stepped forward and she was able to kiss her a few times, her hands sliding into the back pockets of Layla’s jeans as she swayed in front of her. “Important question, how late are we allowed to be to this party because..” she trailed off and looked Layla over with a dreamy sigh. “I think there are a few other things I want to do before I bake.” @ladyspug

🍪 – our muses bake cookies together

“Look, I know me cooking..anything is ambitious but I have faith that with your supervision, following the instructions and the right soundtrack, we can accomplish anything.” Cass did her best to sound confident after having made a bet with Dove that she could actually cook something edible. She figured baking was easier than cooking and chocolate chip cookies couldn’t be so hard. She hooked up her phone to the speakers and started to dance around with Gen before focusing on the instructions. She had managed to get the cookies onto the baking sheet without the batter going everywhere and though it didn’t seem like quite the right color or texture they figured if they just slid it on in and let it cook then all would be right. “Okay, timer is set,” she said with a proud smile. She turned the volume up as they started to clean which only meant she missed the sound of the time when it went off. “Oh shit.” The alarm in the apartment went off and Cass let out a scream as she ran towards the oven and pulled it open, coughing as she grabbed the oven mitts and tried to fan away the smoke. “Shit, open the window!” She let out a groan as she finally took the pan out and looked over the burnt cookies. “I fucked that up real bad, didn’t I? Think if I just..buy some from the store and put it in tupperware she’ll know the difference?” @perfectlyfuckingcivils

🎁 – our muses exchange presents

"I uh, hate to be a nuisance, Fran, but you told me she’d be free an hour ago. I’ve been standing in her trailer for a good three hours. I almost ate all of her potato chips. Now? She’s on her way now? You promise? Thank youuu!” Percy took a deep breath and was quick in cleaning up the chips, getting on the floor for a quick moment to do some quick crunches before he heard the door to the trailer open and he jumped up, doing his best to flex as she walked in. They hadn’t seen each other in almost a month because of her shooting schedule and his traveling for the launch of his new line. But it was the holidays and if there was a time of year the Barnes-Finch’s valued it was that. Percy still considered them newlyweds even though they were nearing two years of being married and he was determined to keep his promise of keeping the spark alive. That and he’d take any excuse to show up in Sage’s trailed in a pair of red underwear, no shirt and a santa hat. “Surprise!” Percy yelled out when she walked in, laughing at her surprised face and pulling her close and kissing her hard the moment he was able to. “I figured I’d make a good gift this year,” he said softly as his hands fell to her waist, welcoming all the kisses she gave to his face and every other part of his torso. “Missed you too, beautiful.” His eyes were full of excitement as he looked her over and let out a laugh. “We’ll have plenty of time for gifts later, I promise I’m not your only gift but right now well right now I think that trailer couch really needs some breaking in, Mrs. Barnes-Finch.” @karlasouzawrites​

🎤 – one of our muses tries to get the other to sing christmas carols 

“Don’t give me that look, it’s going to be fun.” It was no secret that the holidays put an extra pep in Nathan’s step whenever it came around. Sure his family wasn’t exactly the warm and loving ones you saw on TV and he had made his own family out of his friends, but he was a big believer that things just got better when there was snow on the ground and Christmas music playing everywhere. He had seen tons of Christmas movie and even made a list of things he wanted to do when the holidays rolled around each year. Last year the boys had let him experiment with all kinds of hot chocolate flavors and indulged him when he asked to for all of them to take the trip to chop down the tree. This year though, he wanted to cross something off the top of his list but he knew he’d never be able to do it alone. Which was why he was now standing in the living room in his fuzzy socks and Christmas sweater with a powerpoint showing on the TV. “So..in conclusion, we will all benefit from joining the carolers this year. Our harmonies will be angelic and imagine all the possible stories we’ll be able to tell one day. And we get to travel around town and free hot chocolate.” He looked at each other their faces and took a few steps forward. “Is that a yes? Please say yes.” He waited a moment longer, his shoulders starting to sag slightly before Chuck jumped up at the same time as Knox and he clapped his hands together. “Okay yes, amazing, wait til you see the outfits I picked out for all of us!” @pgwrites @rihannasweeddealer @perfectlyfuckingcivils

