#before wondering if that’s actually true

[lizardkingeliot]

Hoooo boy okay let's do this. 2x06 was a goddamn doozy, you guys. There was a very strong theme here throughout the episode of makers and fledglings being able to feel one another through their shared blood even when they can't read each other's minds. Louis says he can feel Madeleine is out of town because she is his fledgling. Likewise, Madeleine calls out the fact that she can feel Louis after acknowledging she can't read his mind. But there's something else happening here too....

She looks to Armand. Says she can feel Louis' love for him through their blood. Then calls out the fact that... Louis won't tell him? Only... Louis HAS told Armand "I love you". That was a pretty important element of 2x04. The casual way he said it with the vision of Lestat laughing at the bedside all the while. The one Louis actually couldn't say it to...

Was Lestat. We all remember, but just in case anyone forgot...

But what does Madeleine ascribe this feeling to? Why does she think she can FEEL Louis loving Armand? Because of the blood they share. The blood they share that comes from Lestat. The blood Claudia didn't want Madeleine to have BECAUSE it's Lestat's. The episode did a really great job of reminding us about the blood bonds and just what it means to have a connection to your maker. And when that maker is also your lover..... hoooooo boy.........

Anyway. The love. The blood. The bond with your maker. I can understand why Madeleine would be confused about the love Louis is feeling. She sees Louis with Armand. She assumes they're in love. She doesn't realize...

Her maker is sitting there thinking about his own maker the entire time. To the point he almost quotes him word for word before he stops himself...

And of course he's thinking about Lestat. He's just become a maker himself. Why WOULDN'T he be thinking about Lestat? Even after saying goodbye to Dreamstat, he can't get Lestat out of his mind. Even after becoming a shadow of who he used to be. Someone cold and distant. He's trying so hard, but it's never going to work. He's never going to be able to shove Lestat away completely. And he's certainly never going to be capable of loving Armand in the way Armand desperately wants Louis to love him. Because while Armand might say he belongs to Louis. If you ask Louis if he belongs to Armand, well...

And honestly... I feel so horrible for Armand here. Because there's nothing he could have done that would have made this particular outcome any different. He never stood a chance. Louis and Lestat are bonded not only in their blood but in their hearts and their souls. Lestat was not only Louis' maker but the love of his life. His first love. The first man he ever allowed himself true intimacy with. The one he shared a coffin with. The one he shares a heart with. Louis is trying so hard to be who he was before Lestat, someone closed off and cold. But he cannot sever the bond in their blood and in their hearts with all the coldness in the world...

Which leads me to wonder... did the love Madeleine detect in Louis not only have to do with his blood bond with Lestat/the fact that he was thinking about Lestat the whole time, but also the fact that Lestat was already in Paris? Could Louis feel it? Was he aware of feeling that innate connection but was so determined to make himself a hardened shell of who he once was that he just brushed it of? Thought it was residual grief? Is that why his visions of Lestat before he banished him in 2x04 were so vivid? Because Lestat was in Paris for years, and despite not really knowing that, Louis felt it all the same?

Anyway. Moving on. Circling back to Armand and Louis and the topic of love. When they're discussing Armand not being aware of what Santiago was truly up to, Armand blames being distracted on being in love and Louis just... outright scoffs at the idea?

We sure are a long way from "meet the vampire Armand, the love of my life" territory this deep into season 2, that's for sure. And sure, in Dubai Louis is feeling bitter and doesn't trust Armand for many reasons this particular post aren't about. But even looking back on it, on the time that should have been their honeymoon phase before it all went to shit, Louis just... doesn't see love there. Or at least not being In Love. Because the only one Louis was in love with in Paris was his maker. The one he was bonded to in blood.

And the one he's about to have to sit on a stage with next week and never once be permitted to touch. Never once be permitted a moment of truth with. But the bond is still going to be there. They'll still feel each other's hearts, beating as one with their shared blood. And we have to assume after that... they just never see each other again after Paris? And just thinking on that point alone... it truly is no wonder Louis is still so unwell in Dubai. Locked away in his tower that is his prison that is his forgetting. I wasn't sure I believed Armand when he said Louis asked him to take the memory of San Francisco away from him. But I think I actually do? It makes sense. That he would want to forget something like that. And it also makes me wonder...

What else did Louis want to forget? And how much of that forgetting is related to this agonizing, unbreakable blood bond he shares with Lestat? I truly have no clue how far they're going to take this, so I guess we'll just have to wait to find out...

[stardustbuck]

there’s a legit reason i don’t/didn’t like marisol or natalia as LI for eddie and buck. it’s because kristin reidel shoved them into these relationships rather than actually built them up and made them interesting, connected them to the plot, and lastly because she is known to have hated bvddie. these LI’s were thrown together poorly, we don’t feel particularly connected to these characters, none of them have ties to the show besides being brought in as a LI which tim minear has literally said is smth that’s very hard to do, bringing in a new character simply to be a LI that is. which is true, when you’re seasons deep into a show and you have characters people love and adore it’s very hard to just bring in someone simply to be that characters romance and have nothing else to do with the plot in the show. hen and karen are established from the beginning, we grow with them. maddie is buck’s sister and works for dispatch. athena and bobby are well loved separately before they’re eventually put together at the end of s1. hell, even taylor was able to be integrated into the plot very well via her job (even if it didn’t work out in the end)

neither marisol and natalia have ties to the general plot of the show outside of simply being brought in as a romantic interest. which in itself it fine, but with a show like 911 it’s hard to make an audience connect and feel for a character that does not experience the things our main cast deals with.

so when you bring in a character like tommy for buck (which was out of pure coincidence that he ended up being buck’s LI) who was previously in the 118, is friends with chim, hen and bobby, is in the same line of work (athena & maddie adjacent) is written to be shown he is well liked among buck’s friends (and ofc buck as well) and who risks his life and job to help save people that buck loves, it’s no wonder why people immediately fell in love with this ship.

the substance is there. the potential for so much more lies ahead with buck and tommy. they have the potential to have henren, madney and bathena like moments.

as for eddie, i think he deserves to find romance in his own time and when he’s ready (im a bucktommy endgamer ofc but if that just so happens to bvddie then that’s that) not because he feels he needs to and with marisol he felt he needed to because of all of the blind dates he was being put through to “find someone” and “get over shannon”

overall, i think they hit a goldmine with bucktommy and i can only hope that eddie may one day get the same.

[bokutone]

˗ˏˋ REALIZING THEY FELL IN LOVE ˎˊ˗

including: iwaizumi hajime, kageyama tobio, atsumu miya, akaashi keiji. genre/warnings: just fluff. a/n: voilà!! i rewatched hq and i'm in my feels.

iwaizumi — he was quick to notice it and to say it. it was after a long day at work; he came home feeling tired with his shoulders and back aching, you noticed his state almost immediately, the fake smile on his face didn’t reach his eyes and the way his body moved didn’t match the energy of his voice. you sent him to the bathroom, almost pushing him to the room and urged him to take a warm bath with the promise of joining him later. 

when he had you in his arms while you babbled about your day, he said it. the warmth of your body against him, the way your hands played with his fingers and how you tried to distract him from his work were enough to fill his heart with love, the impulsive way the words left his mouth didn’t startle you how he thought. you turned your face with a bright smile plastered on your face and said i love you back so quickly that he wondered how long you were waiting to say it. 

kageyama — he's hyper-aware of the feeling. he can't pinpoint exactly when it started, but it probably was when he saw how carefully you listened to his explanation about volleyball and how happy you looked when he offered to teach you how to play. your smile was huge, and the way your eyes shined when he praised you after the not-so-bad spike you did was everything. he doesn't know what to do, should he tell you? do you love him too? even though he's very straightforward with his comments sometimes, he's careful about them when they're related to you. the relationship is a little awkward after that, and when you confront him about it, he tells you so abruptly that neither of you can see what's happening until the words are said.

atsumu — he didn’t know it until you said “i love you” first. he’s clueless about his own feelings for a while, not sure if what he feels is true love or just the comfort that having you in his life brings him (he’s a little dumb, but cute). 

it was probably when he accidentally eavesdropped on your conversation with your friend a few weeks later that he realized that it’s love and not other feelings that make his heart go faster when you laugh and hug him. it hit him hard though, listening to your low voice mumbling that you’re not sure if he loves you is the last thing that he wants to hear. and so, the next thing you hear before the response of your friend is atsumu screaming that he loves you so much that you’ll be going to end up getting bored of him. 

akaashi — he wasn’t shocked when realized he fell in love with you, he was actually relieved because all those thoughts swimming in his mind finally started to make sense. but he’s nervous, he’s an overthinker, and suddenly his pretty head was filled with the idea that maybe you don’t love him back. 

he’s distant for a couple of days, you have no idea of what is happening because he doesn’t have the courage to talk to you about it, akaashi doesn’t know how to admit he’s in love with you without considering that maybe, but just maybe, you already know that he’s in love because you are too. 

rbs and comments are really appreciated!

[griefninja]

I think I get why there is such a divide between D&D only people and D&D is the worst game ever people. People have joked about "they aren't ttrpg fans, they're D&D fans," before, but I think that's legit true. D&D is used to scratch a different part of the brain than most ttrpgs. D&D is like Among Us or Lethal Company. Is isn't necessarily a fan game to play on it's own by yourself. It's a lobby, a physics engine, that you and your friends can use to facilitate spending time together and make jokes. It can also be a vehicle for youtubers to entertain you by using it as a vehicle for entertain. That's the purpose of those youtube videos like "this build let's you deal 10,000 damage turn one at level 3," and "melt your DM's mind with the the game breaking mechanics of rope!" That's NOT meant to be taken seriously. It's ment to be a joke you and your buddies laugh at. In the same way that showing everyone in the lethal company lobby the game breaking glitch you saw a video about is meant to be funny. This way that D&D is used in practice is extremely different from other systems that aren't trying to make a physics engine for jokes. They're trying to make a system for generating a good story. They see those D&D videos and wonder "what are they thinking trying to tell a narratively satisfying story with bad mechanics like that?" The answer is they're not doing that at all, actually! If it is possible for a "D&D Killer" to exist, it's not going to be a game that focuses on narrative, like other systems. It's gonna be a physics engine joke machine, like D&D. I think this is what Brennan Lee Mulligan was trying to say in that interview when he said he "likes D&D as a combat simulator, because he and his friends are already trained improv performers that can make their own story. It's not that he's just a dumb dumb who doesn't understand ttrpgs. It's that he finds a physic engine type system easy to just exist in and make up whatever narrative his friend's want in. Homebrewing cyberpunk technology or hyper detailed sex mechanics in D&D sounds idiotic to someone who plays specific ttrpgs for specific narratives, but to someone who mods lethal company to have a super Mario sunshine world where you get chased around by Hatsune Miku monsters it makes perfect sense to take the thing you like and to push it to ridiculous extremes.

