#but i wont lie this was kind of a flattering ask

[note-boom]

Are u a bsd manga reader :D ??

Unfortunately, I am not. I might have time in a few months to sit down and read it (if so, I'll probably spam this poor and currently sleeping blog with rambling reactions/analyses because I can't control myself). Or, if I get too impatient, I'll probably just go what responsibilities? and read it anyway...

BUT. I have read all of Volume 20 and a few of the arcs that caught my eye, and they were REALLY fun.

[borathae]

Chapter 6

HOSEOK BITCH STOP GRANDMA???? THATS A STRETCH AND KNOWING U ARE AN ANCIENT BEING, DAMN I-

Hoseok stumbles, colliding with Seokjin’s chest. ofc he laughs with his entire body FUCK I MISS HIM WTF NAH NOPE WE WONT CRY WE MUST STAY FOCUSED BROTHER

JIN U BETRAYED ME??? HOW COULD YOU

Seokjin pleads, giving you the biggest puppy eyes that man hates aegyo on command, but watch his ass do aegyo on command if its on run bts tasks 😭 ik he will be the most supportive one if you told bts you are selling feet pics

who calls their fraternity Alpha? What kind of superiority complex do they have?” 💯fr

What are you? Secret vampires or something?” um

So mysterious”, Hoseok says, ok ig

“that man can be an asshole.” WHAT DO U MEAN MY KITTY IS AN ASSHOLE????

dig his metaphorical fangs into your neck and drain you of your metaphorical blood WHAT DOES THAT MEAN??? (ik what it means, but 👀👀)

at least she got her sleep and is stress free now, i guess thats a win

JAMAL CHILL?? OOH JIN TELL EM SIS, WHATS HIS PROBLEM?

they are quaking with the desire to punch each other’s faces in. BE LESBIAN, PROBLEM SOLVED YEEHAW

Without me? homie really said that with his whole chest

It’s one of those activities you like to call terribly boring." ??? sir ??

also u know what, i will make it unboring for you real quick, lets go on a pirate ship, that will make u scream

dont judge my man yall, he was giving birth to lie on the pirate ship

WHAT DID TAE TELL HIM???? JAMAL SMILED AT ME??? his moodswings be like ➡️⬅️⬆️⬇️↗️↘️↙️↖️↕️↔️🔄️↪️↩️⤴️⤵️🔃

joon asks me out to study AAAAAAH 😩

holding his arm before you giggle into it. *twitching eyes WHY SHE GOTTA LIVE MY DREAM AAH BUTTER TAE THOSE ARMSS 🤤😋

“Oh you’re still here?” Taehyung asks STOP HE IS SOO SASSY, GIVE THAT MAN LONG NAILS

making Taehyung chuckle.......... one of his weirdly dishonest ones. tae when jin forces him to laugh at puns (that still makes me cackle)

He is a self-centred peacock PEACOCK DAMN GURL

“Violence is never the answer IT IS THE SOLUTION

ok sorry tae, back to serious mode, IS THAT FORESHADOW TO HIS PAST(mentioned in drabbles)

we are going swing dancing today UWUW

I can’t dance. What if I make a fool of myself?” I CANT DANCE EITHER, LETS GET MARRIED we can swing dance together for shits and giggles and get drunk in each other's laughter and smile, kissing passionately as if we are still in high school.

(omg that was so romantic, lemme just copy that)

did i tell you i still love the way he talks, its so coquette, in a manly way

I am a terrible student. i got exams in a month i have barely studied 😃😭

time does really fly fr it does, you wish it went fast, but when you think back, you wish you could live in that moment one more time

“cake is quite the delicacy oof the fanciness

ah yes old stuff *sighs in delight and coziness

There is fog in the air. It got stuck on the rooftops of the houses. Like a perfect gradient it makes them disappear into a grey nothingness. if this scene was on tv, what color light would it have?? (background lights you know) i was thinking of yellow, since we are talking about antiques

“I guess…” you look out the window for quite some time to think of an answer. You look at the perfectly polished stones of the sidewalk. You watch how the rain builds little rivers in the nooks and crannies. And that is when you get your answer. and the lights slowly becomes cool and blue (blue for calm, unity and stability)

thats a nice perspective of history but for the love of god, i cant stay awake or mentally present during it 😭

With your cheeks burning up like crazy and a big smile on your face you look out of the window again. A swing song comes on the radio, Taehyung turns it louder the tiniest bit. AND THE LIGHTS TURN PINK

“N-no? I-I’m alright”, you stutter. we can see that

Taehyung gets a few (probably painful) steps on his toes, but he doesn’t say anything. MASOCHIST ALERT 😭

stop flattering me im shyyyyy *shakes booty like jimin

this is so cute bye im soo single

“this was like in the movies! Do it again!” SHE IS SOO CUTE UWUW MOVE TAE SHE IS MINE *hits the gym so i can yeet tae out of the way and carry her

HE DID IT AGAIN HEEEHEEEEHEHHE

“Okay but that throwing thing you did? You can’t just do that without training first. Also why are you so strong? It’s inhuman really.” SAY IT SIS

I just think you are beyond precious”BYE IM GONE

Why do an elderly lady and Taehyung know each to such extent that they are hugging as if they were two old friends reuniting? dont overthink, they are just besties, um they met on a idk metro yeah

“it’s been so many years and yet you still look the same. While look at me”, OBVIOUSLY ITS SUS

Perhaps I should have taken the offer back then.” 👀👀

“What offer?” um the plastic surgery offer, anti aging laser. HERBS YEAH IT WAS THE HERBS, SHE MISSED OUT ON AN HERBAL MASSAGE

No way! That’s splendid! Just what you dreamt of!” they are such cute besties pls

It is hard not to choke on your olive, not when your body is burning up like that. i choked on air

How is it?” WHY IS THIS SOO HOT STOP DONT FOLD THAT FAST BITCH NA UH *also folds like a lawn chair in a sec

Taehyung gets off the barstool and closes the distance between you and him. SIR MY MENTAL HEALTH???

you stutter, knees buckling slightly as he helps you stand up. SLIGHTLY???? u mean buckling like a trying on heels

You haven’t told anyone ever but in your dreams you always pictured your prince charming to be good with elderly people and kids. Not that you would tell anyone your stupid fantasies, but you really did picture him like that. we all do, tae is a prince charming *sighs in high standards

“I think you gave that lady proper heart palpitations fr, i got so giddy just reading

And so full of life”, 👀👀👀as opposed to what sir???

Taehyung seems properly flustered for a moment, eyes flitting downwards and blinking rapidly. YES WE GOT THE CUTIE PIE FLUSTERED YEEHAW THIS IS A WIN FOR THE GAYS AND UNGAYS (i love to use this in sentences unrelated to sexuality)

quite sad to think that we are looking at something which has died thousands of years ago ... Well if you say it like that mood sis

it is nice to know that we can look at the past when we look at the stars?” waaaah im in love with her

I always thought of them as a reminder of death”, “or rather hell.” AYO??👀👀

they are still burning bright. Mustn’t it be such a burden to never get to rest?” ooh

*starts playing love maze

“Then you mess up, you mustn’t worry about mistakes you haven’t even made yet” i will try to remember this all the time

because right now I am thinking that this lamp is also alone, surrounded by darkness and thick fog and it should feel so terribly lonely and yet here it is, outshining both of them." 

HOW DO U WRITE THIS WELL?? LEAVE US SOME TALENT CRUMBS

People normally aren’t happy when they are around you and finally experiencing it feels so good.  WHO HURT YOU POOKIE??? IM COMING WITH MY FRYING PAN

this is soo cute i cant, the writing, them, the lamp and the stars gosh, i feel so giddy i wanna spin around the lamppost like a simp does in music videos

Yes darling” Taehyung whispers and there is obvious seduction in his voice. OHO HO HO I SEE U NAUGHTY BOI

this was a cute chapter im gonna sleep soo good with idk grass and unicorns in my dreams

HOSEOK BITCH STOP GRANDMA???? THATS A STRETCH AND KNOWING U ARE AN ANCIENT BEING, DAMN I-

lmoaoao he is so mean for no reason fajsdfja I love him JFAJDFJ

Hoseok stumbles, colliding with Seokjin’s chest. ofc he laughs with his entire body FUCK I MISS HIM WTF NAH NOPE WE WONT CRY WE MUST STAY FOCUSED BROTHER

LISTEN I MISS HIM TOO OMFG I'M IN PAIN

Seokjin pleads, giving you the biggest puppy eyes that man hates aegyo on command, but watch his ass do aegyo on command if its on run bts tasks 😭 ik he will be the most supportive one if you told bts you are selling feet pics

I miss him so much 😭 BUT ALSO LESS THAN A MONTH TILL HE IS BACK OMGMGMG (the most supportive for feet pics would be Tae though change my mind. you can't.)

who calls their fraternity Alpha? What kind of superiority complex do they have?” 💯fr

no but it will ALL MAKE SENSE LIKE LIKE LIEK LIEKEKE LIKEKE

“that man can be an asshole.” WHAT DO U MEAN MY KITTY IS AN ASSHOLE????

the foreshADOWINGNNG (i said too much)

dig his metaphorical fangs into your neck and drain you of your metaphorical blood WHAT DOES THAT MEAN??? (ik what it means, but 👀👀)

HELLOOOOOOOOOO

Without me? homie really said that with his whole chest

THE JEALOUSY of this man LIKE

It’s one of those activities you like to call terribly boring." ??? sir ??