💋 – our muses kiss under the mistletoe  

“You know, half of the time when I tell people to visit me they usually never do.” Fatima was sure she hadn’t stopped smiling since Daphne had landed in Logan Airport. It was surreal to have her there, to get the chance to show her what her actual life was like and as nervous as it made her, it felt natural to have her fit into this version of her life. “You..must really like me or something.” If Fatima was honest with herself, she had thought of Daphne quite a bit since leaving Rosewood and judging by their constant texting, the other girl had been thinking of her just as much. She handed Daphne a mug of hot chocolate as she joined her on the couch near the window, her apartment more decorated for the holidays than it usually was thanks to her little brothers visit earlier that week. “You know, I was actually wondering if I could give you one of your gifts early.” If Daphne looked close enough she could probably see the glint of excitement in Fatima’s eyes and the slight tint of red on her cheeks as she grabbed a box from the table next to the couch, sure it had been a while since she had done something so cheesy. “I figured we had to set things right for the sake of the holidays and since we both weren’t at that party..” she trailed off and took the top off the box to reveal the mistletoe she had bought, laughing softly as she looked at Daphne’s face to gauge her reaction. “I mean, not that I need mistletoe to have an excuse to kiss you, not that I can just like you kiss you whenever I want I mean that’s..presumptuous you know but I mean,” she stopped herself and cleared her throat, her cheeks going even redder once Daphne touched them. “I’m just..really happy you’re here,” she whispered, her heart pounding in her chest as they both leaned forward and she was able to kiss Daphne in a way she had been dreaming of since her last kiss. “Damn.” she whispered as she pulled away, her eyes still closed. “I think I might really love Christmas after all.” @perfectlyfuckingcivils

⛸️ – our muses go ice skating

"Why does it surprise you so much that I can skate?” Simon smirked as he spun around slowly to face Hubert, sure his cheeks were just as red from the cold. “I mean I’m not pro but I know a thing or two. A buddy of mine back home, his dad used to work Security for Rockefeller Center, always let us sneak in. I was like a fucking swan out there,” he joked and moved to stand next to Hubert, if only to give him an excuse to take his arm. “But my favorite part about skating is the after part. You know, chillin, having some hot chocolate, getting all nice and warm.” He wiggled his eyebrow before laughing at his own joke, rubbing at his nose to hide the way he had made his cheeks go even redder. He had known Hubert pretty much since he was adopted into the Rapp family but this had been the most amount of time they had spent together lately and he only hoped that he was being taken seriously. “Do you maybe want to go do that now?” He came to a slow stop in front of him, one of his fingers hooking into the loops on Hubert’s jeans to keep him close and steady. “I mean there’s some great hot chocolate around and I uh, I think I can do a..pretty damn good job of warming you up. You know if uh, if you want.” @spidcypools

👼 – our muses go to church services 

"Don’t look at me like that right now, we are in church on baby jesus birthday.” Willa was doing her best to stifle a laugh as she shook hands with members of the church and posed for photos for the local paper. She was eager to just be spending the day with her family but being Mayor called for a much more public appearance on Christmas morning and Willa was just grateful that Grace had offered to go with her. When they finally had a moment alone, she pulled Grace to the side and kissed her softly, taking a deep breath as she leaned into her. “I don’t want to mess with the spirits by doing it in a church though this dress you’re wearing is like a Christmas gift in itself.” She laughed softly as her cheeks went red at Grace’s response before she was called for another picture. She took Grace’s hand and ran back out, letting her assistant know that she would like to leave within the next ten minutes. When she was finally freed, she all too eagerly took Grace’s hand and told the driver to start the car, practically falling into the backseat with Grace the moment they were out of public view. “So,” she started and kissed her softly, her fingers trailing down Grace’s chest. “Tell me more about these gifts you got me this year.” @dianeskeeton

💲 – our muses go to the mall together to shop for presents

“Remember when Marnie and Mae still believed in Santa and it made our jobs 1000x easier. Why don’t we ever get the same credit as Santa?” Austin laughed as he and October walked through the mall, determined to get a head start on holiday shopping. “Simon finally seems like he’s happy to be apart of the family so I want to get him something special, you know? Like..maybe a leather joint holder.” He smirked as he waited for October’s reaction, laughing she rolled her eyes soon after. “Joking, I’ll wait until he turns 18 for that. The big question is,” he spun her around and pulled her closer if only to make her blush as he stole a kiss, “What am I going to get you? Can we just like..go on vacation and call it a gift?” He laughed and threw his arm around her shoulders, slowing to a stop when he spotted an athletics store and pointed at a boxing bag hanging in the window. “Between Hannibal and Simon, that might be a good investment, what do you think? Are we crushing parenting or what?” @pgwrites