[ghuleh-recs]

@st-danger is your favorite ghoul writer's favorite ghoul writer and it was their birthday yesterday! I've compiled a list of some of my favorite Saint fics to celebrate. Beyond being an incredible writer, Saint is such a wonderfully supportive member of the fandom here. They always leave a kind word (or sexy addition lbr) in the tags. You know that meme that's like 'I sure hope this doesn't awaken something in me?' That's how I experience most of their fics. So thank you Saint for sharing your writing with us. I don't know that the fandom needed more reasons to be horny but here we are. Go leave Saint some comments and hit up their ko-fi for some birthday appreciation!

recs under the super cute divider from @forlorn-crows

Terrors of the Night - dewdrop/dewdrop - E, 13.5k

“Hi,” he says, to himself. Dew is not by nature a timid or shy thing. He has always been a healthy mix of piss and vinegar. Acerbic wit and energy, and thoughtful tenderness in the right circumstances. A sharp tongue but a gentle touch. Fearful or nervous are not descriptors to be used, nothing he’s ever been accused of…and yet, Dew goes cold and his hand tightens around the fistful of blanket as he pulls it closer to himself. An uncharacteristic movement performed by a hand not under his control. Dewdrop smiles at him, with light eyes and lighter hair, looking exactly how he used to. Or, The past comes back to haunt.

Copia, seeing the ghouls' faces - Copia & Everyone - G, <1k

He once heard Terzo describe looking at Omega's true face as "confusing". He never asked any follow up questions to clarify that statement, but he's always wondered if confusing meant strange to look at, or strange to look at because his human brain couldn't figure out exactly what it was looking at, in an Eldritch horror kind of way. If hellspawn are naturally just beyond what mortal minds can know. "Are you sure?" Copia asks, though his hands are already reaching towards Aether's face. "You want me to see you?" "We want you to know us," Aether replies simply, and carefully, so carefully, Copia slides off Aether's mask, like the metal might turn out to be sugar and splinter and break if he isn't gentle.

Steadfast Love, Not Sacrifice - Aether/Copia/Dewdrop - E, 11k

It’s a bit like a shark smelling blood, he thinks as they follow close behind. It's natural they were going to want to taste it, too. “Well,” Copia says, “some of us need our beauty sleep.” He hesitates, and then proceeds to look nervously between the two of them and continue, “I meant me, of course. You two are already very, erm. I should go to bed.” It’s such a flimsy excuse. The elevator reaches the third floor before any of them speak again. Aether clears his throat. “You don’t want to though.” Copia looks very called out, but can’t do much more than stare, before realizing the two ghouls beside him are waiting for an actual answer of some kind. The elevator beeps as it passes the fourth floor. “No,” Copia says slowly, and Aether’s stomach does a little swoop. “I don’t.” Or, Sometimes the reward is worth the risk.

[REC] - Dewdrop/Swiss - E, 1.8k

“Have you thought about Aether watching you like this before?” “Not before you mentioned taking photos.” Swiss stands and Dew watches through narrowed eyes as he spreads Dew’s legs to stand between them, and reaches down to unclip the garter from his left leg. He strokes along the top of the lace teasingly and then begins to work it down Dew’s thigh, pushing his leg up to roll it down and off his calf, his toes. “Let me blindfold you,” he says by way of explanation. (don't miss the sequel 1080P !)

Self Control Takes The City - Terzo/Omega - E, 5.6k

Omega can be endlessly patient. He has existed, in some form, for an unfathomable length of time. Above Ground, years upon years. In the Pit- well, there’s no way to say. No way to measure. But he has been for a very, very long time. He knows good things come to those who wait. Alas, patience is a virtue. Hellspawn such as himself surely couldn’t be found to be practicing that very often. There is, of course, a workaround; practicing said virtue during unvirtuous situations. For unvirtuous reasons. As the saying goes, the devil’s in the details. Or, Omega gives until it hurts.

Hybrid Slinky - Dewdrop/Swiss - E, 2.8k

“It got deep,” Rain says, voice quiet and a little husky, and he brings Dew’s hand higher, closer to his mouth. “Let me clean you up?” Dew’s mind goes blank for a moment, before catching up to what Rain’s suggesting, and he feels a frisson of excitement zig-zag its way down his spine. “Yeah,” he grins. “Go ahead and make Papa proud.” _ Dewdrop cuts his finger, Rain and Aether kiss it better, as you do.

Worship, Bow Down - Dewdrop/Sister Imperator - E, 3.4k

“All work and no play’s turned you cruel,” Dew laments, and rises. Places his palms on the heavy desk and leans in, shower-damp hair in a curtain over his shoulders. “Could sweeten you back up. If you wanted.” Imperator takes a quick breath in. “Office hours are over,” she says. “Lock the door.” “Did that on the way in.” He has the cheek to wink. He trails his fingers over the wood as he walks around to her, loving the way her eyes follow him, up until he stands behind her, rests those elegant hands on her shoulders and gives them a little squeeze. “Feeling tingly yet?” Or, the road is fun, but coming home is, too.

Quintessence Control - Aether/Aeon/Dewdrop - E, 1.1k

"Didn't you say you wanted to show me a little something?" Aeon wiggles his fingers and Dew goes still. Against his neck, Aether places a wet, sucking kiss. "Okay?" he whispers against Dew's skin, fingertips stroking over his temple, down the side of his face. "Cool if we play?" Dew chokes out a yes, and Aether takes a slow, deep breath and bleeds magick into him, tangling himself between every neuron in his brain. (You should also read this one actually)

Stoned Edging - Aeon/Swiss - E, 1.4k

"Unholy shit," Aeon breathes, sounding delighted and fucked-out, trying to steady the rise and fall of his chest. "How many are we at now?" Swiss doesn't know. Too many times, and they're both far too high to remember the count. Their little game of how bad they can make it for each other relies on two things: one, the shared love of an exquisite, particular sort of misery, and two, how much of Mountain's greenhouse stash they can get away with pilfering. It's something the others don't have the patience for. Not the way they do, at least. They're over the top with it. Unnecessary. It's delicious.

Run Rabbit Run - Rain/Swiss - E, 17.5k

“I want you to show me just how important he is,” Swiss says and Rain doesn’t understand, dazed with the slow slide and massage of lips against his while he speaks. His brain is fogged up, useless. “Will you do that for me, sweetheart?” “How?” The hands on his face remain, though Swiss once again leans away in order to look at him properly, wearing that serene smile that says he knows more than Rain ever will. Or, The hunter strikes it rich.

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

Did I forget your favorite? You've got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ♡

[queerweewoo]

“Eddie, you do know that I'm—that I'm yours, right?” Buck's eyes are holding Eddie's gaze like the fate of the world is suddenly at stake. “I mean, I'm yours for whatever you want, y’know? ‘Cause there is nobody else in my life that is... that's you, as in what you are to me, for me, and I'm—I just want you to know that I wanna be that person for you, too; need you to know that I am that person, and that I can be whatever else it is you might need me to be. Or maybe want me to be.” Eddie feels like all the oxygen has suddenly been sucked right out of his kitchen. “You—you get that, don't you, Eds?” 

Christopher once wondered out loud about which beast from the animal kingdom, other than human, would represent each of the three of them and their different personalities, and when Eddie had thought about Buck he'd pictured excitable Golden Retrievers and bounding Dalmatian puppies just as much as the next guy. But the proxy creature he'd been more sure of—and more hesitant to admit likening Buck to—was the Hummingbird, with its astonishingly strong heart that beats at something like nine-hundred times per minute (which Eddie knows about because Buck told him, of course).

Eddie has never known anybody quite like Evan Buckley, with his supercharged and forever-bleeding heart that's pinned so earnestly and so prominently to his shirt sleeve that Eddie's sure it's sometimes visible to the naked eye.

Bar his son, Buck is the greatest person Eddie's ever met.

They weren't always what they are now, though, Buck and him. Not back at the very start. But somehow, one day, somewhere along the line, they just—were.

They became Eddie and Buck. Buck and Eddie.

And this… something, that's simmering between them, it's a thing Eddie couldn't put his finger on for the longest time, couldn't quite make out whenever he attempted to look at it, trying to parse it out and see it for what it really was. It's an emotion he hadn't thought he'd be able to describe, even if he'd wanted to. A brand new feeling for Eddie's collection that he felt forming in the space behind his ribcage, something that bursts forth whenever Eddie looks over to Buck on the job, or at weekends when they take Christopher for days out at the park or the zoo, or whenever Eddie thinks about Buck when Buck's not around. Buck: this long-legged, loyal to a fault smiling guy who has become the best friend Eddie has ever had. Hell, he just feels it all the time. Invisible yet almost tangible, this unnamed something first sprouted like a sapling the day the two of them dug a live fragmentation grenade out of that retired third-grade teacher's thigh, springing up and growing branches that get bigger every day, reaching outward towards the sun to bathe in its warm rays, seeking out life. It grew within Eddie, and it's still growing, spreading out through every part of his life, now, not with the speed or ferocity of a wildfire but a thing similar to climbing roses; slow and steady, delicate yet hardy and strong.

Its true nature has always been just a little to the left of Eddie's range of understanding, though, an almost ethereal thing just slightly out of his reach. For a while, he hadn't dared to examine it all that carefully, or at all. Hadn't known how to, honestly. He now thinks that talking to Frank and embarking on his journey to figure out Who Am I?—trying to find out who Edmundo Diaz is as a person—was probably the start of him working out what this ever-expanding something between him and Buck actually is. 

Eddie came to the conclusion pretty quickly after that, that Evan Buckley, this kind-hearted, wide open, supremely loving giant puppy dog of a person with the heart of a Hummingbird, has become his person. Before Eddie even had the opportunity to notice that their relationship had started to change and morph into something different than what it was at the start, Buck had simply become his partner. In all ways, seemingly. Not just at work, but in life. And Eddie—well. Eddie realised at some point that he was somehow, amazingly, now apparently one hundred percent Buck's person, too. 

The only other soul Eddie has ever gotten close to in that way was Shannon, and sadly everything about their relationship had been so profoundly situational. Eddie thought he'd needed a girlfriend in high school, and Shannon was so, so lovely and had wanted to be that person for Eddie. Then Christopher had unexpectedly come along when they were both still so young, and they'd got married because that was the right thing to do, what Eddie thought he was supposed to do. He then ran away scared, by enlisting, and his life ended up spinning out of control and heading someplace he wasn't old enough to have even imagined, a life he'd somehow acquired and felt he had zero control over.

Not that he'd change any of it. There was happiness in the love he and Shannon had for each other, even if it hadn't quite been the right kind of love, and they'd made a beautiful baby together, a beautiful boy. And after coming home to Christopher after his last tour, at long last, Eddie knew he wouldn't, couldn't, be without that kid ever again.

Christopher was and is the one true shining light in Eddie Diaz's messed up life. 

Until Buck. 

Eddie and Buck, they have chosen each other as partners. And as parents, too—that's the truth of it. And they've gotten so close to each other in such a quiet, gentle way that Eddie hadn't been able to see the wood for the trees, it seems, hadn't realised their dynamic had shifted quite as significantly as it has over the years. Infinitesimally, then bit by bit, but so vastly and so dramatically at the same time.

He and Buck are together. All of the time. Because they choose to be. Because it just feels so damn right for them to be that way.  Together, they are what Eddie believes partners are supposed to be.

At some point it had dawned on Eddie that the two of them, he and Buck, had moved beyond just friends and into… that something. Something else. It had just happened so softly and so seamlessly, and with such unprecedented ease, that even after he'd clocked it, he hadn't really thought to question it because it happily became a thing that just was.

Yeah, Buck and Eddie just kind of... are.