i love their sass fr fjadsjf

WHAT DID TAE TELL HIM???? JAMAL SMILED AT ME??? his moodswings be like ➡️⬅️⬆️⬇️↗️↘️↙️↖️↕️↔️🔄️↪️↩️⤴️⤵️🔃

perhaps something with her metaphorical blood HELLOO

joon asks me out to study AAAAAAH 😩

AAAH (scared)

holding his arm before you giggle into it. *twitching eyes WHY SHE GOTTA LIVE MY DREAM AAH BUTTER TAE THOSE ARMSS 🤤😋

when this video dropped I lost IT

ok sorry tae, back to serious mode, IS THAT FORESHADOW TO HIS PAST(mentioned in drabbles)

mhmhmmhmh

time does really fly fr it does, you wish it went fast, but when you think back, you wish you could live in that moment one more time

YES THIS OMFG the most painful thing ever 😭

ALSO I love how you thought of different colours during the scene <3 I love this energy heheh <3

Taehyung gets a few (probably painful) steps on his toes, but he doesn’t say anything. MASOCHIST ALERT 😭

there are no lies to be found here tbfh

“this was like in the movies! Do it again!” SHE IS SOO CUTE UWUW MOVE TAE SHE IS MINE *hits the gym so i can yeet tae out of the way and carry her

NO BUT THANK YOU i LOVE HER SO MUCH she is so cute frrr

“it’s been so many years and yet you still look the same. While look at me”, OBVIOUSLY ITS SUS

it IS

lmaooao you losing it over Tae existing is so me fr

it is nice to know that we can look at the past when we look at the stars?” waaaah im in love with her

me fr

I always thought of them as a reminder of death”, “or rather hell.” AYO??👀👀

THE FORESHADOWING GOES CRAZY FR ps: i forgot the stars and photography part during this chapter and now im <3 holy moly they were so cute together in the beginning im so soft

People normally aren’t happy when they are around you and finally experiencing it feels so good.  WHO HURT YOU POOKIE??? IM COMING WITH MY FRYING PAN

NO BUT FR

this is soo cute i cant, the writing, them, the lamp and the stars gosh, i feel so giddy i wanna spin around the lamppost like a simp does in music videos

I'M HAPPY YOU LOVED IT SO MUCH HEHEHE 💜💜

[thequietkid-moonie]

S/O always plays videogames music

[ HEADCANONS ] [ Kousei Arima ]

[ Your lie in april / Shigatsu wa kimi no uso ]

The NieR and Undertale soundtrack are beautiful and don't get me started with Omori or God of War soundtrack because i wont shut up 🤠 Also, the soundtrack of the Nintendo games are pure ✨ magic ✨

In conclusion i'm obsessed and that is why im writing this 🤠

Kousei doesn't really show it much but he loves spending time with his partner, every moment he pass with you he holds it close to his heart, and when he started to play the piano again (thanks to Kaori's help) he is rather excited to share the music with you too (but nervous too for his problem of not hearing it)

It makes him happy hearing you play music too, it doesn't matter to much what kind of instrument you play or if you do it just as a hobby, he is still happy to heard you

At first he used to pay a lot of attention of what you play thinking on the notes and the times, but when he start to lose his perfectionism and start to play with his heart he start to pay more attention on the melody and what it makes him feel. Although, since the very moment he started to hear you play he had been curious about the songs and he is used to always practice and play classical music (especially for the lessons his mother gave him) so he isn't too familiar with the music you play

It would either happen that he decides to ask you about it or that you were telling him about the game, but the moment you tell him that the song is from a video game he is dumbfounded, he had never expected an answer like that, and since all his life he has focused on the piano he really never had approached to the videogames so he knows little to nothing about them, that is why he is so taken aback for it

Even when you told him the name of the song or where does it come from he still doesn't get it, he will just let you be (or try to) and don't ask more, but with after a while he can't help but feel too much curiosity so at the end he will just ask you more about it and admiting that he has not idea of what you told him too

Even when he doesn't express it with words his surprise and confusion is all over his face so you can easily tell what he is thinking, still he doesn't ask much about the game, it will be your choise to tell him more or not

He isn't one who judge so he won't say much about you wanting to play videogames music, and he will be lying if he says he didn't like it (but what he likes most is seeing you so happy while playing it)

Also, when he start paying more attention on what it makes him feel is when he will get more interested on the game too, wanting to know more about the context of the song (since every song is made especially for every situation, either just visiting a place of the game or even a boss fight), he may not fully understand but he is curious

Every time he hears you playing a new song he stops whatever he is doing just to heard you, and if you came directly to him to show him the new song you just learned he will be so flattered, shyly accept to hear you play it

He still focus on just playing classical music, but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy hearing you play that music, even more when he is taking a break from his practice (but if you insist enough he will give a try and learn the song to be your companion, but he will be really nervous about it)

And any time he heards you play music he is either so peacefuly and just focused on the music or seeing you with a lovestruck expression (and you can bet that Watari and Kaori will tease the hell out of him for it)

[needleanddead]

remember when i was like ‘i will probably use this blog to write some horrible reader-insert fanfiction too’? yeah. 

knife-edge, strade x reader, 3.2k

trigger warnings: not sfw, non-con, blood, violence, gore, references to torture/snuff films, honestly i figure you probably know what you’re getting into if you’re seeing this. reader uses no pronouns/neutral pronouns but is vaguely implied to be afab. 

cross-posted to ao3

You do not know how you still have it in you to scream, and cry, and beg.

Well.

That’s a lie, really; you have it in you to scream, and cry, and beg, because you know that the moment you stop – the moment you let yourself truly succumb to that pit of nothingness that lies heavy and waiting in your chest – he will lose interest in you completely, and you will meet the same fate as all of the rest of them do.

Despite the shock collar that lies heavy around your throat; the proof that he had seen some value in you beyond what you might feel like if he tore you into pieces and let you rot, you know that any peace you have here is temporary. He’ll get bored. He’ll lose control. He’ll--

Sometimes you wonder if those things might be better. The idea of death hovers at the edges of your vision like a spectre, waiting for you – and you are a coward and you run from it, whimpering and sensitive with tears rolling down your cheeks whenever he takes you back down the creaking basement stairs and wraps rope around already rubbed-raw wrists.

You don’t think you’d recognise the sight of your own wrists without the rope burn any more. It seems so long since you’ve been anything other than captive. You’re not sure you even know who you are unless you have a blade half-buried in your thigh or thick fingers digging and reopening wounds or pliers too close to vulnerable flesh.

You think he likes that, too – that you don’t seem to exist unless you’re hurting. Delights that he’s broken you without breaking the part of you that he really likes; the one with the trembling lip and the gasping and the tears beading in your eyes. You beg less now; you have learnt that he’s always able to turn a ‘please, please don’t, not that--’ into something that’s somehow worse. But when you’d first woken up all rope-burnt and disoriented with your arms wrapped around a pole in a basement that smelt like copper and oil, you had begged until your throat was sore.

What you had gotten for your troubles was your own hand wrapped around the knife handle as you sliced into too soft, too giving flesh and stared in horror at bubbling rivulets of blood with the dim thought in the back of your mind; I did this to myself.

It’s a dangerous knife-edge that you’re walking; don’t fight too much, but don’t give in too much. Don’t break, but don’t entirely yield. If he gets bored of you, or if you push him too far – then the collar around your neck will be carefully unlocked and you’ll regret everything. You’ll meet the fate that you so narrowly avoided, bleeding and broken and disoriented as your life slips away to the tune of Strade’s fingers wrapped too hard about your throat.

Or worse, you’ll meet the fate you’ve seen some of the ones who have broken too early become acquainted with; bandana wrapped around his mouth and camera painstakingly readjusted to perfectly centre a sobbing, terrified face. You have been far too close to the ones who end up that way; brought down to the basement and given a nail gun as you’re shoved onto your knees in front of a girl who might once have been pretty but is a little too matted with blood and bruises to be called the same any more.

“I thought they might like to see someone else hurt her this time, schatzi,” his smile had not dimmed a watt. When you had first met him, that smile had put you at ease; his eyes had reminded you of honey, and you’d been so flattered, so warmed, to have the attention of someone who oozed easy charm--

You know now his eyes are not the soft amber of honey but the sharp yellow-orange of a hawk; a predator. When he had smiled at you, he had not been thinking of the kindness of making someone feel comfortable – he had merely been imagining how prettily you would break. Which, as he had not failed to tell you after you’d sobbed out every plea you could and had jagged stitches and broken bones and blood crusted on your face to prove it, had been even more lovely than he had imagined.

The nail gun had been too heavy in your hand; the trigger sweaty, because Strade himself was over-excited and flushed dark pink under tanned skin and excitement beading at his brow. Your fingers had slipped all over it as he’d murmured;

“They want you to put a pretty pattern in her up her shins to her knees. Start at the . . . haa, start at the ankle--”

You’d felt something inside of you snap as if it was very far away as you stared at her legs; already cut up a little and stitched messily, as Strade is so wont to do to make sure his captives last longer. You hesitate too long, because suddenly thick, strong fingers are gripping your jaw and squeezing too hard as they turn your face towards the camera like a rabbit caught in headlights.

His fingers will bruise your face, you know – and he will see it tomorrow, and dig them harder, make the bruises deeper until you can barely open your jaw--

“Ah, they think you’re cute, mäuschen,” Strade says, an uncomfortable lilt in his voice that sets your teeth on edge. “They’d be happy to see you as the star instead – and I’m sure our other guest would much prefer it too.”

(The girl in the chair leans forward, babbling words that don’t make sense; bubbling drool slips from her lips, tinged pink, and you think that this one must have talked too much and Strade has done something to her tongue).

“Now,” his tone is endlessly patient. “You know I want to keep you, ja? You’re very sweet. I like you a lot - so be good and do what the audience want, and I won’t have to do something I don’t want to, will I?”

He is hard to read. Cheerful to angry in moments; snapping and bouncing from side to side with a laugh and a wild light in his eyes that you don’t understand. He does like you – insofar as you think Strade is capable of really feeling for other people – but you can’t wager your life on him bluffing. The girl looks at you with agonised eyes and you pull the trigger, the nose of the gun pressed against her ankle.