⭐– our muses get dressed up for a holiday party  

“Okay something tells me walking in shirtless with a Santa hat is too overrated. I mean I know I’m usually lazy but if I’m walking in with you then I can’t look like I just rolled out of bed.” Though Simon showed no real sign of moving as he lay back on Samara’s bed and scrolled through his phone, about ten minutes away from taking a nap and just showing up at the party towards the end. He set his phone down on his chest when Samara walked back out from the bathroom to model one of her outfits. “It’s cute, like really cute but eh, maybe something with a bot more colorful pop, you know? It’s Christmas, Mara, not a funeral,” he joked, rolling on his side to avoid one of the pillows she through. “Okay, okay, I’ll be more helpful.” He took a breath and jumped to his feet, humming along to the music on her speakers as he followed her to her closet. “You know, if my arms weren’t so goddamn big, I’d rock one of these dresses. I mean have you seen these legs?” He smirked and pulled out a dress towards the end, checking out the label. “Oh shit, a Keegan Dolsen, damn.” He wiggled his eyebrows and held out the dress for her. “I think this will work and it has to because there’s a joint burning a hole in my pocket and I’d like to smoke it before we go.” He nudged her with a laugh as he walked back out towards the bed, finding that he was actually excited about the party tonight. His friendship with Samara had helped him step out of his comfort zone a bit and he found that he had a lot more fun at Rosewood parties when he was hanging out with her. “Maybe I should go for the shirtless look. You know, pull attention in, see what the field is offering us. And yes, I said us. You know these abs are a great wingman.” @hermanosgeckhoe

[of-invisible-ties]

I’ve been grinding the Tempest Trials for a bit, and here are a few tips I’ve come up with! I’ve placed this under a cut due to length. If this helped you, feel free to reblog!

In general 

Horse Emblem is really good here! In the previous TT, horse teams were a little screwed thanks to all the terrain and the emphasis on fliers as bonus units. In this TT, we’ve got half of the bonus units being cavaliers, and wide-open terrain for them to take advantage of. In fact, the boss is tailor-made for horse units, because he’s an armor unit, lacks Distant Counter, and can be safely kited by mage cavs. 

The reward unit, Titania, is the third red mage cavalier in the game. Her two competitors are 5*-locked, meaning that a lot of players will have her as their only option. It helps that her statline and skills are solid, and she’s really budget friendly to build. In addition, she has the triangle advantage over the TT boss, Greil, and comes with an innate Triangle Adept. It’s actually a benefit to keep it on her if Greil’s giving you trouble. 

ALWAYS pack a red unit with you, because Greil will always be waiting on the final map. Because you can skirt around him (ie. attack him and move the attacker out of his range), you’re not screwed if you lose your red unit before his map. You just have to be careful he doesn’t spook you with Armor March. 

Dancers, while helpful, aren’t a must here. I’ve done all my grinding without dancers, and it’s possible thanks to the wide-open terrain. In the previous TT, I felt screwed without dancers because of how closed off the maps were, but this one is much kinder in that regard. Just make sure you have enough movement-based assist skills (at least two in your team), and you should be okay. 

As always, passive healers are a godsend here. Anyone with the Renewal + Ardent Sacrifice combo will suffice, with Falchion-users, herons, Tiki, and Arvis being recommended. I’ve experimented with giving Renewal to tanky units (like Merric, who has good defense, and NY Takumi, who’s a decent mage-killer), and it’s worked well for me. I’ve also given Renewal + Ardent Sacrifice to Female Grima, and it’s very helpful on her because she doubles as a ranged check in addition to being a passive healer.  Honestly, if you can give it to a unit who can still tank with the loss of the HP, and aren’t in dire need of their B-skill or meeting HP threshold conditions, you should be good. 