Eddie also doesn't know when exactly it was that the grounding touches they so often share became increasingly more frequent, more important to Eddie, and then softer and more lingering, warm and comforting and completely different to the way either of them touches anybody else, Eddie thinks. Buck has been Eddie's person for what feels like forever, but Eddie started to find more recently that this thing in his chest that is constantly reaching out for Buck, this bond, this something special that they share, it was becoming something that pines and wants and needs, something fragile but at the same time something unerringly and amazingly steadfast.

Like the Hummingbird.

They're an immovable thing, Eddie and Buck. They're Buck and Eddie. They're Eddie and Christopher and Buck. And the three of them, together, are the one thing in Eddie's life that is so assuredly grounding, and so real, that Eddie often feels his chest might burst right open with the force of it.

Together, they've become more.

Eddie learned that when you find your way to that person—your person, the one who makes you feel like even when everything really isn't okay, you having that feeling is okay as long as they are here, with you—it's an unwavering thing, an absolute thing. 

The real thing. 

Eddie looks across his kitchen table at Buck, his Buck, right here and right now, and realises that this something between them is the thing that all those poets throughout the ages have been writing their sonnets about. 

Sunshine. Wildfire. Climbing roses. 

This something—this person, Eddie's person, Eddie's Buck—is standing in front of Eddie, having taken root in Eddie's chest while wearing his Hummingbird heart on his sleeve and offering Eddie a share in his sunshine world.

This something; it's a thing called love. 

Maybe Eddie got there first. Maybe Buck did. Maybe it dawned on them both at the same time, but Eddie knows that they both know it now, he knows it with the way all of Buck's love is radiating out of his body and flowing into Eddie's, like a shared life-force or magic or some cosmic shit Eddie knows he doesn't really need to comprehend. 

I'm yours, Buck told him moments ago.

Eddie takes a breath, and begins.

“I'm yours, too, Buck. All yours. It's you and me, man. Together. You and me and Christopher, because I know just how much you love him...” and he doesn't dare add what is the hopefully implied ‘too’ at the end of his declaration, but only because he doesn't know how to say it out loud, just yet. 

Until he very much does, barely a second into Buck nodding and beaming like Texas sunshine and saying, “You do get it,” and Eddie knows absolutely that he can say it, now.

So he does.

“Yeah, Buck. I do. Because I love you, mi Colibrí. I love you.”

Buck surges, becoming that wildfire as he rounds Eddie's kitchen table, their table, and Eddie stands to meet him, his Buck, his unstoppable force, his best friend, his heart, and Eddie's chair is clattering to the floor as they grab onto each other, big handfuls of shirts and arms and faces and napes of necks, gripping tightly and hanging on for dear life because maybe the fate of the world, their world, really is at stake after all. 

Yet stood here in Eddie's kitchen, together, holding each other, Eddie somehow knows they both understand that their world can't actually be tipped on its axis so easily, not by injuries or natural disasters or even The Great Unknown. Buck and Eddie can't be shaken so hard they come apart at their seams because like everything else in their lives, they're in this together.

Eddie and Buck, Buck and Eddie. They'll figure this thing out.

Together. 

Buck is standing so close that Eddie can feel warm breath on his cheeks, a definite panting that mirrors Eddie's, both their chests now heaving with the air that's crackling between them, eyes roaming all over each other's faces and then Buck's baby blue's settle on Eddie's mouth and Eddie's follow suit, and he's amazed at just how pink Buck's lips are this close up and all he can comprehend in this moment is that he doesn't think he's ever wanted a person so much in his entire fucking life, has never felt the pull of want and need and home as strongly as he does right here and right now, for his best friend. His partner. His Colibrí. 

His Buck.

“Buck, I want—” Eddie's yearning is so loud he can't even finish his sentence. 

“Me too,” Buck helps, and he's leaning in a little further, tentatively and so damn slowly that Eddie wants to scream at him to get on with it but also wants to freeze-frame them in amber because this is the moment that he knows, really knows; the moment Eddie has been trying to uncover; the rose bush and its branches, the fire, the sunshine; the moment Eddie finally understands what it is that he feels for this man now in his arms, knows exactly what their something is and what it was all along; the moment Eddie has been unknowingly and unbelievably hoping, hoping, hoping would arrive someday.

Today, Eddie thinks, and he can't wait any longer so he kisses Buck and Buck kisses him back and Eddie knows, then, inherently, that Buck loves him, too. 

[END]

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

inspired by and a tribute to one of the loveliest fics i've ever read: OF HUSHED WORDS AND HUMMINGBIRDS by the hugely talented procannibals on ao3... you should absolutely click the link to go read it and show it all the love it deserves! btw the themes of hummingbirds as a metaphor, plus eddie's question of 'who am i?` here belong entirely to mo (procannibals) and the fic linked that i've just mentioned.

this is also on ao3 HERE (published as 'Today') if you'd like to be so kind to pop across there and leave me a comment xp

[cbrownjc]

Hi, Fun question I had while waiting for episode 6

Do you think Lestat, Daniel, Armand and Louis would like the twilight movies? Why and to which character would they relate the most?

Have a nice day!

Hi!

Well, first I should admit to you that I don't like Twilight. I've always disliked it since I read the first book before the first movie even came out. (And that is the only book in the series I've read BTW, though I have seen all 4 films -- only the first one in theaters though). So I actually don't know how objective I can be about this question . . . but I'll try. 🤔

And oh, you know what? I think Anne Rice herself commented on what Lestat and Louis thought about Twilight in a Facebook post back in the day, even though I don't have a copy of it. Which probably has a nicer reaction to it than I would give them about it. Or, at least what their book versions think about the series.

But I'm assuming you asking about the show versions of the characters and what they think, and with that? Well --! 😈

IMO, Lestat, and Louis both would find the whole movie series mostly hilarious IMO, just like they did Nosferatu. I can also see Lestat needling Louis a little bit wrt the whole "Bella has visions of Edward" thing if Lestat knows about Louis having visions of him during his first few years in Paris, and Louis being annoyed by that and insisting it was a totally different thing when it came to him -- given that, for one he was an actual vampire at the time unlike her and "vampire bond" and all of that -- and he is nothing like Bella Swann thank you! Anyway, Lestat saves most of his snark and laughter for The Volturi however because, as far as a coven that is supposed to be the head of the vampire world, how ineffective are they!?

Louis is also the only one out of the four who's even bothered to read all of the books in the series, even the most recent ones like Midnight Sun. He thinks they are less funny than the movies, but that's more because he didn't have Lestat in his ear making comments or laughing along with him as he read them. And hey, he can admit he does relate to the "not wanting to eat humans" thing of the Cullens though, sadly, the way that works in their world doesn't in the real one. 😔 Louis also knows that if Jasper Hale was real, he would purposefully antagonize the hell out of him on sight for that Confederate Army stuff (because if you think the issue of slavery wouldn't come up at some point --!)

Armand, being the true cinephile of the group would, IMO, find the films terrible just as films. And he thinks Bill Condon fell off as a director once he did that series, which is sad because Condon's Gods and Monsters is a film he greatly likes. However, he couldn't help but wonder if Stephenie Meyer was used by some ancient vampire -- via the Mind Gift -- to write this series of stories for the mortal world that gets so much of real vampire lore so very wrong on purpose (he read the first book and that was enough); and that maybe she was used by some ancient vampires to do so to hide something from the mortal world about something that was going on in the actual vampire world at the time. He looked into that idea very much at the time and, even though he didn't find anything, he still looks into it on occasion from time to time still, years later. But look, as far as the main story itself goes, Armand gets Edward not wanting to turn Bella. He just thinks Edward went about it all wrong. And he lowkey also gets Jacob obsessing over Bella too -- but he doesn't want to look at why he does too much.

Daniel was forced to watch all 4 movies with his younger daughter -- one of the few things as a deadbeat dad he did do with her when she would spend time with him after the divorce. (Same reason he's seen all the Harry Potter movies as well.) He thinks they're okay -- not the best thing he's ever seen, but not the worst. And he weirdly understands Bella's obsession with Edward for some reason -- he even feels a kind of sympathy toward her about it, though he of course logically knows she should just get over it because it would be the healthier thing to do.

If you are a fan of the Twilight series I hope you weren't too offended by this answer to the question. Because yeah, I can't pretend to like that series, and so my answer was going to have the characters snarking and critiquing it in some way, if not just mostly indifferent about it (in the case of Daniel).

[pomefioredove]

"I'll do anything for a woman with a knife"--THIS IS SO ROOK IM SCREAMING!!! If you would kindly for the requests???

I SEE THE VISION

summary: "I'll do anything for a beauté with a knife" type of post: short fic characters: rook additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, Rook being cute actually a part of this event

"Give it back!"

You lunge at him again, and, as each time before, he avoids you with grace.

He even grabs your wrist and pulls you upright before you can go crashing into the wall. A perfect gentleman.

"Chérie, you wound me!" Rook chimes, holding the black-bound book far above your head. "I only came to return something so clearly precious to you!"

You narrow your eyes at him. "Then give it back,"

Rook is quiet for a moment, those ever-familiar piercing green eyes glancing between you, then the book. Then you again, then the book.

"...No,"

You swing at him, and he ducks under your arm.

"You must forgive me!" he says, backing towards the kitchen door. "But my curiosité has been piqued, and now I simply must know the contents of the book you so fiercely defend!"

He may act romantic, but he's really no less of a jerk than any of the other boys here.

"Give it!"

You follow him around the Ramshackle kitchen, jumping in a vain attempt to snatch it out of his hand.

It's useless; he's holding the book up to the ceiling as if presenting it to the heavens themselves.

"A diary? A journal? A beloved sketchbook, perhaps?" Rook wonders aloud, reading your name off the front again. "Ooh, I must know what secrets this beauty contains..."

You back to a corner of the decrepit kitchen, pulling a worn-down knife out of a drawer. It's too dull to do any damage, but he doesn't know that. Probably.

"Hand it over," you demand, waving the knife around like a madman.

Rook pauses, eyes shining with a new interest. He seems to forget all about the book, setting it on the table and approaching with his hands folded behind his back.

"Ah, mon Trickster, how clever," he says, smiling wide. "I'll do anything for a beauté with a knife."

As annoyed as you are, you let him come closer. He grabs the hand holding the dull instrument and clicks his tongue.

"Ah, you are wielding it all wrong! Come here," Rook chides, standing behind you and guiding your arms.

"Stand like this for balance. Oui, like that, and hold the knife like this..." his warm breath hits the back of your neck as he tweaks the position of your fingers.

"Perfect. Une beauté!" he says, finally stepping back. "But, this particular knife is much too dull to defend yourself in a true attack."

"Hmm... very well, I will lend you one of my hunting knives until I can purchase you one of your own! Bonsoir, Trickster!"

He beams, waving as he leaves you bewildered in the kitchen.

[hazbinshusk]

Hello!! I hope you’re having a good day :3 I was wondering if ya got any jealous Husk headcanons? :0 I’m in dire need of jealous Husk..

I've never really done a headcanons post before, so I can't guarantee that I'll actually produce anything decent here, but...

Husk isn’t the kind of person to make his jealousy your problem – he’s more than aware that how he’s feeling is on him, not on you.

This is especially true if the two of you aren’t even together.