You hear her scream – wet, through a throat clogged with blood, the sound mixing with the disgusting crunch-squelch of the nail being driven into her skin too close to the bone – and it echoes far longer in your head than it actually lasts. You feel far away as you trail the gun further up her leg, pulling the trigger, your marks on her surprisingly straight considering how much the both of you are trembling – but you know you’re crying because you can hear Strade breathing a little heavy, see the bulge in his pants (level with your face) from the corner of your eye as you finish the first leg and move to the second.

It’s not the last time he makes you hurt someone on stream. Sometimes, he checks the stream whilst you’re there and whichever poor soul he’s got taped to a chair whimpers and squirms, whistling cheerily through his teeth as if the situation is perfectly normal. You see the comments as they scroll by; asking you to do horrible things, the ping of donations, the occasional plea to dig a screwdriver into your eye socket and make you scream or pull out your teeth with pliers or slash a heavy knife through your ribcage and fuck the wound he leaves there--

You think he lets you see them on purpose, as a reminder of what he could do to you. He always makes sure the stream sees your face perfectly clearly, too – and you never fail to think; ‘he is making me an accessory to his murders’.

(It is not just you; you find out that Ren is subjected to this same treatment, this same reminder that Strade’s moods are volatile and he loses self-control too quickly and there’s every chance that one day, he will go too far. You do not share your thoughts with Ren that even if, by some miracle, the two of you found yourself outside of Strade’s control, your face is probably plastered all over the darkest shadows of the deep web. You never talk about what might happen. You do not quite trust each other beyond sharing in patching up each other’s wounds, occasionally seeking one another out for company, trembling in the night. There is a kind of tension between you; fear that the other is the favourite. That Strade perhaps isn’t capable of keeping both of you long-term.

It makes Strade himself laugh when he sees that you’re on edge around each other and he leans forward to rest elbows on knees and tells you with a wicked glint in his eye that he just wants the both of you to get along. Perhaps you two need to share something very special, like what he shares with the both of you.

When he tells you to hurt one another, Ren has the advantage of animal nature. It’s clear to you where you stand in the pecking order of predators. You think, too, that Strade prefers you there. Master, fox, mouse.)

You never hear anything from the room designated as yours; it doesn’t escape notice that there is no other bedroom, aside from Ren’s domain and the one that Strade himself barely uses. Nowhere for someone else, if Strade were to take it into his head that another captive would be an interesting pet to keep--

It has been long enough that there are some things you have asked for, tremulous and whimpering, decorating surfaces and scattered about the room. There are also reminders of Strade, too; a hammer and nails on a chest of drawers, a knife in the bedside cabinet, too many things that could be used as weapons at the same time as being summarily excused as simply the detritus of a man doing home improvements.

You’d woken up that morning (you know it is morning because early fingers of dawn have penetrated even through the curtains you keep closed) to see Strade silhouetted in the doorway, smile on his face, shirt spattered with dark red and brown. You know that expression. You sit up, letting the covers fall, and he keeps smiling as he closes the door behind him and approaches you like a wolf approaches a frightened rabbit.

“Last night was disappointing,” he says, his tone light. You’d heard a thump in the middle of the night; assumed it to be Strade dragging a body down to the basement, and had resolutely buried your face into your pillow and pretended you heard nothing.

It’s easier to think of Strade’s other victims – the ones not so lucky as you or Ren – as faceless, foolish creatures. Food. Sustenance. Not people.

“I’m sorry,” you say, voice quiet, cracking. Strade reaches across and chucks your chin, too fondly, bright smile and bright eyes.

“It’s alright,” he tells you. He’s pleased with the apology. He likes it when you’re polite. “It just means that I’m feeling a little . . . ahh. Restless. You’ll help me with that, won’t you?”

“Of c-course I will.” The stutter; he likes that, you know. He shifts as he sits on the bed.

A chuckle.

“You’re always so well-behaved,” he tells you. “sehr süß.”

The knife-edge you walk; the tight-rope. Well-behaved, but not broken. Responsive, but not troublesome. You’ve gotten it down to a fine art.

He’s on top of you before you can respond, knees shoved between your legs, your hand shoved hard against the bedside table so it knocks uncomfortably against hard wood and you flinch at the shock of pain.

The brief pain, though, is nothing to the anxiety that crawls up your throat as you realise he grabbed the hammer and nails as he walked in.

He chuckles as he sees your eyes widen in fear, cooing softly to you;

“That expression. So hübsch. Stay still for me.”

Your wrist is shaking as Strade carefully places a nail right in the centre of your hand; testing the angle, the positioning. His breath is uneven and panting in excitement at what he’s going to do – and excitement, too, that he knows you won’t pull away. Because you know if you do, it will not merely be a nail through one hand, but perhaps through your other and your knees and your feet, perhaps a knife slicing through you like butter, perhaps the feel of chisels and needles and sharper and more painful objects (knife, pliers, screwdriver, chisel, bradawl, drill--).

He lifts the hammer. He watches intently. His eyes are lit with bright excitement, chest heaving, sweat-soaked and greasy. You taste copper and realise you’ve bitten through your lip.

You’ve grown used to the smell of copper and motor oil and meat. If it weren’t for the flood of blood across your tongue you doubt you’d have noticed.

Crack. The first blow. The pain is blinding.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Every single hit of the hammer sends a new shock of pain through you that echoes through the inside of your arm through to the bone marrow, shaking you. It’s not the most painful thing you’ve felt at Strade’s hands; but you are still partly asleep, still not quite aware, and you are simply looking at your hand with the crunch of fractured bones (twenty seven bones in the human hand; is that your capitate, that’s been splintered through?) and the sick wet noise of blood and muscle and you can’t think.

You stare, unblinking, at where your hand is nailed to the bedside table - the gore and blood that oozes from the wound as he uses the clawed end of the hammer to drag it out again. Strade’s smile is beatific, eyes wide and bright, sweat dampening his collar and his cheeks flushed and ruddy.

You’re unable to process anything for another long, agonising second; relief flooding you when finally, you respond. The whimper a delayed reaction, the tears that roll fat and hot down your own face taking a beat longer than usual.

You fear that you’ve broken for the moment you’re staring in horror; that he has finally, well and truly snapped you in half. Because if you’re broken, that means he’ll lose interest, and that means the basement and the fear of death finally catching up with you.

Occasionally the thought flits across your mind that death perhaps would be preferable; but you are a coward, and you have hurt people (even if it was on Strade’s command), and you do not want to know what awaits you on the other side of a non-beating heart and the light in a tunnel.

Strade chuckles, affectionately rubbing his nose against the line of your jaw, teeth digging just a little too hard into the flesh of your neck.

“You had me worried for a second, mäuschen,” he practically purrs. “I thought I’d heard the last of your squeaking.” Big fingers, tugging at your thighs, guiding you to wrap them around his hips. Despite the softness of his body, the proof that he enjoys lazing around and cheap beer and meat a little too much, there’s raw muscle beneath the chub. Even his hands on you are a reminder of how strong he is.

(Strong enough to drag dead bodies across floors, to lift them into kilns, to hold down unwilling, screaming captives and make them regret they ever laid eyes on him.)

“Unzip,” he tells you. One of your hands is free; unpierced, though scarred from being pressed against stove burned and soldering irons and heat guns, from grabbing the blade of a knife when he’s told you to fuck yourself with the handle, from sanders applied to formerly soft skin. You do not use that hand.

You force yourself to move the one dripping in your own blood, the ruined hand pierced straight through. The movement of your fingers burns, sending shock waves of pain all through you; but you tug at the zip of his pants nonetheless. You get blood all over his clothes but he just chuckles low and dangerous, as you reach into his underwear too and squeeze your eyes shut when you feel how hot and hard and heavy his cock is in your grip.

“Eyes on me,” he reminds you, soft, and you force yourself to open them. He drinks in the expression on your face like he’s a starved man and it’s his first meal.

There’s a bloody handprint on his shaft when your fingers and wrist finally give out and your hand falls onto the sheets and pillows beneath you, staining them too, and you think that Strade is going to drive more nails through your hand just to prove a point about not doing as he says.

But his cock presses hot and needy against your inner thigh, smearing blood and pre-come on your scarred skin, and he’s panting and practically drooling as he murmurs;

“You know you’re not going to break, schatz. You want to live too much.” He leans his face further down. He does not kiss you so much as take control of you; worry teeth into your bottom lip, transfer his own saliva into your mouth, conquer the cavern behind your lips and teeth (one of them is loose; from being hit and squeezed. He pushes his tongue just a little too hard against that one and your body contracts, a whimper transferred from your throat to his mouth, and he swallows it up like your protests are a fine steak). “Ah. That’s what I like about you.”

Are you going to break? The push of him pressing inside of you makes your toes curl, a soft noise that might be a moan escape; Strade laughs, again, the sound too hearty and friendly to come out of the monster that you know he is.

“You like it,” he presses, as his thumbs come to your hips and dig into wounds that have been stitched together; you hear the stitches pop, feel him re-open barely healed gashes. “You like being special to me. You like this.”

You don’t think you do.

You don’t think you like any of this; his body on top of yours, the pain, the mistrust, the fear that prickles hot and sharp and sour in your throat whenever you hear the door (the one you can’t go near) open. But you also know that saying that is the wrong answer. Hitting and screaming like a wildcat is the wrong answer. Saying nothing at all is the wrong answer.

So instead, you open your mouth, you shiver and shudder as his thumb presses deeper into the re-opened wound, and you manage to choke out a mouse-squeak of;

“Pl-please—”

It’s the right answer. His face does not soften; but his smile widens, his hips tilting until you’re so full you can barely move and you ache everywhere, and Strade simply smiles down at you as whatever passes for affection for him leaks into his tone and he coos;

“Don’t worry, mäuschen. I’ll give you exactly what you want. For as long as you need.”