Tactics teams work well here if you’re up for them! Because armors have bad movement and we have two armored bonus units, it’s good if you can pair them with a Guidance flier. You can also experiment with Aerobatics if you go for this. 

Building around the bonus units!

Mia: I was lucky enough to pull a +spd/-def Mia ages ago. Honestly, a standard Fury/Life and Death + Desperation build works wonders for her. Because she’s an infantry unit and depends on her special, I highly recommend pairing her with Infantry Pulse users. Her specials are explosive thanks to her decent attack and her weapon’s effect. I feel like if you do run her, you will want a dancer. Mia is very frail and will need help escaping enemy range. She synergizes best with an aggressive playstyle and other player phase units. 

Ike (Young Mercenary): He’s sadly outclassed by his Legendary self, who we all got for free. Still, he can function with a Quick Reposite set and can check daggers and archers. The sad truth is that most mages, other than some green mages, will threaten him despite his Distant Counter weapon. As for his teammates, you really want at least one mage-killer on his team. Ike has synergy in that he can handle physical threats outside of lance-users --- so giving him an axe-user and a mage-killer is a must. 

Valentine’s Titania, Soren, and Mist: Since they’re all mage cavaliers with the same weapon, I’m lumping them together so I don’t repeat myself. Basically, you want to use the Attack/Speed Bond seal we got in the previous TT. All three of them can run it well -- especially Soren, who has an innate bond skill. Because of Mist’s Swift Sparrow, you can run this TT’s Darting Blow instead (you can also run this with Titania if you want, although her low attack can make her miss getting kills). Obviously, their full power comes out with a horse team, especially with a defensive core that prefers to stick together. Most horses do prefer to be offensive due to their range, though. Being offensive means separating more often than not. If that’s your preferred playstyle, you can still use their weapons because chances are you’ll have to retreat with your assist skills anyway (which means they’ll be huddling together during the enemy phase, and their weapons and bond skills can help you during the enemy phase). I’ve seen people replace their weapons with blade tomes, so if you prefer blade tomes to their weapons, that’s a very real option. If you’d prefer not to run horse emblem, tactics are your best friend, seeing as we have three units with tactic refines (both Robins and Seth), and two tactic seals (Res and Def Tactic). 

Greil: I’d replace Fury 4 just for the TT. It’s okay to run in Arena or other modes, but the TT is based around longevity, and Fury 4 actively works against that. I’d suggest replacing it with Steady Stance (4* Silas), Sturdy Stance (4* Halloween Dorcas), or, if you lack those skills Attack+3 or Defense+3. If you plan on running Fury 4 after the TT, you may as well slap on the latter two. Steady and Sturdy Stance can be useful for other budget builds. Otherwise, Greil is good to go! Run him with any armor unit you want to get the most out of Armor March. I don’t recommend running a full armor team unless you have Armor Eirika, because armors otherwise lack innate healing outside of a fighter skill combined with Aether. Even then, armors are completely dependent on positioning and Armor March to move fast. If separated from his allies, Greil not only loses the benefits of Armor March, but also his weapon’s effect. For better efficiency, I recommend running him with a flier (preferably with Guidance), especially a flier healer or Eir. Running a tactic team can really help with speeding up the pace, especially since less turns gives you more points. 

Valentine’s Ike:  The above points I made with Greil apply to him, too. Armors are slow and getting sped up by fliers with Guidance is very helpful for them. I have no tips to give for Ike’s builds, though. He comes with a downright perfect base kit. Unless you want to run Barrier Blade+ on him, you really should just stick to what he has. 

[brokemultidotexe]

Unexpected Pt.22

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: You never expected your trip to Seoul to end up like it does. You didn’t expect to step off the plane and have coffee pour down your shirt. You also didn’t expect the guy to offer to show you around the city. You notice things about him that don’t quite make sense, like how he shows interest but will only see you when he has the time which is at random hours during the day and night. Who knew your only friend in Seoul would turn out to be an international star and just how difficult things could get.