Sure, he gets jealous… territorial, even, but he’s also a gentleman.

But that’s not going to stop him from being protective over you and immediately taking an intense dislike towards anyone he thinks is getting a little too close to you.

Like, he could be completely cordial while serving them at the start of the night, but if sees them crowding your personal space, get ready for the personality switch the next time they approach the bar.

It usually takes quite a lot for him to get jealous – he was born and raised in Vegas and after spending so much time around the dancing girls at the casinos and watching fellow bartenders flirt for tips, he can tell the difference between someone who has a chance and someone you’re playing to your benefit.

Still, this doesn't stop him from watching them and watching you predatorily, his tail switching back and forth behind him as he studies every expression you make in reaction to them, every brief touch you share.

But for the most part, that's as far as it goes.

For the most part.

Sometimes... especially if the someone that's too close to you is someone he has issues with and he knows just how dangerous they are... like alastor or valentino, he won't be able to help himself, and he'll have to stake his claim on you.

He'll need to remind them exactly who you belong to.

If you want to read something with this premise (husk being jealous when you speak with alastor, read it here).

[one-idea]

I just realized that I misswrote something on the post the other day about the whitebeards assuming that fem ace was pregnant.

But it gave me another idea:

The whitebeards assuming that Ace and Deuce are married due to their antics.

(Mainly because of Deuce having that fond and kind of gleeful expression whenever ace destroys things and them sleeping together all the time)

Listen!!!! Everyone knows Deuce is in love with Ace. There is no secret there.

No if we are staying in the Whitebread mistaking Ace for being pregnant after she meets Sabo again (see post here)

Deuce is being super sweet and supportive. He’s trying his best (along with the other spades) to shut down any rumors about their former captain.

Until one day he goes to drop of Ace’s dinner and he tries to talking to her again. “You know I’m always here for you. No matter what. I know we’re on a new crew but you will always be my captain and I will always be YOUR 1st mate. I will be by our side no matter what.” Deuce trying to be comforting even though Ace hasn’t looked at him in weeks.

Ace, who has spent the past month think about her brother what was supposed dead for years only to be alive and forgotten their bond. Questioning if she’s even worth remembering. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Even the strongest bonds fade over time. No matter how strong they were or how much they promised.”

Deuce, for the first time wondering if the rumors are true and his best friend/crush did fall in love and get pregnant only to be abandoned. What else could make her feel this way? She always believed in her bonds with people. Her younger sibling Luffy being the most important. And as far as Deuce knew Luffy was fine. “bonds might change but my loyalty to you never will. If you need me I’ll be there. No matter what.”

Ace actually turns to look at him. She’s crying again and she wants so badly not to cry anymore but Sabo is alive and wants nothing to do with her and it’s been so long since she’s felt this worthless. “Stay with me?”

Deuce stays. They’re not doing anything just taking and sleeping. But the rumor mill goes crazy. People talking about how Deuce finally got the girl. How he’s stepping up for Ace and they’re proud of him. Some wonder if it was a lovers spat all along.

But some a ruder about it. And one poor soul, probably Teach because he sucks. Says something about Deuce being so pathetically in love that he’d take a ruined woman and her bastard. Deuce hears it and it’s the first time he’s ever punched a crew mate before. Not because of what they said about him but because of the disrespect and latent sexism towards Ace. (Who again is not pregnant)

Whitebeard is big stressed. He’s got so many rumors flying. A possible grandchild on the way. A possible father as a revolutionary to hunt down. And one of his doctors just broke his hand from punching another one of his son’s in the face. (He proud once the whole story is explained but why him)

When Sabo shows up everyone one of the gossipers is ready for a show down only to be slack jawed because 1) that’s Ace’s brother! 2) she’s not pregnant!

And somehow Deuce and Marcos get roped in (Ace asked them) to giving Sabo a full exam (he was just tackled to the ground) main to insure he’s memories are all right.

Once again quite a confusing day for all.

On the other hand if we’re talking about another story entirely when fem Ace and Deuce are assumed to be married.

The Whitebeard’s are the biggest gossips. You do not have a crew that big that’s all “family” and not get into each others business.

And deuce is so obviously in love with his formal captain. He watches he burn down enemies (a terrifying thing to witness) like it’s a work of art. He is warm to her and goes out of his way to make sure they still see each other as much as possible.

But Ace does to. Their stand offish little sister is warm to her former crew in general but it’s obvious that Deuce is special. She goes out of her way to see him. Even hang out in the infirmary when he can’t leave. A place most commanders avoid like the plague.

The two used to share a room on their old ship and it’s not uncommon for Deuce to spend the night in Ace’s quarters now.

All the Whitebeard’s think they’re married. Heck most of the Spades think they’re married. It’s only the original crew that knows they’re not. They don’t correct anyone because they have so many bets on when the two idiots will actually get together and refuse to have any of these idiots speed up their time tables.

It isn’t until Ace is hanging out with the other commanders on night and Izou asks Ace if she’d like to invite her husband to join them. (They wouldn’t mind him joining them, sure it’s normally commanders only but they can make an exception for the only married pair.)

Ace looks are him supper confused, but before she can speak Marco does. “My fault. I scheduled Deuce to work tonight so I could join you. Next time I’ll put someone else in charge.” He directs the second point to Ace almost as if he’s apologizing for incovining her.

Now Ace is very confused because “I’m not married to Deuce.”

“You’re not!” They all yell at once before looking between each other.

“Do you want to be?” Thatch asked and Ace started sputtering. And that’s it. The commanders are looking between each other. It’s game on. You ever gets Ace and Deuce together wins.

Once Ace leaves they establish rules. They can have help from their divisions. So if one of the nurses convinces Deuce to propose then Marco wins. What do they win. Being Whitebeard’s current favorite. He’s not a man who ranks his children but he was there for the whole conversation. If Ace and Deuce aren’t married and decide to get married guess who is marrying them! Thats right Whitebeard. He’s pumped. The winner gets unofficial title of favorite plus a week off.

The game is on.

Meanwhile Ace is now looking at Deuce completely differently. She had never thought of him in that light before but now… her whole world view has shifted.

She’s trying to navigate this monumental shift while getting pushed into increasingly crazy scenarios with Deuce.

Meanwhile Deuce has always known he had a crush on her. He knew Ace didn’t see him that way so he had decided to ignore it and be friends. Ace’s friendship was enough. But now Ace is acting weird around him and they keep getting stuck together and the nurse and doctors have started telling him how cute they would be together and he feels like he’s losing his mind a bit. It’s not going to happen and he’s okay with that.

It’s a lot of shenanigans

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.131 Waiting for the world to change

It was the perfect day for swimming, and I'm glad Mama suggested we all take a dip. Alessia dressed for the occasion but never actually got into the water. She just stomped around the backyard, cursing Jace's name and screaming. Hopefully, all the neighbors were at work. I rather enjoyed the brief diversion from violent thoughts. Even though Less and I had fun plotting Jace's demise, I didn't enjoy feeling so unhinged. Sophia always enjoyed the water, so I didn't have to wonder how she was. My parents, though... Well, they were...interesting. I was used to Mama being all googly-eyed around Dad, but the interesting part was how smiley he was around her. What she had done to Dwayne still frustrated me, and I wished she would choose one way or the other and accept the consequences. Choose Dwayne and leave Dad alone, or confess her feelings to Dad and cut off Dwayne for good. All that straddling the fence she did really pissed me off. These men weren't toys she could play with one day and throw in the attic the next. I didn't doubt that things were complicated like she said; being in love with two men couldn't have been easy. But this had gone on for much too long, and she needed to be mature about it and choose! Dwayne's absence spoke volumes, and she didn't talk about him anymore, so maybe he beat her to the punch and chose for her. Good for him, if that was true. Based on how she'd been eyeing Dad lately, I'd say it might be.

We had as much summer water fun as we could before our skin wrinkled and headed back inside. All day, we waited around for something to happen, but not one contraction came. Eventually, Dad got tired and went home. Naturally, Mama told him he could stay there, but he insisted on going home. Sophia needed to eat and didn't want to skip out on our date, so we also left and went down the street to Viviana's, so if something happened we could get back quickly. Mama told us not to rush and said she'd call us as soon as the labor started.

Even though I had plans, I was kind of glad we got a chance to eat there again. I was feeling nosy and wanted to know if Sophia had been right about Yasmine being pregnant. She probably wanted to know as well. I looked around as soon as we arrived but didn't see her. Maybe she was on maternity leave. Oddly enough, they seated us at a different table for the first time. True, it was right next to our usual table, but still. Since everything was free, I made sure to order the most expensive steak they had. My sweet Sophia order bangers and mash.

"What?" she asked when she caught me eyeing her suspiciously. "Who can resist free mashed potatoes??"

I freakin' LOVE this woman.

[ikamigami]

I watched Amanda the Adventurer sams gameplay..

And we can clearly see that Sun isn't doing okay.. which isn't surprising at all considering that Puppet and Foxy are trying to force him to agree on killing Moon..

Sun thinks that he's useless because he doesn't know how to help Moon, how to stop him so he wouldn't have to be killed..

We could see that when Sun said that he doesn't know anything useful or useless..

We can also see that Sun once again is thinking about dying.. expressing his passive suicidality..

We could see that when Sun said that he wants for the monster to kill him.. he said that almost at the end of the episode..

Also the way he said that no matter what option he'll choose he'll die seems pretty ominous.. he said that when he was wondering if he should exit the library or watch the second tape..

And before anyone will say that this is far fetched they hinted Sun's odd behaviour before killing Bloodmoon when they played previous Amanda the Adventurer game..

To me it seems that Sun will die and it seems that it might be on his own will..

Before anyone jump at me let me clarify.. I don't know how Sun will die.. even if I said that it'll be on his own will it doesn't immediately mean that he'll kill himself by his own hands.. he can just let someone kill him or even try to protect Moon by shielding him with his own body.. but it'd be still Sun's decision to die.. it'd still be on his own will..

Sun is in poor mental state.. in my opinion he was even before but now it got worse because of the situation with Moon..

But I just think that Sun doesn't realize that himself.. he doesn't see that his mental state is worsening..

I can only hope that things won't get bad but I think that they will..

And also like I said already even if Sun continue living for his family and that he doesn't want to leave them.. he's still struggling with delusions which may push him to take his own life.. doesn't matter directly or indirectly.. Sun suffers from depressive psychosis and he's struggling with delusions centered around guilt and unworthiness.. and because of that he's at great risk of attempting suicide.. doesn't matter if passively or actively..

Delusions are a real danger for someone who experience them.. so it doesn't matter if a person who struggles with them doesn't want to die.. because if there's a higher risk that they'll attempt suicide when in delusional state.. and this is what I mean that Sun may attempt suicide..

I know that many of you don't know what I mean because most of you never experienced such delusions.. but I did.. even not so long ago I was in really poor mental state and I experienced vivid suicidal thoughts.. even if I didn't actually want to die.. it still was very overwhelming and I was scared and I had thoughts that maybe I should kill myself if I'm such an awful person.. a nuisance for everyone.. because in my mind I caused harm to everyone..

People who say that when someone is passively suicidal we don't have to worry that they attempt suicide but it's not true.. not true at all.. the line between passive and active suicidal thoughts or ideations is blurry.. at one point someone can have passive suicidal ideation and in the other active suicidal ideation.. and we can't be sure that they'll act on them.. they're still at risk.. we shouldn't ignore anyone who experience suicidal thoughts no matter passive or active..