[german translation dictionary;  schatzi - sweetheart/dear/darling/treasure mäuschen - little mouse sehr süß - very sweet/very cute so hübsch - so pretty idk how accurate these are i am just using google translate always]

[onthesandsofdreams]

The Courtship of Erestor

Pairing: Erestor/Ecthelion Rating: T Summary:  “I won’t make you wait any longer, darling Erestor.” Words: 3004

Read @ AO3

“Erestor, just because your mother gave you that name,” Idril gave his arm a friendly squeeze, a mock stern tone to her voice. “Doesn’t mean you’ll be alone forever. Have some faith.”

Erestor sighed, he and Idril had been friends since childhood, their mothers being friends had facilitated such thing. “And yet, I remain alone.”

“Perhaps you just haven’t met the one just yet.” Idril looked at him, a serious look to her face now. “Or maybe you have and you both are being stubborn and afraid.”

Erestor did his best not to wince, because Idril had unknowingly struck true. There was someone, someone he fancied – no, loved. Because he knew himself well enough to know that it was love. But he wasn’t quite ready to admit it out loud, at least he wasn’t ready to speak his name to Idril. He knew her enough to know that she’ll do her best and meddle. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that, because Idril could be quite persistent and, he knew that she would go out of her way to make sure that the object of his affections was around in oh-so convenient places wherever he would be. “No one has tried to court me either,” he pointed out.

Idril looked at him, with those bright blue eyes of her that almost seemed to see to his very soul. Then, after a few moments of silence, she smiled softly. “They are fools then. Fools for not seeing beyond that sharp tongue of yours. You’re smart and cunning, clever and resourceful, kind and compassionate, and you have one of the noblest hearts I know. You’re quite handsome too, so take heart dear Erestor, I know, that someone out there, will look at you and fall so completely in love, they will refuse to let you go. You won’t be alone forever.”

Idril’s words gave Erestor hope, and he knew that he was such a fortunate elf for having her as his friend. “If Princess Idril says so, then, it must be true,” he spoke solemnly. Then, softly, he said, “It would be nice not being alone anymore.”

Idril kissed his cheek, “You won’t be so for long, so my heart says.”

Erestor simply squeezed her hand, they were sitting under the shade of a tree in the Palace gardens for lunch, Idril had already asked a servant to prepared everything, choosing to drag Erestor outside herself, else, he would find an excuse and continue working.

So Erestor never did see the shadow that lurked, hidden behind a near fountain. Nor did he notice, the eyes that were glued to his face, nor did he hear the whisper that left the figure as Erestor and Idril continued their meal. “I won’t make you wait any longer, darling Erestor.”

*** Two days after his talk with Idril, Erestor found himself locked away in his office. The lunch bell had rung and he simply couldn’t leave, the pile of paperwork that laid in front of him demanded his undivided attention, so with a rueful gesture, he kept on working.

Erestor would’ve continued on undisturbed and ignored the hunger he felt, until there was a knock on his door. “Come,” he spoke softly, not even bothering to look up.

“My lord Erestor,” it was a woman’s voice. At that, Erestor looked up to see one of the kitchen maids carrying a basket. “I was asked to deliver this to you.”

“Who?” Erestor asked as he inspected the basket. Inside it, he found a small bottle of wine, a sandwich that was made of cold meat, soft cheese and spinach, alongside a bowl of wild berries. There was a note too, it simply read, ‘You work too hard’.

The maid shook her head, “I do not know milord, I was simply asked by Lothwen, she had it ready for you, said that it was a request. I know nothing more.”

Erestor nodded slowly, “My thanks than, dear lady. And give my thanks to our dear Lothwen.”

The maid bowed and left, leaving Erestor deep in thought. Lothwen, the head cook, was someone who took her duties very seriously, and while it would be possible that she would’ve set aside some food for him (as she had done so before), the fact that he had been told it was a request threw him off. He crossed Idril, Turgon and Penlod immediately, they would simply send for him or come to his office and made him join them at the dinner table.

In the end, Erestor shrugged and tucked in. The meat was tender, the bread had mustard and the cheese was one of his favorites. He swallowed down his food with the wine, thankful for that small thoughtful act.

***

Two days later, Erestor found something strange in his office. He had arrived on time, as it was his wont, only to find a box of chocolate truffles in his desk. He approached the box wearily, almost as if it were a snake that was poised to attack. Atop the box, there was a note, ‘Something sweet to start your day, enjoy Erestor’.

Erestor inspected the truffles and bit into one, they were made of dark, almost bitter chocolate – his favorite, his mind supplied – and were laced with fine brandy. He didn’t know what to make of it, instead, he finished the truffle he had been eating and putting the rest aside to take home, he began to work.

His mind however, didn’t stopped and it made Erestor realize that, whomever it had gifted the truffles, clearly knew that he favored both dark chocolate and brandy. He shook his head, he could ponder on the mystery later, right now, he had work to do.

Several days latter, Erestor arrived at his office to find a lovely flower bouquet. His heart raced, and he raised a shaky hand to brush against the flower petals. They were red roses. And he, ever the scholar and ever the closet romantic, knew what that meant: love. The red rose always meant that. He began to look for a note and he found it tied around the stems (which had been free of thorns):

‘Have some beautiful blossoms, to match your beauty’.

Erestor released the breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Who would give him flowers? He took the bouquet and lifted them to his nose, he allowed the scent of the roses to wash over his senses. He couldn’t help but to smile. No matter what, those flowers had given him something: hope. Perhaps, there was someone out there for him.

But he wouldn’t lie to himself, Erestor was afraid that whomever did this, would change his or her mind and forget everything and leave him to deal with both disappointment and to nurse a broken heart. Still, he cherished the flowers.

***

Much to Erestor’s surprise, the gifts didn’t stop after the flowers. They simply varied, one day, he arrived to find a book of love poetry in his desk, clearly hand written and intended for him (or at least the dedication claimed), another was a journal, another came in a fine bottle of brandy, one memorable day, he was gifted a mithril ring that bore tiny opals, a case of his favorite sweet wine had been delivered to his home once. Foodstuff also came, during one memorable occasion, during a dinner he had been served strawberry ice cream, something that had been the envy of many. Gifts of books and other small little trinkets came too, and through it all, there was a note and on some days, a poem too.

Erestor cherished the poetry, it was clear that whomever it was that it had written it, was doing so from their hearts, for it was loving and kind, some, even spoke of him in such a way that made him flush with pleasure. He had never been so flattered as to when he read a poem by his admirer, he’d never received poetry that was inspired by him.

But Erestor did not have a clue as to whom it was sending him the gifts. He had tried speaking with Lothwen, as she could know who it was, but she had simply smiled and refused to say anything. Idril was another dead end, she had given him a look that clearly spoke about knowing who it was, but she simply smiled and said, “You’ll find soon enough dear Erestor.”

And so, Erestor simply wondered who it could be. He would often see an elf and wonder, ‘is this him? Is this her?’ and have no answer. The servants didn’t know either, some had claimed that the gifts that had arrived to his office, had simply arrived late at night by messenger and they had simply delivered them to him.

His brother was no help either, Penlod, had witnessed it most of it. And simply smiled upon him, placed a strong hand on his shoulder and said, “You, my darling brother are being courted. Enjoy it.”

And yes, Erestor was enjoying it. But he would enjoy it even more if he knew whom it was. What if it was someone he didn’t like? But he dismissed the idea, the poetry was enough to convince him of that. For the honest and eager beauty of them could not lie. Whomever it was, clearly knew him well enough and loved him.

Because the poems and dedications of the gifts, had started at some point being signed with ‘with all my love’. Love, the one thing he ached for and now, it seemed that it was so near his grasp. Now, he only wished his admirer would step forward and give him a name.

Oh there was someone Erestor dearly wanted it to be, he had been in love with Ecthelion, Lord of the Fountain for quite a while, but he had never mustered the courage to say so. Ecthelion shone brightly, he was such a respected elf and so sought after, that he was sadly aware that he – plain Erestor – would not have a chance with him. There wasn’t anything that Erestor didn’t like about Ecthelion, his kind and gentle heart, his fierceness as a warrior, that beautiful voice that was made to be raised in song, those deep gray-green eyes, those proud and noble features.

But now, Erestor wondered if he could let Ecthelion go and enjoy love with someone who clearly thought the world of him. Someone who claimed to love him, someone who was going out of their way to make sure Erestor knew it.

Perhaps he could.

*** Erestor’s next gift, came just in time for Idril’s begetting day celebration. The robes arrived as per usual, a messenger bearing it and a note, ‘Would you honor me by wearing it? I think you would look breathtaking. Someone who loves you.’

When Erestor opened the package, he found a ruby red robe with silver embroidery. It was a made with fine velvet and silk, and it was so unlike anything he usually wore. He tended to limit himself to black, dark green, burgundy and dark blue. Only on especial occasions did he wore the colors of his house. But this shade of red? It was very unlike him, but he appreciated the gesture.

“That is beautiful brother,” Penlod’s voice broke the silence in the room. “A new gift?”

“Yes,” he said and offered the robe for Penlod’s inspection. “I’m just… overwhelmed, I suppose.”

Penlod observed the robe, then set it aside carefully and went to his brother. “This is a very fine garment, it would suit you well. Your admirer clearly wants you in fine things.”

Erestor couldn’t help but to blush. “I just wish I knew who it was.”

“Is there someone you want it to be?” Penlod’s voice was soft and tender, as he watched as his brother stared at the gift.

“There is,” Erestor said just as softly. “But, it would not be right to get my hopes dashed.”