Word Count: 3k

Warning: None

Genre: Romance/Friendship

Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 6.5 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 10.5 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 14.5 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 22.5 [final]

Song Suggestion: Let Go - BTS (thanks to @mrsbluesmize226 for the suggestion) 

Your stomach had been in a knot since yesterday. Telling JK no hadn’t been easy and you weren’t quite sure what to expect but you hadn’t expected him to take you home and refuse to answer you or take your calls for two days. You’d ended up crying yourself to sleep the night before and figured you were done trying to be understanding and that you were going to go over there and force him to talk to you. You didn’t want him to think it was because you didn’t want him, because that wasn’t the case at all. You figured your best bet was to text Jimin and see if he could tell you when they’d be home. Jimin sent you back a timeframe of when they would be at the apartment and you decided to drive over and put this issue to rest between the two of you. You were terrified of him hating you and if he did hate you then you at least wanted him to tell you that to your face because the not knowing was killing you and you now knew how he felt when you said you had needed time after finding out he was an idol.

You text Jimin when your car got through the gate with the temporary password he gave you. He said that he’d meet you down in the lobby. Your heart was hammering in your chest with every step and you felt extremely queasy. You saw him standing against the wall scrolling through his phone. You stepped inside and greeted him softly. Jimin looked confused but sympathetic as well.

“What happened between you two?” was the first question that came out of his mouth.

You sighed, “He told me that Bang said I could come on tour with you guys when you do the American leg of your tour and I told him no.” Jimin seemed shocked at your answer which confused you.

“Why? What is JK saying?”

“Nothing. He literally shows up and does the work he has to and then goes home and goes to his room. We figured something happened with you two but didn’t want to get involved and seeing how you look right now tells me that it had to do with both of you because you look just as bad as he does….no offense.” He let a second pass before he pulled you in for a hug before letting. “But this explains a lot.”

After talking briefly about why you said no Jimin took you with him and headed back upstairs to their apartment. Jimin hated your decision but he also understood that it was your decision to make and that JK was probably hurt because your first instinct wasn’t to drop everything and go with him. By the time you reached their door, you felt like you were going to be sick. You stopped abruptly, “I don’t think I can do this. I don’t want to hear that he hates me Jimin.”

He looked at you like you had three heads, “Hate you? Why would you think that he hates you? Y/N Jungkook loves you and I honestly can’t think of a single thing you could ever do that would make him hate you.” He put his hand on your shoulder, “Just talk to him, if you need me I’ll be in the living room so you guys can have privacy. I text the other members and told them to not come home until I text them so you guys can have more privacy instead of having six other people in the apartment.”

“Thanks, Jimin.” He nodded and opened the door. He pointed down the hall towards JK’s room and you nodded your head while Jimin put his keys down and walked into the living room. You took a deep breath and shook out your hands as your nerves were taking over and causing you to fidget. His door was shut and you could hear music coming from behind the door. It felt like it took forever for you to get your courage up to knock on his door but eventually your knuckles rapped against the wood and slowly opened the door and looked around it seeing him sitting in his computer chair messing with his phone.

“Ah, so your phone does work.” It probably wasn’t the best way to start the conversation since it was very passive aggressive but you felt frustrated. His head popped up and he looked at you but didn’t say anything. “Are you really going to ignore me? You didn’t even let me explain JK.” You leaned against the door frame too nervous to get any closer.

He tossed his phone onto his desk and leaned back in his chair, “Explain? Okay then explain to me how you could tell me almost every day how awful it was going to be to be without me and then tell me no when a solution arises to that very problem. I’ve been trying to figure it out Y/N but I can’t.”

“It IS going to be awful without you and I wish that you weren’t going but I’ve told you from the very beginning that I would eventually have to go back to America. JK, I’ve literally depleted my life savings staying out here as long as I did because I only expected to stay for a month yet here I am five months later all because I wasn’t ready to leave you. My whole life is back in America and coming to this decision wasn’t easy, so please stop thinking that.”

“you didn’t even take a chance to think about possibly going.”

“You can’t expect me to drop my life for you JK. I’ve been trying to figure out for months what I was going to do and once you got your departure day finally scheduled I had already planned on buying a plane ticket home. I’ve already paid last months rent and told the landlord to just keep it furnished and she can rent it out that way.”

It looked like he’d been punched in the stomach because it was like all the air had left his lungs, “So you decided months ago that you were going home. Is that why you refused to have this conversation with me when I would actually try?” he looked at you for answers. “Well, it seems like you already had everything figured out and ready to go. I’m not even sure why I put off asking you to come for days because I was nervous, because it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway.”