I'm more aware of my own symptoms so even if I'm afraid when I have these thoughts or ideations I still know that I don't want to die and I can try to shift focus on something else and try to get through this..

But when someone isn't as much aware like Sun.. it's not that easy to just simply realize "yes, this is caused by my delusions so I need to get through this and it'll be okay".. when you're not aware that you're struggling with delusions it's hard to get through it.. and when you're also depressed it's even harder to just withstand these suicidal thoughts and ideations fuelled by depressive thoughts and delusions..

Hope that this helps a little bit for you to understand what I mean when I say that Sun may attempt suicide..

[bestworstcase]

I was reading your wonderful RWBY posts and I just had a random thought: The relics attract the grimm but why? What would the grimm even do if they get the relics? Salem doesn't control every single grimm ever all over the world (even if, I think, the popular fanon interpretation is that the grimm go for the relics for Salem)

So in a hypothetical scenario of a relic "falling into" the hands of grimm, what would happen? Are the grimm attracted to the relics like they're attracted to humans? For food/Aura? Or are they attracted to the relics for a different reason? The relics potentially being a sounds of "food" for Grimm just feels interesting to me, related to Aura and Souls in some way or something. Also if the Grimm aren't attracted to the relics like they are attracted to humans/Aura, what sort of reason do they have for the relic attraction?

Of course the theory that the relic or the relic spirits are the current form of the God of Darkness after he ascended makes it so that the Grimm seem to recognize and feel that the relics have their creator's power in it, but I'm really curious about what sorts of scenarios you could come up with on this because my brain is fixated on this right now and I wonder what the Grimm would actually DO with a relic or multiple relics?

we-ell we’ve actually seen a relic fall into the hands of some grimm, albeit quite briefly. at brunswick farm, ruby startles and drops the lamp because she sees the flash of an apathy’s eyes looking up from the bottom of the well, right, and then a minute or two later the girls all jump down and there’s no grimm and no lamp.

blake suggests that the "current" may have carried the lamp away, but that obviously isn’t the case (the water is less than ankle deep and the lamp, made of metal and glass, doesn’t float; she’s just under the apathy influence which is, i imagine, degrading her ability to think clearly).

what actually happened is the apathy grabbed the lamp and BOOKED IT to rejoin the rest of its pack around the corner, and then they put the lamp down in the muck where its glow would be just visible to the humans in the main thoroughfare, and waited there.

<- the apathy, uh, used it as bait.

here’s two other facts that i chew on a lot with regard to the relics and the possibility of darkness having ascended a la the dragon divided and what the apathy do:

grimm cannot be held in captivity, because if they don’t break free, they die.

when bartleby separated two apathy from the pack and lured them into the waterway, the rest of the pack followed and crawled into the waterway to find their missing packmates rather than attack the farmers.

(the pack then also spent the night in the waterway, which contrasts their apparent behavior in the present—we see them trying to get up into the house through the wine cellar—so it seems to me that the pack just wasn’t hunting at the time it went into the waterway. otherwise they would have found their missing packmates and crawled right back out to eat the farmers in their sleep. but the waterway probably seemed pretty comfy and safe to them before they got bricked up inside of it? nice place to make a nest.)

anyways if the spirits in the relics were once the god of darkness… and the spirits are, as the chains and shackles imply, imprisoned inside the relics… and grimm die in captivity… and the grimm are also, as the apathy pack’s behavior demonstrates, intelligent social creatures who will actively follow and try to rescue captured individuals… well!

whatever the apathy intended to do with the lamp got interrupted by the girls dropping into the waterway, but their use of it as bait demonstrates intelligence—recognition that the lamp is desirable to the humans, forethought to use it as a lure—so if i’m on target with regard to what/who the spirits are (which, ozpin: "i think it has something to do with their origin, but i’m not entirely sure" <- i am of the opinion that this is a true statement and also hilarious foreshadowing), then.

prying the relics apart in an attempt to free the spirits trapped inside would be my guess. it tracks with both the behavior we see from the apathy pack and with grimm being destructive in nature and the true purpose of destruction as a catalyst for change/growth – and a grimm that doesn’t die in captivity is a grimm which destroyed its cage, yeah?

if the spirits aren’t what darkness became… i would bet anything the attraction is emotional. because the spirits inside are human in nature—they have feelings, and neither jinn nor ambrosius seem best pleased to by the rules that bind them. so it’s like. extremely possible that to a grimm, the relics are literally just searing beacons of misery and that’s what’s getting their attention. like grimm puzzle feeders

[heygerald]

Falling Without a Harness - Chapter 6

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. When he actually starts to behave like a normal person, Parker is left to wonder if it's an act, or if the rest of him is.

Read the story here: prev / ...

"Tom," Parker hedged ten minutes later, as the teams took their places in the arena. She was currently standing in the middle of everything, watching as her teammates discussed strategy, pointing to various platforms and inflatable shields whilst the white team did the same. She was relieved that Dan was on her team; his general height and demeanor boded well for engaging in (paint) warfare. Tom, on the other hand, didn't seem all that interested in anything as he fiddled with his phone. "Er, you've played paintball before right?"

He shrugged. "A few times, yeah."

"Right," she let out a breath of relief. "I'm going to follow you around then."

That caught his attention, and he glanced up from his phone screen with a frown. "What do you—no, don't do that."

"What? Why not?"

"Because you're a target," he said, matter-of-factly, and gestured to the paint already splattered down the front of her coveralls. "I'm not trying to end up looking like that."

"Wh—but—!" she blustered, popping a hip at him as she pointed out, "you're the one that shot me! And you don't look much better. And—I'm not a target anymore than you are. Don't be so sexist."

He scowled. "How is that being sexist?"

"You're just saying that because I'm the only girl on the team."

"No," he said, stooping down into her eyeline with an overly dramatic look on his face as he slowly and surely said, "I'm saying that because I'd bet you're awful at paintball, and Colt and the others are going to go for you first."

Parker's mouth dropped open as Tom tucked his phone away and started off towards a patch of haybales off to the far side.

It was a totally mean and unnecessary thing to say, and, worst of all, true. Parker sucked at paintball; sports in general. Colt knew this, as well as several of his friends that she had attempted to play beach volleyball with once, but there was no way that Tom knew that as well.

"Well, thanks for inviting me, Parker," she ranted, miming his deep voice as she followed after. "It's totally fun, I love it, you're too nice! That's what you should have said, by the way."

He cast her a dry look. "Are you done?"

She shot him a sour look, but...

Well, yeah, she was done. Rolling her eyes at him, she hefted her gun onto her shoulder, and leaned her back against the haybale. Her mask was still propped on the top of her head, coveralls only half zipped up as she languished. "Whatever. Do you really think you can shoot Colt?"

He arched a brow at her. "Is that really a question?"

"He's slippery."

"And an idiot. I'll shoot him."

"Do you ever get tired of having such a huge ego hanging over your shoulders or do you like the shade?"

Tom's only response was to roll his eyes and, at the sound of a warning whistle, pull his mask down over his face. He tensed, peering around the haybale as if this were serious, and—

Wait, hold on a minute. This was serious.

"Not to be that person," she chirped with a nervous glance towards the other team. "But if I were to be a target—"

The sound of a whistle blew loud, and within seconds paintballs started flying through the air. Parker shrieked, and plastered herself to the haybale.

Tom, now realizing he was stuck with a target at his side, sighed loud enough that she could hear it warbled through the mask. A flash of white as he rolled his eyes before, "for fuck's sake."

He pulled her mask down to cover her face before yanking her zipper the rest of the way up to her neck. Then, he shoved her gun against her chest.

"Just follow me."

"Oh," she breathed out, relieved. "Thanks."

"At least that way I can use you as a shield," he added, and the relief in her chest burst like a water balloon. Through her mask, Parker glared, and she was certain he could feel the heat of it. Another flash of white, another eyeroll as he slowly started ambling around the bale. "That was a joke."

Parker stood to her full height so she could properly jut her hip at him.

He, of course, ignored it.

But as the chit-chit-chit of paintballs flying overhead ramped up Parker was reminded that this was not the best place for judgement. She had already shot him once, after all, and if she stuck by his side perhaps she would get lucky enough to watch someone else shoot him as well.

When he disappeared around the corner she took a deep, calming breath and rushed after.

---

"Left."

"I know."

"Left!"

"I know!"

"Christ, fucking left!"

Parker paused in what she was doing, straightening to her full height so she could glare in exasperation at Tom, arms wide. "Do you want to do this?"

"I would, yeah," he responded with as much exasperation, though his wide eyes are hidden beneath his expensive sunglasses even though it was well into the evening now. "But it's still your turn!"

The pair are locked in a tense stare down when a third head pops into frame. Colt, his own eyes obscured by the overhang of his bucket hat, lifts his pointer finger with a meddling smile. "Not to rush you or anything—"

"Oh, shut up!" they both exploded at the same time, now turning their exasperation onto Colt.

It's uncanny how similar they look in that moment—wide eyes, frown lines, furrowed brows—and while Jodi stuffs her laughter into her half empty can of White Claw, Colt responds by lifting his palms up in front of him with years of practice placating his sister. "...yup, that's my bad."

Together, they face one another, preparing to go again.

Only for him to promptly ruin the silence to add, "all I'm saying is you just have to get it—"

"Tom, I swear to god!" she hissed, struggling to focus on two things at once. He hadn't stopped backseat coaching her since the game started, and though she desperately wants to win, every time he speak the temptation to aim at him got stronger. But that would help nothing.

Swallowing down that frustration, Parker realigned her arm up, returning to the half-crouched position she had been in earlier, and once more practiced her swing.

"Alright," he mutters under his breath, shrugging as if he didn't care. But it's obvious that he does care, and for that very reason, he continues, "but I just think you should aim a little further to the..."

Parker swings her arm forward, sending her last bag arching through the air. It flipped several times, twisting bottom over top, before hitting the board with a heavy thud, teetering on the precipice of the hole.

The four held their breaths, watching, waiting, hoping that—

The bag stopped teetering, and the crowd let go of their breaths.

"Ha!" Colt shouted, letting out a whoop that likely could have earned him a noise complaint. He threw his arms up in victory, and Parker and Tom watched in miserable silence—him, arms crossed, foot tapping; her pinching the bridge of her nose—as Colt raced across the beach and hefted Jodi up by the waist. "Winners! Winners! That's right everybody, win-ah-ers!"

"I told you to aim left," Tom muttered.

Parker dropped her hand to glance over at him.

She wasn't any happier about the loss—yet another one to add to their list of defeats over the evening—and the pair sported matching frowns as they were forced to watch her brother do a victory lap around the beach. Ever the graceful idiot, that one.

"I hate him," she said miserably.

Tom gave her an irritable side eye while shaking some overgrown fringe out of his eyes. "Well, if you had listened to me—"

"Oh, stuff it," Parker huffed, throwing up her arms. Colt had gotten halfway through his victory lap before his attention was stolen by Jean-Claude, and was now lying on his back as the dog licked him cleanly across the face. "You weren't any better than I was. I did all the hard work that round; sorry if I didn't get another three points."