Penlod said nothing for a while, he knew that his brother had a tender heart, no matter what facade he gave the world, there was a loving and gentle heart that feared to be broken. “Then, I hope that your admirer is someone you may grow to love if you so wish it.”

“Thank you brother.”

***

Idril’s begetting day arrives swiftly and finds Erestor at a crossroads. He stares at the red robe his admirer sent and wonders if he should wear it. Penlod had ordered a new set in several shades of gray and silver. But in the end, he opts for the red ones. Wears black trousers and the silver tunic from Pelond’s set, dons the robes over it and takes a deep breath, finishes it with boots.

Perhaps his admirer will out themselves if they see him wear them. Erestor’s most desperate desire still leans towards Ecthelion, but his heart is open to the possibility of someone else. He sits in front of his vanity and braids his hair, sets some diamonds and rubies throughout it. When he was finally ready, he looked at himself in the mirror and, for one second, he almost didn’t recognized himself. The elf that stares back from his mirror is… quite the sight.

Erestor allows himself a tiny smile, his admirer had chosen well in the color and cut. It’s a bold look that he finds suits him well. He leaves his chamber before doubts can catch up with him and make him fake a headache.

He finds Penlod in the drawing room, glass of wine in his hand. His brother is dressed in deep gray and silver. Penlod takes one look at him and smiles over the brim of his glass. “You are quite the sight brother, are you ready?”

“Thank you brother,” Erestor tries to suppress the blush that comes, fails. “I am, let us be off, it wouldn’t do to be late.”

***

Idril’s begetting day feast was a lively one, Erestor found himself enjoying it. He was usually not one for loud parties, preferring far more intimate gatherings, but it could not be said that King Turgon did not know how to throw a feast.

Idril dragged him to dance on several occasions and, much to his surprise, Erestor found himself being on the receiving end of more requests. It was the robes, he decided, he wasn’t usually so bold in his dressing. He danced here and there, chatted with his fellow elves and found himself in lively discussion with Glorfindel about a new strain of roses he was trying to grow.

And much to his absolute delight and surprise, Ecthelion had complimented him on his robes. “They suit you well,” he’d said. They had shared a dance too, in which Erestor did his best to calm his nerves as he was swept to the dance floor at the arm of the Lord of the Fountain.

But the night went on, and there was no sign of his admirer. On impulse, Erestor made his way to the Palace garden, Turgon had several flowering plants that bloomed at night and the fragrance that they gave, alongside the crisp air and other greenery, calmed him down. He lost track of the time he spent near the roses, when a voice – one that he knew very well – broke the silence.

“I am glad to see that my gift suited you.”

Erestor froze. His mind was spinning, that sweet, melodic voice that he loved so much. Carefully, he turned. And Ecthelion stood some paces away from him. Dressed in silver brocade robes with accents in blue, circlet of his station upon his brow, hair braided with blue ribbons. His face was soft and tender, a small smile upon his face and his eyes, they were warm and – it took his breath away – full of love.

“It was you?” It was all Erestor managed to say. So much for being hailed as eloquent. But then again, diplomacy and such others hardly mattered (or prepared you) in matters of the heart.

“Yes.” Comes the soft reply. And before Erestor can ask more questions, Ecthelion recites one of the poems that are on the book he received, his voice is full of emotion as he does and Erestor find that his own vision blurs with unshed tears.

Erestor blinks the tears away, lets his heart soar with joy, the Valar it seem, have seen fit to grant him his greatest desire. “I love you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He extends a shaky hand, Ecthelion doesn’t hesitate and takes it. “I didn’t dare hope… I wanted to be you, but I was afraid.”

Ecthelion pulls him forward, gently wrapping his arms around him. “Well, it is me meleth. And I love you too.”

Erestor all but melt into Ecthelion’s strong arms, closes his eyes and allows his senses to fill with the clean and crisp scent that always clings to Ecthelion. He hugs him back. When he finally regains his bearings, he says, “What a way to sweep me off my feet, Lord of the Fountain.”

Ecthelion chuckles and kisses his hair. “My dearest, cleverest Erestor, your courtship is barely beginning.” Another kiss to his hair. “I am glad you wore the robes, one day soon, you’ll wear the colors of my house.”

Erestor gapes, then shakes his head with a smile, “Quite certain of that, Ecthelion?”

Ecthelion laughs, his laughter like music. “Just a very fervent hope my dear.” And he places his hands around Erestor’s face and places a gentle kiss upon his lips.

Erestor all but melts into the kiss, pulls Ecthelion back for another, the feast forgotten. Right now, all that it mattered was this moment, the joy he felt, the love returned and the promise of a future together.

What neither of them see, is a smiling Idril looking at them from one of the windows. She turns away, leaving the lovers to their romance, but she whispers. “About time.”

[hiro-gari]

Watching this short clip of newest music video from Wataru Hatano (Badd’s VA), made me thinking:

What most people don’t know yet is that Badd can actually sings beautifully.

Garou discovered this trivial fact when he heard Badd singing in the shower. His voice range is also good: Badd could do from lullaby or mellow-sounded songs to the screamo metal songs.

Badd usually does the lullaby singing whenever there’s thunderstorm at their place and Zenko was afraid to sleep alone, hence Badd calming Zenko down and made her feels safe with his singing. Garou also likes to lie beside Badd when he was lullabying Zenko and couldn’t help but loving his soothing voice so much.

The latter only when he got frustated after finishing annoying missions, like being snobbish executive’s bodyguard or encountering troublesome monsters. It was hilarious everytime Badd does that kind of screamo singing, Garou was wondering if they should just forming a rock or metal band together instead of doing heroes’ duty.

One time he sings Amai Mask’s song because he always (or forced to) listening Zenko’s favorite playlist on daily basis. Garou casually commented, “You sure do a much better job than him, babe!” while giving him a genuine adoring smile. Badd took it as the most flattering praise from Garou as he felt encouraged. So from that day on, he would be singing more around Garou, as it could improve their mood: Badd doing his secret hobby more freely without being judged and Garou enjoying his boyfriend’s beautiful voice to the fullest.

Imagine Garou decided to join Badd at singing duets when they have shower together, lmao. Truly chaotic and hilarious but still sounds beautiful.

Then at some point, there was a rather big television studio inviting S-Class heroes to be the guests for their new summer program. The plan was originally only having a talkshow night along with usual interviews, but the studio asking someone among S-Class heroes to be a volunteer singer for a short promotional music video clip.

All of them agreed to attend the talkshow night, but nobody dared to volunteer as a singer. Either too shy/embarassed that they couldn’t sing, have performance anxiety, or don’t like singing at all. Suddenly Garou suggested that Badd would do it since he got a nice voice and wonderful performance acts. Which resulted in Badd being combusted immediately and spluttered on why did Garou exposed his secret ability.

Garou said he wanted people to appreciate him and his skill, that Badd also has good talent beside being a courageous hero. Also, why not seeing the softer side of Metal Bat doing adorable singing performance on TV?

Badd wont admit it but Garou has a real good point, also felt happy that Garou always being a very supportive boyfriend to him. Thus it was decided that Badd would be the volunteer, saving all the S-Class heroes’ face from ruining the genuine offering.

Before the recording days, the TV program gave Badd the script for video performance, the song lyrics, and the demo song sample from the producer. It has summer-vibe theme, coincidentally also suits perfectly to Badd’s real image as a summer boy. Badd thought the song was actually pretty cute and high-spirited, too. He was sure he could do it easily with some improvisation acting, based on what he feels about the song lyrics.

Badd only needed 2 days (in his sparetime after daily hero patrol) to memorize the song and singing it perfectly. Of course Garou never missed to watch Badd’s practices at home or at the studio, as he always accompanied Badd on each scheduled time.

The recording day has come, imagine Badd’s performance for the song was like in the video above, just like what Wataru Hatano did.. 🎤🎶🌻☀

Everyone was very satisfied with Badd’s surprisingly skillful singing performance, including Garou who was so proud of him from outside recording room. He immediately gave Badd standing ovation on the spot, then hugging him tightly and kissing him passionately once Badd finished the recording session in front of people. PDA be damned Garou just wanted to appreciate his smol amazing lover.

The short music video was officially aired during the talkshow night, shocking both the whole audiences at the studio (including the S-Class heroes) or audiences from home who watched the live TV program (like Zenko). It was surprisingly also got so many views and likes when the video was uploaded at Ytube, not to mention being shared a lot on multiple social medias. Until Badd’s MV become the trending topic for 2 weeks straight, beating Amai Mask’s own newly released MV at that month.

People have been asking Badd if he would ever consider a singing career outside his current job. Badd answered he was actually feel comfortable and satisfied working as an S-Class hero. That no matter how hard and dangerous it seems, he still proud of his job. It’s what he means to be: saving people’s life. So, the answer is a Big No.

Badd only consider singing as his hobby, not his job. Besides, his singing voice is only reserved for his special people in his heart: Zenko and Garou. Only both of them who get free pass on enjoying his voice. Badd ended his public speech by giving a lingering soft kiss on Garou’s cheek and tender yet bright smile, saying that he’s very grateful for having such a supportive boyfriend on his side..

———————-

How was it? I hope the headcanon doesn’t sounds too weird hehe 😅💦

Since knowing Badd’s VA is Wataru Hatano, who often singing some anime’s OST beside voicing characters, I was thinking what if Badd also can sing beautifully like him?? 😳💕

If Amai Mask who is voiced by the famous Mamoru Miyano can sing in canon as an idol hero, why not Badd, too?? Since Wataru Hatano is also quite famous for his singing voice, y'know.. 👀✨

Besides, I think Garou would absolutely indulging on listening Badd’s beautiful voice at every possible chance, encouraging him even joined singing along with Badd happily. Just being lovable dumbass couple together, lmao!