“Stop.” You glared at him. “Don’t act like this has been such a simple decision for me JK. It was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make but what do you expect me to do?”

“Come on tour with me!”

“That’s only for a month that you’ll be in America, do you really expect me to wait around in Korea for the months before and after that? You aren’t the center of my life JK!” You were starting to get frustrated with him. His inability to see it any other way but the way he wanted drove you crazy.

“Do you love me?” the question startled you.

“JK you can’t just—”

“Do you love me, yes or no?” he cut you off and his stare was intense waiting for your answer.

“JK this isn’t going to make it better.”

“Y/N...just answer the damn question.” He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“You know I do.” You were barely able to get the words out. Admitting it out loud while in a tense discussion with him was not the way you wanted to discuss how you felt about him out loud for the first time in detail.

“Then why won’t you even try?”

“A multitude of reasons, the fact that I would still have to pay for my apartment in Seoul if I did—”

“I’ll pay the rent.”

“Hell no.” You looked at him like he was crazy, “I’m not letting you pay for a single thing.”

“Are you fucking joking?”

“You can’t just buy your way into me coming on tour with you Jungkook!”

“Oh, so we’re going full name now?”

You tugged at the roots of your hair in frustration. “Do you have any idea how immature you’re being right now?”

“I’m immature? At least I’m willing to fight for something I want instead of running from it with a lame fucking excuse of going back to America. You’ve told me you love it here and that you’d love to live here but when the time comes to actually get serious about something you run the first chance you get. Just like when you found out about me being an idol, but I’m the one that’s immature? Right…” At this point, JK’s voice had gone from firm to yelling.

The door opened but you barely even noticed, “Jungkook you need to go for a walk.”

“Hyung this doesn’t concern you.” JK didn’t take his eyes off you as his chest heaved with pent-up emotion. Neither of you looking at Jimin who had entered the room.

“Jungkook go for a walk or I’ll remove you myself. You need to calm down before you say something you regret.” It was only then that JK’s eyes left yours and the both of you looked at Jimin. You had never seen Jimin’s face look so intimidating. You were used to the soft and joyful Jimin, but that person was gone and in its place was someone who you believed could pretty easily remove Jungkook if it came to it. Your mind was reeling trying to figure out how the hell the two of you got to this point. You had come to try and smooth things over but instead, you had only made things worse. The two of them stood there and stared at each other. Without even glancing back at you your eyes followed JK as he walked out and a few moments later you heard the front door slam.

“Y/N…” you looked at Jimin and he looked worried, “are you okay?” it was only then that you realized that you were shaking. The whole situation had you completely shaken and you felt like you were in your own personal hell and there was no way out. “He doesn’t hate you, you know.”

You gave a pathetic half laugh, “Yeah, I can tell.”

“Hey.” He put his hand on your shoulder getting you to look him in the eyes, “He doesn’t. This is the first time he’s ever let himself fully feel for anyone and while it does make his emotions more intense and can cause things to blow up, it means that there’s nothing in this world that could make him hate you.”

“You sure about that?” your voice quivered unexpectedly and the tiny second of instability in your voice has caused tears to start to pool in your eyes.

Jimin pulled you into a hug, “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

“I don’t want to lose him Jimin.” You mumbled into his shoulder.

“You won’t Y/N, he’s just not thinking clearly right now. He’ll calm down.” Jimin patted your back and you pulled away and wiped at the over spilled tears. “you guys can talk through this once he calms down and maybe you two can come up with an agreement that you are both happy with. You guys are so good together and I don’t see this tearing you apart.”

It was like your chest had been cracked open and a sob wracked through your chest. You knew loving him would hurt and you knew it couldn’t last but giving him up was too hard and now you were having to live through the heartbreak that you knew was inevitable. “I don’t want to hurt him Jimin, I told him this would happen and we still continued. It’s killing me knowing that I’m hurting him but if I don’t leave this will only hurt worse later on down the road.” You were furiously wiping at the tears that continued to trail down your cheeks. “I don’t want to love him.” Your voice cracked and Jimin quickly swept you into a bone-crushing hug.