Tom furrowed his brows crossly. "At least I hit someone during paintball," he snarked. He beat her to the retort by gesturing sourly to his own chest. "Someone that wasn't on your team."

"You still owe me five hundred bucks for that, you know."

"Sue me."

She narrowed her eyes at him, turning to face him fully, and though he towered over her quite a bit, she tried to not be intimidated. Easy enough when he still had blue paint in his hair. But, the standoff didn't last any longer than that; Parker was sore herself—both in spirit and body—after their paintball session, and her beer was getting disrespectfully low for a party.

So, she rolled her eyes with a huff. "You sure love lawsuits, don't you?" she chirped while making her way over towards the cooler.

It had been Dan's idea to have the afterparty on a small slice of beach on the edge of Hollywood acres; far enough away from the city to avoid the crowds, and close enough to everyone's houses that ubers or taxis wouldn't be too difficult to get. He had brought a few coolers of cheap beer, while a couple of the other guys had brought stuff to grill, and, though it certainly wasn't an expensive party, it was certainly a nice one.

Tom hadn't seemed all that convinced when they pulled up, of course, his standards being higher than everyone else's, but the longer they drank and ate, he seemed to loosen up a bit.

That is, until they lost yet another game. Parker would have blamed her shit aim on the drinking, but...

Well, she had always been better at smack talk than athletics.

"I love winning them, anyway," he said, following her.

Parker hummed while fishing out two beers. She cracked them both open, taking a long dredge of the first, before handing the second to Tom. "What is it like to be rich?" she mused.

He smirked at her. "It's pretty nice."

"Hm. I'm sure it is."

"Beats being poor."

"The servants and undying fans must be a plus."

"Well, they certainly don't hurt," he hedged, the corner of his mouth turning up after he took a sip of his beer.

She had noticed throughout their interactions that his mood seemed to be fluid; from pleased to bitchy in moments, always lingering on cagey indifference when no one was watching. As if he was always expecting some sort of criticism or veiled insult, and so he was always prepared to dish it out first. It was still baffling to her what his triggers were, but at the very least, he had seemed to be enjoying himself.

Mostly, anyway. Tom Ryder certainly was a sore loser.

"Not to say that I was the weak link on the black team earlier or anything, but I felt a little unprepared for how good everyone was today."

Tom pulled a face, scoffing. "You don't think you were the weak link?"

"Don't be an ass," she said, before tilting her head side to side in concession. "But, obviously. I'm not blind."

He smirked. "You sure? You were pretty awful for someone that talked so much trash. What happened to seal team six?"

"That was just a joke, obviously."

"You sounded pretty sure."

She rolled her eyes while plopping down onto an washed-up log. It was well into the evening now, and as the sun set on the horizon, a pair of Colt's friends were attempting to get a fire going.

"It was just some pre-game taunts," she told him, shifting as he sat down beside her—not before checking that the log wasn't going to stain his pants, first, of course—and Parker tried not to focus on how warm he seemed to be in the dying sunlight. "Everyone does it. You know, get the other team all jazzed up. I didn't mean it literally."

"You literally said, 'literally'," he deadpanned.

"Well—that's—that's just something people say!" she argued on her behalf. It wasn't at all convincing, however, and Tom arched a brow at her. Parker waved a hand at him, fighting back a snicker. "Whatever. Sorry I suck, but it wasn't just my fault. Jodi shot me right in the tit!"

He laughed. "Yeah, I saw that. It looked like it hurt."

"Eh. Nothing more than my ego."

"You still have one?"

She snorted into her beer, and gave Tom a half-hearted elbow to the ribcage. He didn't seem to notice as he laughed into his own beer, however, and Parker would have bet she did more damage to her own bones than she did to his. "Not as big as yours, obviously, but it does exist. Just, you know, it's probably on life support."

To that, he let out a true laugh, and Parker couldn't help but grin when he shook his head at her. "You and Colt, Jesus. I swear you say the stupidest shit."

"Maybe you should try it sometime."

"Saying stupid shit?" he deadpanned.

"Not taking yourself so seriously," she corrected, swallowing down another quarter of her beer. It was only her third, and despite the fact that she had work in the morning, Parker was quite determined to get drunk with her brother. Seavers' sibling traditions, and all that. "I mean, I know that you're in the media a lot, but you just seem so..."

Tom shot her a warning look. Both brows arched into his hairline. "So?"

"Practiced," she finished, mirroring his look with a mock one of her own. The adjective clearly surprised him, and Tom twisted away from her with a scoff. Down the beach, Colt and Jodi were standing with their feet in the tide, happy as all get out. "Which is crazy because some of the stuff you say is definitely going to get you cancelled one day by the working class, but most of the stuff you say just sounds like you're doing a bit interview with TMZ."

"You mean my job?"

"Oh, plgh," she blew a raspberry at him. "Whatever. I thought being a perk of being rich and famous meant you had immunity to say, or do, whatever you wanted."

"Whatever I want?" he drawled distastefully.

"Well, I mean, you treat people on set pretty awfully."

"I don't—"

"And you're always getting kicked out of clubs for partying too hard or being an ass or, actually," she frowned, frozen in thought, "I don't know how you get kicked out of a club, really. But I know you do. I've seen the, you know, tiktoks or whatever. Melissa's, not mine," she added quickly.

Tom finished his beer with a sour look. "You think anything about me gets put in the news that Gail doesn't allow to be there?"

Parker frowned. "I thought she was just your producer."

"Producer, manager, media agent," he listed off blithely, taking another long sip of his beer. When he finished it, he crushed the can in his hand, and stuffed it into the sand. "She handles everything for me. I think by now she has half of the news outlet in her pocket. Probably a good bit of Hollywood in general. Which, she should, given how much I fucking pay her. That's not even including movie revenues and bonuses."

"Oh," she said, not knowing what else to say.

Parker had known that Gail had helped Tom get his first big movie, and had stuck by his side since the beginning. But, in the way that Colt talked about it offhandedly, Parker had always assumed that Tom wanted Gail to be his producer because they were good friends. She hadn't ever assumed that their friendship was anything other than mutual, but if Gail Meyers really did control all aspects of Tom's life—professional and private—well... how mutual could that really be?

He had that look on his face again—brows furrowed, eyes downcast, jaw line clenched and shoulders tense—and Parker decided that any further questions she had about Gail could wait another day.

"Well, next year Colt is definitely getting a less violent birthday party," she said in a not-so-subtle change of conversation. Tom glanced at her sideways, and she forced something nonchalant into her tone. "Something that doesn't require any physical prowess. Maybe, a movie marathon or, like, a pool party."

He harrumphed. "Do you have a pool?"

"Hardy-har-har, no. I don't have a pool," she snarked. But, well, that was probably a good point. Parker turned to Tom in consideration. "Now, you wouldn't happen to have a pool at your—?"

"Don't even think about it."

"Oh, come on! I doubt you even use it."

"I use it plenty," he sniffed. Parker didn't give in so easily, however, and when she batted her eyelashes at him with a conniving smile, Tom shoved her lightly on the shoulder. She saw the smile he bit back. "You'll have to find someone else to host. I don't invite set hands to my house."

"See? That!" Parker laughed, pointing at him. "How have you not gotten cancelled yet when you say stuff like that?"

Tom, biting back a laugh, made a show of glancing around them at the empty space of sand. "Because I don't say stuff like that when I'm around people."

She remembered very clearly an offhand comment Jodi had made to her at drinks, about how Tom Ryder was a complete idiot when it came to wearing his microphone. "I beg to differ," she taunted.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Hmmm, nothing," she snickered, deciding to keep that particular piece of information to herself. Besides, she wouldn't put it past Tom to get Jodi in trouble for blabbing about him—nondisclosure agreements and all that. "Whatever. Maybe I'll take him to one of those fairs where you can learn how to do trapeze. I bet the daredevil would like that."

"He's certainly got the... flair of a gymnast," he said, and together they watched as Colt attempted to do cartwheels in the sand. He managed three in a row before popping up, grabbing the beer out of Jodi's hand, and shot gunning the entire thing. He finished with a dazzling grin. "Alright, that's not bad, I'll give him that."

Parker snorted dryly. "Less so when he throws up doing it."

Tom, not questioning how she knew that, grimaced. "That's disgusting."

"Oooh, is throwing up on a beach too low-bro for you, Mr. Fancy Bathroom?"

To that, Tom pointedly grabbed her beer, and finished half of it in a single go. When he shoved it back into her hand, he added drolly, "hilarious, as always."

Parker thought she was hilarious, and grinned as she took a small sip of her beer. Besides, he didn't seem all that put out by the joke. Rather, he seemed quite at ease sitting there with her on the beach, no phone in sight. Or she suspected so, anyway.

It was always hard to tell with him.

Musing, she asked, "what do you normally do for your birthday?"

"What do you think? Gail throws a party."

"Fun."

"Yeah, it usually is," he said. Parker could picture it; a glamorous mansion, decorated out in whatever pompous theme they had decided on that year, giant photos of his face plastered throughout the building, a string of scantily dressed woman drifting throughout. "Open bars, cocktail waitresses, DJ Aoki."

She rounded on him with wide eyes. "Wait, seriously?"

"Usually, yeah."

She swung her glance around to the beach, watching as Colt's friends laughed and played hacky-sack and threw a frisbee, all slightly drunk, and most with paint in their hair. It was an intimate party, with something easy going and happy electrifying the air, but...

Well, it certainly wasn't going to beat DJ Aoki.

"Alright," she conceded, rolling her eyes at the overly smug smirk he shot her. "That sounds pretty fun, I'll give you that."

"Better than this."

"Hey!" she exclaimed, half serious and half in amusement. "Jodi and I planned this for a while. Plus, this is exactly the type of thing that Colt would enjoy."

Tom made a face. "He certainly enjoyed shooting me."

"Oh, you noticed that, did you?"

"Hard not to," he groused. It was all to Parker's amusement, however, and while she tried to hide her laughter, she did a really bad job at it. "Oh, fuck off. You're lucky I don't have a photoshoot this week; I'm probably covered in welts. If I did, you can bet your ass that—"

"You'd sue me?" she taunted.

Tom's mouth ground together, obviously not having any retort, and in response she peeled forward in giggles.

"Fuck off," he said.

But, well, the longer that Parker laughed—beer quite clearly working its way through her system—the more the sour look he was wearing wore off. Until, eventually, the pair were giggling like teenagers.

"I totally could," he said anyway, if only just to re-insert himself as a rich asshole.

Parker hummed, still shaking in laughter, and leaned over to wiggle her brows at him conspiratorially. "Could, but... won't," she teased, cheeks well rosy red by now, and, honestly, she didn't even care. It was fun just joking around with him. "Some might even say that you're a big ole softie, Ryder. All talk, and no action."

"I'm serious," he said, and, well, he certainly looked serious as he bent towards her.

And while Parker probably should have focused on that fact—he absolutely could ruin her with a single lawsuit until she was desolate and on the street—but, now that the fire was going, her attention was stolen by the flickering light in the depths of his eyes. They were a lighter blue than she originally thought, not so icy as deep, and when set against the rich color of his skin and the blonde (natural, supposedly) hue of his hair....

Well—Tom Ryder wasn't just hot, he was breathtaking.