As always, big thank you for: @hiro-gari, @the-goddessfighter, @kaincuro, @guby1620, @garous-nipple, @jusqu-une-etudiante, and @lovelybutnot-ablankcanvas, also ofc all of Batarou shippers in the fandom! 😆❤💜💙💖🌸🌻🌷💐

I know I’m just a very amateur writer who couldn’t ever make impressionable writing, which usually resembled like some shitposting, I’m so sorry for that. But I hope you still enjoyed this silly headcanon of mine :“”) Have nice days, guys~ 😌💕💓

-Little1993lamb-

—————————

~Lilia:

first of all exCUSE me I had no idea this was Badd’s VA omfg he’s??? amazing?? I love him 😭💖

Omg Badd singing lullabies to Zenko that’s so soft🥺🥺 his voice is deep and soothing he’d be so relaxing to listen to awww

asfdksdkfs Garou totally volunteered him with NO hesitation 😂😂 Yaaaas Badd >>>> Amai 👏😤 like sure they’ve both got good vocals but Amai’s personality is... you know... So happy Badd put him in his place even if it was only for a couple weeks, Garou gotta be so proud :’)

Thank you so much this is cute as hell asgdjskks 💕 DW anon I love your headcanons !!

[hallospaceboyy]

I Have Faith in You Part 2

Part 1

Y/N must make a decision regarding the two women she is most fond of, a choice between the old flame and the new.

As well as taking refuge at the Mortuary, residing there in the room only next door to yours, Lilith has been spending a lot of time at the Academy, working alongside you and Zelda. There's always a palpable tension in the room when the two women are together, and it’s like child’s play, the way they battle for your attention. Zelda stiffens every time Lilith's hand brushes yours, or gently strokes your waist when she walks past you, and Lilith the same when Zelda touches you.

You’re torn between the women, torn by the past you have with Zelda, the feelings you still harbour for her, and your growing feelings for Lilith. The demoness has been nothing but nice to you. The effort she went to flatter you was superfluous considering you were fond of the woman even before you met her, a devoted follower as soon as she had risen as Queen.

Zelda on the other hand, had been the complete opposite. When alone she remains implacable, barely shares two words with you, wont meet your eyes. She only touches you when Lilith is present, to spark jealousy in the demoness. She seems to find it amusing, for it’s the only time you see her smile, when Lilith fixes her with a glare at the redhead's hands on you. It's becoming irksome, this dance between the two of them, and you know that a choice must be made.

You and Lilith departed from the Academy early, leaving Zelda to her incisiveness, had both grown tired of her short temper. As soon as you pass the threshold of the house, Lilith stills you with a light grip on your forearm, and you turn to her, searching her bright blue eyes.

“May I ask you something?” Lilith asks, and her thumb strokes your bare skin, raising goosebumps there.

You nod, frowning slightly at the sudden tentativeness of the woman.

“Has Zelda ever been kind to you? Ever treated you with love?”

You’re taken aback by the question, eyes shifting to the rug at your feet. She hadn’t, really. Your sexual encounters with the witch had only occasionally been tender, but that was the only time she ever showed any fondness for you beyond taking you to her bed for carnal pleasures.

“Occasionally. But only in the bedroom, when it benefits her to do so. She’s always been... hard to read. I don’t know.” You shrug, huffing a cynical laugh.

“But you still care for her?”

“Yes. But I care for you too. Very much.”

Lilith seems mildly surprised by that, eyes widening in realisation at the meaning of your words, but she collects herself, an affectionate smile curling at her red lips. Her hands fall to your waist, strong, slender arms wrapping around you and pulling you against her. Her hot breath ghosts your lips, and you part them in anticipation, eyes hooded as you gaze into hers.

“Kiss me.” You whisper, and she does, soft lips caressing yours, gentle at first, and then harder, her sharp teeth nipping at your lip, then her tongue soothing it. You whine against her mouth, wrapping you arms around her neck and tangling your fingers into her mane of hair.

The front door opens, and you make to pull away, but Lilith holds you fast against her, inhibiting your movements. You turn your head, still breathless from the kiss, and meet Zelda's eyes, and the hardness in them makes you swallow thickly.

“Don’t let me interrupt. It's clear where your affections now lie, Y/N.” She slams the door closed, and her eyes fall down to your red stained lips, the remnants of the demoness' kiss, and she sneers, striding past you both with an angry stance.

You sigh and rest your forehead against Lilith's, closing your eyes. “You aren't being unfaithful, darling. She never asked you to be hers. She merely expected your devotion, without thought to giving you anything in return.”

You hum in affirmation at that, for it's true. Zelda had never claimed you as hers beyond the marks she left on your skin. But the redhead is intoxicating, addictive, kept you going back despite how self destructive it was to do so, to allow yourself to fall for her further.

“I have to go and speak to her. It can’t keep going on like this.”

“And what will you say?” Lilith looks scared now, like a frightened deer, a pleading in her eyes that makes your heart constrict in your chest.

“Would you be willing to share, Lilith?”

She doesn’t seem at all surprised by this, seems to know that it would be too hard for you to give up the redhead. You study her face as she ponders, biting your lip. Her hand comes up to your face, and she wipes at your lips, removing the stains she’s left there.

“I'll be happy if you are happy, my love. Any part of you that you are willing to give me, I shall treasure.” The smile she offers is genuine, and you kiss at her thumb, still stroking your lips. You search her eyes for any sign that the reply is forced, but find none. “Go and speak to her darling. Although I don’t think she will be as easily persuaded.”

You pull from her grasp, exhaling shakily, and Lilith takes your hand and squeezes it reassuringly. You squeeze back, and then leave her to go in search of Zelda. You find her sat at the kitchen table, puffing at a cigarette in the holder balanced on her fingers. She fixes you with a withering glare when you enter the room, but you don’t recoil. Pulling out the chair closest to her, you sit at her side, clasping your hands together in front of you on the table. You see her taking in the nervous movements of your hands, twiddling your thumbs in an effort to calm yourself.

“Do you even care for me at all, Zelda?” You ask, and your voice comes out stronger than you had thought it would, loud in the heavy stillness of the room.

Zelda fails to hide the surprise at your query, her eyebrows raising. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Because if you do, you have a funny way of showing it.” You snap, glaring at her now, anger and indignation rising within you.

She stubs out her cigarette and slams the holder onto the table, but you don’t flinch, had expected her to react as such. Zelda always resorted to the slamming of doors, the violent mistreatment of various objects in her anger, as a child does.

“If I didn’t care for you, do you really think I would have allowed her to stay.” She sneers as she says this, and you clench your jaw. “If I cared nothing for you, I would have shown you both the door. I would have let you leave with her, wouldn't I?” She is shaking with anger now, and you clench your fists, taking a deep breath.

“I don't know Zelda, would you? You seem to find some satisfaction in treating me as some object that is yours to claim. Haven't so much as touched me in weeks unless it’s to spark jealousy in Lilith. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your little game. I’m not simple.”

“Lilith has acted no differently.”

“Oh, but she has. Where you only show me anything that so much resembles fondness when she is present, Lilith treats me just the same when you aren’t around. She's still just as soft, just as kind. You seem to be restricted to only acknowledging my existence to get a rise out of her. Why do you think it works, Zelda? Because it infuriates her that you would use me like that, infuriates her that I care for you so deeply and you’re too blind to see it, or just too cruel to care!” Your voice is raised now, the nuance most definitely resonating to where Lilith is likely still standing in the entrance hall.

The anger pent up in Zelda seems to visibly dissipate then, and she slumps in her chair, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. The sudden change in her surprises you, and you watch her carefully.

“You’re right. I have been quite abhorrent, haven’t I?” She meets your eyes, and there is a look of defeat present in them, and your own fury previously aimed at her seems to float away. “So, you choose her. Is that what you’re telling me?”

Lilith enters the room then, and takes the chair beside you, and Zelda frowns but says nothing.

“No, Zelda. I want to choose both of you. But I can’t if you two are going to keep sniping at each other, and I certainly can’t if you’re going to remain so cold. You may as well push me into Lilith's arms if you’re going to keep treating me with such indifference.”

Zelda sighs, and her warm hand clasps yours, and she brings it up to her mouth and kisses your palm, your wrist. “Come here, darling.” She pushes back her chair and gently pulls you into her lap, and you wrap your arms around her neck, twirl her curls around your fingers as you gaze into her eyes. When you glance at Lilith she is smiling, watching the exchange with affection, and you know that you were right in assuming that her anger toward the witch was not of jealousy, but her mistreatment of you.

Zelda cups your cheek, stroking your cheek, and she presses a gentle kiss to your lips, tongue caressing at them, and you greet it with your own, melting into her. When you pull apart the fondness in her eyes is so palpable it takes your breath away, and you smile.

“I'm sorry, baby. Your feelings were never one sided. I was just... frightened. I'm not the best at feelings, I must admit. It was easier for me to keep you at arms length. Then I was angry at your defiance of me when Lilith turned up on our doorstep. I felt emasculated, that you seemed to place more faith in her than in me, in my judgement. I should never have treated you so unfairly.”

“You’re forgiven. But you’ve got a lot of making up to do, Directrix Spellman.” You murmur against her lips, and she chuckles, squeezing you in her grasp. “I have faith in both of you. You're both powerful, and amazing, and admirable. Both so strong.” You feel a warm hand on your shoulder, and look up to see Lilith standing there, and she leans down and bestows a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I think we can learn to see eye to eye to make our girl happy, don’t you, Zelda?” She drawls, and she places another hand on the redhead's shoulder. You’re shocked when she doesn’t stiffen, and sends Lilith a smirk.

“Oh, I should think so.”