The pain in your chest was even worse than you could have imagined when it came to the heartbreak you knew you would endure when you had to leave. It was the most painful thing you’ve ever felt in your life and there was no escaping it. Jimin didn’t try and console you with words instead he let you cry and held you tightly like he knew that if he let you go that you might literally fall apart. After what felt like hours Jimin finally spoke, “You don’t have to make a decision now Y/N.”

You pulled back and shook your head, “My flight leaves tomorrow. You guys leave for tour in three days and I couldn’t handle being in Korea without him so I got an earlier flight.” You could see the exact moment that the realization hit Jimin that there was no meeting in the middle with JK, that you were actually going home and it had already been set in motion. “He’s already so mad at me and he’ll be even madder if he knows I’ve already bought the tickets.”

Jimin drug his hand down his face as he processed the new information. “You have to tell him Y/N.” You nodded your head because you knew what he was saying was true. With everything, the two of you had been through you knew it would be wrong to not tell him and you couldn’t do that to him. You wanted to work things out so you could get that closure from him but you weren’t sure if you could get that anymore. Jimin pulled out his phone and dialed a number before putting it up to his ear. He sighed when he saw JK’s phone buzzing on his desk. “He’ll come back once he cools off, do you want to stay until he does?”

You felt torn but nodded because you really wanted to talk to him before you had to go back and finish packing your bags. You let out a shaky breath, “Is it okay if I just wait in here? I don’t want to be around anyone…no off—”

“It’s okay, I get it. You don’t have to explain. Just come to get me if you need anything, yeah?” You nodded and Jimin gave you a sad smile before leaving you by yourself in JK’s room. You sat in his computer chair and leaned back while taking in his room. All his hobbies littered around his desk, the few things of yours that had accumulated over the week of you staying. You ran your finger over the picture he had of the two of you stuck to his monitor. It was a picture from your date at the arcade and you could see true happiness shining through. Your chest ached with the thought of making him lose that smile.

After a few hours, Jimin came to check on you and he said he had text the other members and they’re trying to find JK and asked if you knew of any places but all the places you mentioned had already been checked. You felt anxious at the thought of not being able to see him again before you left. Maybe he really did hate you for leaving. Jimin left you to yourself and you realized that you needed to do something in case you didn’t get to see him again before you had to leave. It had already been six hours and he hadn’t come back to their apartment and without his phone, there was no way for anyone to find him.

After the eight hour mark, you realized that you couldn’t put off going home any longer so you did the only thing you could think of. You grabbed the nearest blank piece of paper and a pen and wrote down all the things you had wanted to say to him. By the time you finished the letter you were wiping your tears away, you hoped that the letter would help him and that maybe in some way it would give you the closure you needed. If the letter made him believe, even if it was only a little, that it wasn’t his fault then you would gladly go through the pain of losing him because he was the most important thing.

You folded the letter and pinned it under his keyboard where his phone was and left his bedroom. You gave all of the members a hug and apologized for everything that you had caused for them. None of them were mad and all were sad to see you go, but most understood after Jimin explained in a little more detail on what was going on and why. You left and as soon as you closed their front door you felt hollow in your chest. It was like there was so much pain at closing the door to that part of your life that you become numb.

You had just finished packing up and giving the boxes to your landlord so she could ship them home for you as a thank you for leaving all the furnishing in the apartment. Jackson had agreed to take you to the airport for your early flight and the car ride was long and quiet. It was only at the security check that you broke down crying and hugged him. You both promised to keep in touch and seeing him look so crushed over you leaving only added to the mounting pain in your chest. The final goodbye had been the hardest and it took everything you had not to look back as you made it through security.

Once on board the flight you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Your emotions were unstable and once the plane was in the air the silent tears fell as your heart stayed in Seoul and you headed home.

AN: okay okay okay, pleaseeee don’t hate me. Remember that this is a Part 1 of a series and there WILL be a part 2 coming out at some point in the future. There is going to be a JK POV .5 chapter that will follow this i just don’t know if you want it right after this or not. This chapter was really hard to write because it didn’t come out how i wanted it to but i think it’s because its the last chapter and nothing will seem ‘goog enough’ but i hope that you feel it was good enough and i hope that the .5 chapter gives you a little more closure. Once that is posted i’m going to do a Q&A for anyone that has any questions about the story that maybe didn’t get answered