She knew she didn't look the same. She was rosy cheeked, covered in hues of green, white, and blue paint, smelling like paint lacquer and sweat, with the firelight surely darkening the already murky color of her eyes.

Still, she swore he leaned closer; swore his gaze swept over every bunch and inch of her skin as she did his.

It was odd, being that close to him, but nice too.

Nice and exciting and comforting and electric and—

"Oh, hey, there you are," Colt's voice, suspiciously chipper and high, interrupted them at the same time that his boots stepped over the log. He planted a hand on top of Parker's head to balance himself, the other not-so-subtly planting on Tom's shoulder, before plopping down into the few inches of log that separated them. Parker swatted his hand off of her head, while Tom smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt. "I've been looking everywhere for you guys, my buddies, my pals. What are we talking about over here?"

"Nosy older brothers," Parker snarked, giving him a what the hell? look when he smiled at her. "I thought you were with Jodi. Doing summersaults or something."

"Ah, she's good. That one, always—always good—but I thought I'd spend some more time with you. Plus, think I pulled something in the hamstring, you know. Can't let that happen, got to stay in tip top shape for this guy over here," he gestured to Tom with a thumb, awkward smile in place. "I feel like we never spend quality time together any more, Park. What have you been up to?"

"In the twenty minutes since our game finished?"

Colt laughed—a little too hard for a joke that wasn't at all funny—before swinging towards Tom. This time he jerked a thumb in her direction, saying, "she's so, so funny, you know. Loves to make jokes. Loves them. But, you know, you don't like jokes, so if she's bothering you—"

"I'm not bothering him," Parker huffed.

Tom's gaze jumped between the siblings. "Yeah, no, she's fine, man. Hasn't called me an asshole yet, so, that's probably a good sign."

Colt threw his head back with a laugh, clapping. "Ha! Right! Because the first time you met, she called you an asshole. A lot. Three times, I think. Which—super not cool. I know how you are about being called an asshole," he kept on going, a strong emphasis on the word as if Tom had forgotten. "So, sorry about her. I think I mentioned that she's actually adopted."

"Oh my god!" Parker whined, throwing her hands up in frustration. Colt didn't seem to notice, however, and he just barreled on.

"Did you get a beer?"

Tom blinked between brother and sister. "Uh, yeah man, I had a beer."

"Finished it?"

"Yeah."

"Great," he clapped his hands, grinning, before slinging an arm over Parker's shoulder. "Since you're done, you probably want another one, right? Well, I need one too, so, we'll go get that for you."

"Uh—"

"No problem! Two seconds! You just keep sitting there stunning, Tom. Like you always do on set! God, what a hunk," he rambled on in a single stream of consciousness, patting Tom far too hard on the shoulder despite their strained work-friendship. It stunned Tom, and while he only blinked at his shoulder in shock, Colt shot him some finger guns. "Don't sweat it, bro. We'll be back!"

Colt hauled Parker onto her feet before she could protest, and dragged her off in the direction of the cooler. Dan shot the pair an odd look, but upon noticing the glower she was wearing, wisely decided not to get involved. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

"Colt," she hissed, ripping herself away from him as he started digging through the cooler like a rat in a trashcan. She swatted his bucket hat. "What the hell was that?"

"You want a Bud or a Coors?"

"Colt!"

"Oh, I think this is the last Coors, so, sorry, all out of luck," he continued rambling, studiously avoiding the way she was glaring daggers into his back. "Man, we sure drank a lot of beer already."

"Colt!"

Colt stood to his full height, beer in each hand, and paused when he finally caught tailwind of her sour glare. "What?"

"Don't what me!" Parker snapped, gesturing wildly over her shoulder to the general direction of Tom, before crossing one arm over the other. "Brother? My man? What the hell was that?"

"Not sure," he whistled, popping the tab open to take a dramatic breath. "I think it's probably an expensive cologne, but it definitely smells a little off. Can cologne go bad?"

He offered the second beer over with a look of wide-eyed innocence, as if he had no idea why Parker would be upset. And, well, even though she was immune to his puppy-dog eyes and wobbly lip, not even Parker would shit on the sanctity of a birthday.

Snatching the beer out of his hand, she shoved a finger in his face, "I'll let it go this time," she warned. "But I swear to god if you pull something like that again..."

"Oh, what, you'll shoot me?" Colt mocked, before tapping his temple as if something had just occurred to him. "Oh, that's right! You can't hit anything. I think you actually shot yourself once today, Park, so, uh, you know—I'm not all that scared."

Parker stared, eye twitching, as her brother gave her a smug grin.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I think there's a nice little English lady just waiting for someone to—!"

Colt Seavers may have been a muscular guy that knew how to take a hit, but he went down surprisingly easy when his younger sister tackled him around the waist.

---

"Red."

"Black."

"Okay, then up."

"Mhmm, no," Colt shook his head, frowning beneath the fringe and bucket hat, as he shuffled three cards in his hand. He peered at them all with half-lidded eyes. "Down."

"King?"

Colt held up a card, turning it to face Parker with a drunk grin. "Ha!" he shouted, holding the card high above his head—as if to put it on show for everyone nearby—before he gave her matching middle fingers. "Drink up, loser!"

His sister whined. She did not, in any way, want to drink up.

But, the game was the game, and so she tipped her head all the way back, beer pointed toward the sky, and finished it in three, long swallows.

Then, she flopped back onto the beach with a loud, dying groan.

Among it all, Jodi leaned forward to snatch up the card that Colt had just abandoned. It was an ace of spades. With furrowed brows, she asked, "I'm sorry, but I don't quite understand how this game works."

"What do you mean?" Colt asked, peering over at her.

"Like, what are the rules?" she emphasized, a long sweeping gesture over the stack of cards, the two quarters off to the side, the ever-growing pile of empty beers, and then to the siblings.

The siblings that were now wearing matching looks of confusion.

"Rules?" Colt echoed with even more emphasis. His eyebrows were screwed up beneath the brim of his hat, and his eyes had a hazy layer over them.

"Oh, Christ," Tom rolled his eyes. He hadn't been interested in the slightest when the Seavers siblings proposed a round of playing, what they called, Calico In The Woods, but there hadn't been anything else to do than stoke the campfire, and so he had spent the last twenty-five minutes growing more and more confused by their nonsensical rules dictated almost definitely by who was the drunkest. "Is this even a real game?"

Parker, sprawled beside him, inched onto her elbows. "Of course it is," she said. The slight slur of her syllables wasn't exactly confidence bolstering, however. "I learned it at camp, like, ages ago."

"Camp?" Tom couldn't even imagine what sort of camp these two idiots would spend their summers at while growing up. "What sort of camp teaches this?"

Colt wagged a finger crookedly through the air. "Family camp, technically. All the relatives would meet up every summer and it was all tent poles and mosquitoes for seven straight days. It was more fun when we were still kids, didn't have to pay for anything, and just got shoved together with the cousins. Made for good drinking too."

"And they gave you beer when you were kids?" Jodi asked in bewilderment. She had been drinking steadily throughout the night as well, but whereas Colt sucked down drinks like it was his job, she had been slowly nursing her latest one for the last forty-five minutes.

"When we were—come on, Jodi, don't be ridiculous. Of course they didn't give us beer when we were kids. This is America, you know. We had to find it."

"And technically it was hooch," Parker interjected. It didn't surprise Tom in the least that they would have been drinking some garage-brewed hooch, and he flattened his brows at her accordingly. Parker only response was a careless laugh. "What? Not mine! Sam would always bring it. Or, steal it. Something like that."

Jodi giggled from her spot in the circle, and the distant firelight made her smile sparkle. "I think I'm starting to understand the two of you better, after tonight," she mused.

Colt leaned forward. "Impressed?"

"That you're still alive? Immensely."

"Pshaw," he blew a raspberry, waving a hand at her. "It's what we do, isn't it? Surviving the stunts, jumping out of buildings, getting set on fire. Pretty heroic if you ask me."

"What he does, anyway" Parker said pointedly. At her side, Jodi laughed. It was a tinkly sound, delicate, and very much her. She understood where her brother's infatuation stemmed from; Jodi Moreno was a stunning woman, gentle and kind in every way. "I stopped jumping out of buildings when I was, like, six. The heroics didn't really do it for me."

"Afraid?" Tom asked.

"Mhmmmm.... just not stupid I think."

Tom made a noise halfway between a laugh and a cough. Parker heard it—hard not to when she seemed to always be tuned in to him—but if her brother did, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he was in the process of finishing his beer.

"Are you sure you should have another?" Jodi asked.

"Am I sure that you should have another?" he shot back, completely ignoring her concern to grin madly at the group as he stuck his head into the cooler. "I think we should all have another. Yeah? A White Claw for m'lady. Stripe for m'sista. Tom, man, what you having?"

Tom blinked at him for a long moment, likely considering whether or not he even still wanted to be there, before giving in with a long suffering sigh. "Anything that's not shitty."

Colt glanced between Tom and the cooler silently. "Er, when you say nothing shitty," he hedged, a hand lifting to run through his hair. It promptly knocked his bucket hat off with a thump, but he didn't notice. "What's your opinion on Red Stripe?"

"Awful."

"Natties?"

"Worse."

The sound of ice and glass tinkled as he continued to dig through the cooler. "Corona?"

Tom, surprised at the option, shrugged. "Yeah, alright."

"Right, nice," he said, snapping finger guns towards Tom, before he returned his attention to the cooler with a dramatic sigh. "Thing is though there aren't any more of those, but—next time, next time I'll get some more. We do have a lime Bud Light? Domestic, I think. IPA, eh... maybe? Think they're organic, too, cuz that's a whole thing for you, right?"

Parker stuffer her lip between her teeth to keep from laughing, and swung towards Tom. His brows were drawn flat, shoulders tense, a cloud of irritation hovering over his spot in the sand. A string of giggles rushed past her mouth.

She slapped a hand over it just as quickly.

Tom heard it though, and as he glared at her, he just made an impatient gimme gesture to Colt with the flutter of his hand. Ice tinkled before a wet can was pressed into his palm.

"If you—you close your eyes," Colt continued nonsensically, "you won't even know the difference, my brother. Same thing."

"Yeah, I'll fucking get right on that."

Colt didn't hear the sarcasm and gave him a thumbs up paired with a grin. "Nice!"

Jodi giggled as Colt flopped down beside her. Despite her judgement on the drinking, she cracked open the drink he gave her, and lifted it into the air.

"I think now's a proper time for a toast," she said, nudging Colt gently in the side. He beamed at the attention; going so far as to sit up straight and pull his shoulders back. "I am very happy we got to meet on set, and, erm, hope you have a good year. Yeah?"

His face was almost entirely a grin now. "That's—that's nice. You have a nice accent, you know. It's the vowels."

"The vowels?"

"Killer 'o's."

"What does that even mean?" Jodi asked, laughing, which only seemed to please Colt further. Shaking her head at his antics, she turned next to Parker. "Parker?"

"Hm? Oh!"

In a rush, Parker moved from lying on her stomach to pulling her legs up underneath her. She teetered too far into Jodi's space for a moment before overcorrecting into Tom's. He didn't complain, but righted her with a gentle palm.

It was warm against her skin, comfortable too.