[wingfics]

just gave myself space buns for the first time and i'm thinking about reactions to it. specifically ignis, haru, and aymeric. word of warning these all get longer as i go bc i cannot be stopped <3

ignis just goes Straight As A Board when he sees them. he can't stop staring for a good thirty seconds. he can't even lie to himself about it. the circumstances surrounding this moment are entirely unremarkable within the context of their lives: an impromptu camping trip, a long drive into the mountains north of insomnia. as per usual, gladio was the only one to dress in anything resembling camping attire (although prompto had certainly made an effort with his new cargo shorts), but for the occasion, helenis had seen fit to dust off their high waisted shorts and baseball cap, likely stolen from noctis. (he's honestly pretty proud of how he manages to keep his eyes above their shoulders for most of the morning.) on the drive, helenis had pulled their hair into a ponytail, pretending not to notice as prompto braided and unbraided a lock of it. now, however, as helenis leans back to back with noct, posing for a photo with their brother, ignis just cannot stop staring. he's grown up around helenis, he's fairly sure he's immune to their... everything by this point (don't dwell on that don't dwell on that do NOT dwell on that), but he can still feel the pink climbing up his cheeks. worse still, his gaze slips unbidden to the line of their thighs, stretched out in a wholly artificial arrangement that only accentuates the arch of their back and the curve of their- a click from the camera spares him that line of thought and brings him crashing back into the present. fortunately for him, helenis doesn't seem to notice his thrall, still entirely focused on prompto and the camera. by the g-ds, that pout could start and stop wars. noct, however, is not nearly so beneficent in his ignorance. "see something interesting, specs?" the smug drawl does little to curb ignis' flush, but he's proud of his composure when he finds the breath to respond: "is that hairstyle new, helenis?" they brighten instantly the second their gaze meets his. "yeah! i've never tried it before, but i think my hair is long enough now- wh- hey!" distracted by the click of prompto's camera, helenis lunges for him, swiping at his camera with the typical care to make sure it didn't actually get damaged. safely freed from the floodlight of their attention, ignis finally breathes out for the first time in a while--how long had he been holding his breath?--and musters up as threatening of a squint as he can at noct's lazy, knowing cheshire grin. "not a word, noctis."

haurchefant very noticeably stumbles when he sees calanthe leaning on the edge of his desk, dark hair swept into two low buns instead of their regular braid. "dear warrior!" he gasps, scrambling with the stack of parchment that has almost slipped from his hands. "how fortuitous it is to see you again! what brings you to camp dragonhead?" calanthe looks up from the paperwork on his desk, and even after months, haru's breath still hitches when purple meets blue. they smile that small, familiar smile, ears swivelling to face him, and he hurries to set down the parchment on his desk before setting a hand on calanthe's shoulder. the muscle under his fingers shifts, but they don't seem uncomfortable with his touch. he can't help but beam at them, basking in his friend's undivided attention and returning it in kind. oh right, the buns! he inspects them more closely. "i must ask, are those a new trend?" he asks, nodding to their hair. calanthe's smile widens into something adorably close to a grin, one ear flicking in poorly-stifled affection. "no, merely a style i wanted to try. do you like it?" haurchefant couldn't stop his smile from broadening if he tried. "'like it?' why, i'm utterly taken by them, my friend! i wrongly assumed that you could not get more breathtaking, but let it be said that i have never been more pleased to be wrong." by the end of his little declaration, cal's eyes have narrowed affectionately at him, their tail twitching where it's curled around his back. "flatterer," they accuse without much heat. "but of course! lest my dear hero go unappreciated and their praises unsung!"

aymeric looks up from a zoning ordinance and directly into the wine-dark gaze of his warrior, this time blanketed in gentle reproach. "aymes, it's quarter til." he blinks once, twice at this before glancing over to the clock on his desk (a "gift", aka thinly veiled threat, from lucia) and grappling for a frankly embarrassing amount of time with the numbers, startling when he realises that it's a quarter til two, not midnight. "oh," he sighs, rubbing at his eyes and blinking away their sudden sandpaper. the lord speaker, reduced to monosyllables in front of the person of his affections. how far he has fallen in his creeping exhaustion. he's brought rapidly back to reality by cal snapping their fingers just under his nose, snapping him out of a sleepy daze that he hadn't noticed he'd fallen into. "hmm? oh, yes. i should certainly sleep. rest assured my dear, i will turn in for the night soon," he says, waving a limp wrist at the couch in the corner of his office. it's not the most forgiving surface, but it's vaguely horizontal and not covered in live bees. he's certainly slept in more uncomfortable places. "not so," cal hums, following his line of sight and stepping in between him and the couch. he looks up at them again, brow furrowing. "oh no- i assure you, dear friend, that the couch is more than adequate. i will be fine left to mine own devices." cal hums again, eyes sharpening, before their hand darts out to grab his wrist as he makes to shuffle through the remaining paperwork. "i'm afraid i'm insisting, lord speaker." their grip and gaze soften before they continue, "i will see you back to house borel before the second bell, or i will not go at all." aymeric can do nothing but gape at them for a moment, tired brain finally stunned into silence. "but- i must protest-" he tries, only to be silenced by calanthe's exhausted sigh. "ser aymeric. come with me. i would not make the walk back to house fortemps alone at this hour besides." halone be damned. for all calanthe's insistence that they'd make for a poor politician, they certainly know all of the ways to get him out from behind his desk. on the next exhale, aymeric allows the tension to drain from his shoulders, rolling his neck a couple of times before setting about tidying his desk. calanthe smiles.

as aymeric stands, the last of his work set aside for tomorrow (well, later today), he gratefully takes calanthe's proferred hand and allows himself to be tugged close to their side- and stumbles for a moment. are those... buns? cal blinks at him before responding with a drawn out "yes". whoops. he hadn't meant to ask that aloud. he must be even more tired than he'd thought. abandoning all pretense, he squints at his warrior's hair, wondering at the thought process behind it. "they're very.... fetching," he offers, and the way cal's nose wrinkles is counterintuitively endearing. "fetching?" they echo incredulously. "the best word you came up with is 'fetching'? twelve, you really are tired, aren't you..." aymeric shakes his head comically quickly, wincing as a headache starts to make itself known, before clarifying, "forgive me, dear, i thought you'd find the descriptor of 'adorable' disagreeable, no matter how truthful." though their face remains neutral, cal's ears betray them: one flicks back, a self-conscious response to flattery that aymeric picked up on quickly in the presence of lord haurchefant. "they're quite distinctive, too," he continues, still trying to find non-patronising adjectives, but calanthe cuts him off with a shake of their head and a fond half-smile. "oh, come on. off with you. estinien is likely still waiting." at aymeric's look of surprise, their smile grows a smirk. "yes, indeed. after accompanying me here, he issued a thinly veiled threat to make you come home before lauching himself over the rooftops back home. you know his wont." aymeric drops his head, chuckling at his feet before squeezing calanthe's hand again. as they lead him to the door, he thinks of his warrior of light, of his wayward dragoon waiting for him, and takes naught but a moment to lock the door behind him before setting off home.

[voemae582]

The Truth changes

Chapter 2: The Day

Adrien immediately ran out of the car as soon as he got home and went straight to his room. He threw his bag on the bed and Plagg flew out. "Are you okay kid?"

"We should go check on her."

"Yeah." Plagg surprisingly agreed.

Chat Noir jumped out the window of the Agreste home and through the rain beating down on him making his way to the Dupain Bakery. He landed on the slippery roof and looked in the window. It was dark and no sign of Marinette. He went to the lower levels and checked the bakery only seeing her parents.

He realized she may be at the school for some reason and he headed over. He entered the school from the roof and took shelter from the rain. Chat shook his head like a cat trying to dry itself. The door to his and Marinette's class was open and he heard a noise making him certain someone was in there. Quietly he peeked into the room seeing the small silhouette of his classmate. Her face was barely noticeable in the shadowed class.

A flutter was heard.

Chat Noir saw the black butterfly swaying around Marinette. She noticed it too. Before Chat Noir could rush to her aid, she spoke, stopping him in his tracks. "Hello little guy." The super hero was frozen in disbelief. The akuma flew in front of her face and she talked to it so calmly. She wiped the water from her face and rubbed her eyes before continuing. "Hawkmoth sent you, didn't he?" she asked the rhetorical question. "I don't know what you plan to possess, because it wont be me."

Hawkmoth felt all negative emotion deplete from the young girl. He scorned her way of thinking and called the butterfly back to his lair. The small creature flew away leaving Marinette alone again. Until Chat Noir broke the silence.

"How did you-?"

The voice scared Marinette making her jump. "Chat Noir?" She saw him walk in turning on the lights to the classroom. "W-what are you doing here?"

He scratched the back of his head, "I, uh, saw the akuma while patrolling and followed it!" He said. "More importantly, are you okay?"

She looked away not wanting her super partner to see her in such a state. "I'm fine."

He walked up to her and tried to face her but she kept moving as to not look at him. Finally he gently grabbed her shoulder and turned her in front of him. "Marinette, that akuma..?"

She looked into his green eyes knowing she should explain to him. "I was angry." He let go of her. "I felt abandon, and nothing I do seemed to be right. So many screw ups ran through my head. So I waited." She felt guilty for some reason. "As I waited I realized all the good in my life. My parent's are always there for me. I have friends who understand me." She thought of Chat Noir and Tikki as her friends she could count on. "And even though I was accused and none of them believed me, Adrien did."

Chats ear went up. "Adrien Agreste?"

"Yeah, I know he wanted to help but at the moment I didn't want it. I want to apologize to him. But after all the things that I did or didn't do, I know the one thing I can do right is not get akumatized." She shrugged. "So, I'm okay. Thank you for coming. You and Ladybug must be very diligent at your job." She chuckled.