There was a flicker of a memory—the bathroom, the taunting and teasing, and feeling of her hand rubbing soothing circles into his flushed back—before she was thrown back into the present. He was blinking at her; calm and indifferent, as if not a bother in the world other than the lime Bud Light in his hand.

With a little effort, Parker moved her attention to her brother.

"Er, Colt, obviously I love you and I love spending time with you," she started. It felt like an awkward declaration with everyone watching her, but her brother didn't mind in the least. His smile had softened at the edges into something reminiscent. "You're my best friend, and the only person that I would follow to the West Coast."

He laughed. It was an inside joke between the pair that Parker had no love lost for the West Coast. She didn't like the valley girl accents or the overpriced cappuccinos, but at the end of the day, it was worth it.

She shook her head a second time. "Anyways, um, happy birthday. Another year, another bender, huh?"

Colt waggled a finger at her. "Don't let Mom hear you say that," he said, before adding in a bad stage whisper to Jodi, "Mom thinks I'm a bad influence on her."

To which Parker added in a stage whisper of her own, "he gave me my first cigarette."

"And I never heard the end of it."

They all laughed; starry eyes and sand warm skin as the evening air fell over them, before, naturally, their attentions moved to Tom.

Tom who, for the life of him, looked like he had just been thrown onto a stage without any clothes on. How someone could be an international super star and so awkward at the same time baffled Parker.

"Oh, uh, happy birthday," he managed with a flimsy nod. Then, when no one cheered to that—clearly expecting more—Tom added, "...you're a, um, good stunt double man."

Parker furrowed her brows at him, eyes widening ever so slightly in prompt, and after a moment his shoulders sank with an exhale.

"Honestly, you're really good at what you do, professional, and... you make me look good doing it, so, you know—happy birthday. I haven't forgotten that you introduced me to Gail, or whatever, so... thanks. Happy birthday, man."

Sensing that he was uncomfortable with the attention on him, and pleasantly surprised to hear Tom Ryder thank anyone was enough for Parker. She lifted her beer as high as she could, and gave a cry of "here, here" that everyone echoed.

When Parker sipped her beer, she glanced at the man beside her.

He didn't notice her gaze at first, but when he did, she saw him stiffen, fluffing his collar and raking a hand through his hair all in a choppy motion that she suspected were more robotic than anything else. He wasn't smiling like the others either.

Odd, for someone so used to the limelight to be uncomfortable with a couple odd attentions on him. But Parker was odd herself, and so she spared him grace where others may not.

"That was nice," she muttered.

Tom froze in his ministrations, before giving a harsh scoff. "Nice? Yeah, you're welcome. I usually get paid twenty grand for doing something like this."

"Attending a friend's birthday party?"

"Public appearances."

She hummed half-heartedly. It was sad to think that Tom would think of a small birthday party like this in terms of what sort of check he could be getting out of it, and she was having too much fun to be sad.

Colt's bucket hat caught her attention. She swiped it up before promptly plopping it atop her head. "Are bucket hats still a fashion crime?"

The question was only worthy of a side eye. "You look ridiculous."

Parker shrugged, grabbing the ends of her braids and wiggling them at him. There was still paint in her hair, as well as on her hands, and she supposed he had a point about her overall fashion sense. "What about now?"

The side eye lingered longer this time, swinging from the hat to her braids to her cross-eyed smile she was giving him.

Through it all, she caught the flicker of his smile.

Parker grinned. "I think you're just jealous of my hat."

"Colt's hat."

"I have a matching one," she said, twisting and turning to try and remember where she had left it. "I think it's in my car."

"Thank god for that."

Parker stuck her tongue out at him, at the same time that Jean-Claude came crashing through the scene. He kicked up sand over the both of them, a stick in his mouth as he danced back and forth on his front paws. Parker laughed—the dog, pervy or not, was pretty fricking cute—and as she wrestled with the stick in his mouth, there was a cry.

"Time for a picture! Come on, everyone gather round!"

Colt leapt to the front and Jodi clambered closer at her side as Jean-Claude practically sat in Parker's lap, stick forgotten in exchange for some gentle head scratches. She would have bowled backwards if Tom wasn't there with his warm palms, and as the rest of the remaining group piled in around them, she smiled up at him.

He didn't smile back; just looked at her, eyes sweeping over the length of her face, the dimples in her cheeks, and the curve of her nose for a moment so long Parker swore it lasted forever. But then there was a countdown, and together they tore their attention off of each other and looked forward.

"...two... one... say cheese!"

There was the click of a camera and a flash as the party called out together. The party came back to life with that single photo giving everyone a reason to group back together. People she had forgotten were even there started handing out the last of the beers from the cooler, marshmallows appeared out of someone's bag, and as energy threaded through them like a shot of her cousin's mystery hooch, someone turned the radio up just in time for The Spins by Mac Miller to come on.

It felt like a movie as everyone hopped to their feet, drinks raised, fire casting shimmer light over their drunken, grinning faces while sparks drifted up into the stars overhead.

Colt danced with Jodi, limbs awkwardly thrown forward and backward as the alcohol fueled their steps, and when Dan grabbed her around the waist and spun her, round and round they went, Parker threw her head back and shrieked with laughter. The type of laughter that had her chest heaving, face hurting from splitting so wide, every worry disappearing as they simply lived in the moment.

And, though the speaker was awful, and the beer was shitty, and their dancing was more so jumping in a discordant swing of limbs, and though the people weren't exactly the upper brow of Hollywood's finest or the rich elites that he was used to, Parker swore in the dim glow of the firelight, that Tom Ryder was grinning as well.

[sweetsweetemo]

How Tumblr views it's rights to moderation, a short post

(All screenshots taken from Tumblr's TOS and Community Guide) (Alt text provided)

Screenshot One:

According to the TOS any and all Services of the site (including an user account) can be removed or terminated at any point, for any reason, without any responsibility to warn it's users, at it's discretion.

The note claims that they only terminate or suspend accounts when they have a reason, but that's not necessarily true for the rest of the TOS.

Screenshot Two

"Tumblr may terminate or suspend your access to or ability to use any and all Services immediately, without prior notice or liability, for any reason or no reason."

well, it's written right there. they don't ever have to explain why they're terminating their users, because it's totally viable for them to do so with no reason whatsoever. i wonder if, maybe, this has any sort of relation to their alleged discriminatory bias towards trans women and transfeminine people on the site. probably not, don't worry about it!

At least, you say, they still have to abide by their own terms of service in their management!

Screenshot Three

"We reserve the right to enforce, or not enforce, these guidelines in our sole discretion, and these guidelines don't create a duty or contractual obligation for us to act in any particular manner."

That should explain, then, why rape threats are suddenly fine according to the Community Guidelines, however a trans comic with no genitalia being shown is flagged as mature content. These aren't actual rules, not to staff.

They have no obligation to enforce the Community Guidelines of their site, and according to TOS they are well allowed to terminate whoever they please for whatever reason comes to mind. Maybe, they'll send you an email before terminating your blog. Maybe not. Who knows? Maybe the april fools "we're deleting the website sayonara you weaboo shits" was always within realm of possibility!

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hi! Can I please request an Aragorn SFW alphabet for the 1k follow event? <3

You absolutely can request that! Thank you for participating in the 1k Follower Event! I really appreciate each and every one of you.

Content & Warnings: just fluff

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: Thank you to all who have submitted requests from the 1k follower event. A reminder that requests for that event are closed.

SFW Alphabet Template

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // 1k follower event masterlist

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Deeply affectionate in both the platonic and romantic sense. He cares deeply about those closest to him, and the ways he shows affection will vary from person to person. It all depends on the relationship he has with them. Romantic partners will see a lot more physical affection. Platonic relationships might involve more verbal forms.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Aragorn is an amazing best friend. He is steadfast, loyal, honest, and noble. He comes to his friends’ defense and will always consider them family. Some of Aragorn’s strongest friendships were built on incredible hardship.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Prefers cuddles over snuggles. An arm over your shoulder or around your back while you’re tucked against him, and your head resting against his shoulder or chest is a guilty pleasure for him.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Does want to settle down as long as he knows there will be stability. Times of unrest make it hard for Aragorn to see the end, but he does want to finally find peace in his life. He could certainly cook and clean without putting up a fuss, but let’s be real—he’s the king of Gondor. Other people are doing that for him.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Gently. He isn’t there to hurt feelings or cause bitterness. He will be honest and upfront.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Totally about commitment, but often doesn’t commit fully due to his lifestyle. Aragorn is a one and done sort of man, but sometimes duty calls, and commitment is difficult in times of war.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Even in times of stress, Aragorn is very good at being gentle with emotions. He is never physical with anyone unless it is warranted and there is a perceived threat.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Great hugger but doesn’t initiate unless it’s very much in the moment or he’s feeling a burst of emotion. Most of his hugs go to his partner.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Aragorn will use countless phrases to say “I love you” without actually saying the words. He’s saving the true “I love you” when he knows that the two of you can actually be together.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Rarely jealous, if ever. Aragorn is confident in where he stands with you and doesn’t see others as a potential threat to that dynamic.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

A slow, tender, and romantic kisser. They are passionate kisses but Aragorn isn’t one to rush through things. He is going to take his time when it comes to kisses. He loves kissing your fingers and hands, shoulders, and the curve of your neck.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Loves children and is very good with them. He is very fatherly. Would make a wonderful father to whatever children you have with him.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Waking up in his arms with sleepy kisses.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

The same as morning but reversed. Sleepy kisses before falling asleep in his arms.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Open but it is earned. Truly revealing pieces of himself is only for those most close to him. For example, a romantic partner will likely know far more about him than a companion he travels with.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Lots of patience with a few exceptions. In matters of life-and-death, his patience is short but he is still calm. Matters that involve discussions might be part of this exception. Aragorn will listen to all voices but even he might grow frustrated if a matter can’t be sorted.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Would remember everything. No question. Won’t even elaborate on this one.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time you met. He loves retelling that story, but loves to hear it more when you retell it.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Very protective. Aragorn is deeply protective of everyone he loves and cares for (this includes romantic and platonic capacities). Regardless of the relationship, Aragorn has an infinite amount of love and compassion for those around him, and he will always do his best to ensure their safety.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Would try if he is present. If he is away from you, don’t expect anything but his silent love. When Aragorn is with you, he is more likely to remember dates and anniversaries. He will often do things for you or gift things to you just because and not because he feels obligated to.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Leaving things around. Maybe it’s a boot or a dagger in its sheath, but Aragorn tends to set things down and walk away for a bit (and you always find the item before he does).

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Hardly. None. Aragorn isn’t arrogant or vain.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes. Aragorn yearns but he also understands separation is often necessary. Duty is important to him, as is honor, and he will continue on as he needs to, even if that means leaving you behind. That doesn’t mean a piece of him isn’t missing.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Enjoys a good afternoon nap under the shade of a tree.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Éowyn’s cooking (lmao I had to), putting someone down for their physical appearance, dishonesty when it’s better to simply tell the truth, having his time wasted

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Can fall asleep anywhere and at any time. It’s a learned skill. But does not sleep deeply. Even in sleep, Aragorn is alert.

taglist:

@glassgulls @childofyuggoth @foxxy-126 @km-ffluv @firelightinferno

@glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @coffeecaketornado @miaraei

@cherryofdeath @ferns-fics @ninman82 @thewulf @beebeechaos

@hantheconqueror