He held out a hand to her. "Come on, I'll take you home." She took his hand and he took her to her balcony. Before she went in he commented. "You're strong, Marinette." A small smile formed on her lips. "Your bravery can only match up to Ladybug's, and that's really amazing. I've never met someone like her before. I just want you to know, I'll always be there for you."

"I know." Her soft voice could barely be heard through the rain. Chat jumped on the balcony fence. "Chat Noir?" He looked towards her. "Thank you. For taking me home, and everything else." He gave her a salute and ran off.

The next day was the weekend and Marinette was helping her parent's in the bakery. She was at the counter putting new pastries in the glass case when she heard the ring of the doors opening. She looked up to welcome the customers and it was Adrien. 

"Hey Marinette."

"H-how Adrien! Hi are you?"

He looked around the bakery and pointed through the glass case. "Can I get one of these?"

She grabbed the pastry and put it in a sack. He payed for it all the while Marinette was smiling like an idiot. To Adrien he was checking up on her to make sure she was okay and by the way she was acting she seemed fine but just to make sure..... "So I was wondering, if you wanted to go to a photo shoot later today?" He asked.

Marinette nearly died. "R-really!?" Just then her parent's walked in.

"A photo shoot? My how exciting, isn't it Tom?" Sabine said to her husband.

"That would be perfect for you, Marinette." Tom put a fresh batch of bagels on the counter.

Sabine put one in a to go baggy, "You should get going honey." She put the bag in Marinette's hands and pushed her out the door. "Have fun." And shut the door.

Marinette stood outside the bakery still processing what just happened. Adrien laughed. "Well the shoot isn't for a while, wanna go to the park? That's where it'll be, we can hangout while they get set up."

At that moment Marinette broke. She slowly nodded and they started walking. She couldn't believe she was going to the park, alone, with Adrien, and after they were going to his photo shoot. While she was going crazy in her own head Adrien was making conversation about fashion.

With Marinette's luck upon arriving at the park they ran into not only most of the class, but Lila with them, leading the conversation about her journey's in Japan. They seemed to be having a picnic. Lila lit up and waved at Adrien. "Hey! What a coincidence." Marinette paused not wanting to go over there, but Alya was eyeing her and she wanted to talk to her. Lila stood up and greeted them. "I was just telling them about my travels. Marinette, there's no need to have tension between us, I hope you'll stay and join us. Adrien, you'll have a bite right?"

Adrien knew how uncomfortable Marinette was. "Actually, I thought I mentioned I have a photo shoot here today, so I can't eat right now." He hid his pastry in his pocket.

It clicked with Marinette. That's why she's here. Because Adrien was going to be here. "Alya," Marinette looked at her friend. "Can we talk?" Alya and Marinette walked away from the group and Adrien and Nino hung out in the mean time. "I'm sorry for the way things tuned out, but I'm not sorry that I didn't go to Lila's party and I'm not going to apologize for her falling in the rain. I had nothing to do with it. You of all people should know I would never."

"All I know is that you and Lila were talking one minute and she was on the ground the next."

"As my best friend you're supposed to trust me. She threw herself to the ground and blamed me to turn all of you against me." Marinette sighed. "I know that doesn't seem believable but its true, I'd never lie to you." 

"I know your not like that, but I just don't know what you two would have against each other. Come join us at the picnic, it'll be fun."

"Thanks, but I'm going to Adrien's Photo shoot with him."

Alya smiled. "Girl, I want all the details."

The two laughed and walked back to the group. Adrien said bye to Nino and Lila hiddenly became furious about Adrien leaving with her. Marinette and Adrien went across the park where the shoot was being set up. 

For the past hour Marinette forgot all her troubles and indulged herself in the shoot. When she wasn't gawking at Adrien she was taking notes and tips from the professionals. Finally it was time for a lunch break and Adrien and Marinette took a seat on the bench under a shady tree. They were quiet for a few minutes while they ate some snacks that Marinette's parents gave her.

"These are delicious. Your dads a great baker." Adrien said.

"Yours is a great designer." She blurted without really thinking. She knew his dad was kind of absent and cold. "Sorry."

"It's alright." He chuckled. "He is a good designer." He noticed her clutching her sketch book. "May I see it?" He pointed.

She looked down at he book. "Oh, uh, I don't know."

"I'm sure they're great." He slowly took it from her and she let him. He opened it and flipped through the pages. "Wow."

"W-what?"

"These are amazing Marinette." He focused on all the details of each design. "You're amazing." He smiled at her and she blushed fiercely. "Everything about you is amazing, you're brave, smart, kind. You are literally an everyday Ladybug."

There it was, being compared to herself again. Along with Alya always talking about Ladybug she didn't mind but it got tiresome. Marinette was there too, Ladybug got all the attention though, in this case it didn't bother her because it was Adrien complimenting her.

"Man, I think Ladybugs amazing, but you are too."

Marinette looked down at her purse and saw Tikki urging her, it was time. She was going to tell him. She cleared her throat. "A-Adrien!"

He looked up from her sketches to her. "Yes?"

She felt her face over heating and her brain was in chaos. "Uh, y-you like, um I mean I like, I like croissants!" She hit her palm on her face from embarrassment.

"I do too?"

She groaned and shook her head. Marinette took a few deep breaths and composed her thoughts. "No, I mean. I'm sorry... Um, I really, um, I-"

"Yeah..?"

"I like you!" She finally blurted. "I really like you, Adrien." She felt a weight lift off her shoulders and it got easier to say. All of her emotion just came spilling out. "I've liked you for a very long time, and I wanted to tell you so many times. But I was scared." She felt relieved but her body was still shaking uncontrollably with nerves. "I think you're amazing, and kind and perfect. I just like you so much." She spoke so fast she didn't leave space to breath so she gasped for air at the end.

He was shocked and confused but he didn't mean to stay quiet, he just didn't know what to say. He knew she had picture of him but assumed it was all for fashion purposes. Suddenly he said, "I'm sorry." And Marinette's heart dropped. "I'm flattered and it's, it's like an honor to be liked by someone as great as you. Thank you, for thinking of me in such a way, but..." He looked away from her. "I'm in love with someone else. For me, she's the world."

Marinette felt tears about to well up. She nodded and stood up from the bench. "I understand! Um, actually, I promised to help my parent's with some stuff so I can't stay for the rest of your photo shoot. Sorry. I'll see you later, bye!" With that said she ran off back to the bakery before Adrien could stop her.

Unknown to them Lila was hiding behind a tree listening to their conversation. She was pleased to hear Adrien reject Marinette and decided she would pay her a visit later to set her plan in motion.

Marinette wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Tikki popped out of the purse. "You did good Marinette. You were so brave!"

"I knew he liked someone else. It's Kagami. I know it is, it has to be. And I even mentally prepared myself for rejection, but..."

Tikki cuddled Marinette. "I'm so proud of you."

"It hurts so much Tikki."

"I know."

They went into the bakery. Tom and Sabine were surprised to see Marinette back so soon. Sabine went up to her daughter noticing how disheveled she seemed. "Sweety, are you okay?"

She nodded. "I just, uh, wanted to help out today. Besides, the shoot um, finished early!"

"Fantastic, you can help me make some pies!" Tom shouted from the back. Could you give me a hand and bring that bag of flower into the kitchen?"

"Sure thing dad." She lifted the bag and took careful steps not to slip.

"Are you sure you're fine?" Sabine asked one more time.

"I'm okay mom, really. I'm just tired." She took another step and tripped. She dropped the flower all over the floor and on herself. "Oops, sorry Papa. I'm such a clutz. And messy."

"But you make up for it by being kind and talented." Tom said as he brought out the broom. "Why don't you get cleaned up and we'll finish up in here."

After agonizing in self pity for about two hours Marinette had gotten cleaned up and was managing the register waiting for customers to come in. Her and Tikki were sitting at the front desk flipping through a baking magazine to get her mind off the failed confession. It helped that Tikki didn't bring it up and instead encouraged Marinette to bake her a cake and try different cookies. Marinette laughed when Tikki got excited about pastries. For such a tiny godly creature, Tikki was a glutton with a sweet tooth. She wondered if other Kwami's were gluttons.

Her head flung up and Tikki hid when they heard the sound of the shop's bell ring when the door opened. Marinette's day just couldn't get any worse. But there she was, Lila, and her posy, known as most of her class.

"Hey Marinette!" Some of them said as they looked around.

Alya and Nino went to the front and leaned on the counter. "So?" Alya said as Marinette just looked at her blankly. Alya sighed, "Earth to Marinette, what happened with the photo shoot? Adrien said you left early." The way Marinette's face scrunched in pain at the mention of Adrien told Alya everything she needed to know. "Oh girl, are you okay?"

Marinette knew Alya meant well, but she just didn't want to really talk about it. "Yeah."

Nino was obviously confused and slipped away to talk to Kim and Ivan. "You know what, I'm sure Lila's tired already today, her health hasn't been great, so she wouldn't mind if I stay here with you. Lets get ice cream and watch super hero movies! Or better, Ladybug clips!"

"That's exactly what I need." Marinette smiled.

"Alya!" Lila made her way across the room to the counter. "Whats up?"

Marinette frowned at the bug standing in front of her. "Hey Lila, I was just telling Marinette how tired you must be, so I think I'm gonna bounce and chill out here."

Lila was displeased with the news and decided to play the ace up her sleeve. "Oh, I see. I thought we were going to have dinner or something, remember you told me your moms a chef and we could visit her. But I understand if your tired.... Of hanging out with me..."

"I totally forgot, I'm sorry Lila! Of course I want to hangout with you." Alya looked at Marinette apologetic. "I'll come over later tonight, and we'll have a sleep over."

"It's alright Alya, don't push yourself." Alya hugged Marinette and went to Nino to tell him about dinner. "You think your so smart." She hissed at Lila.

Lila looked behind her and saw everyone slowly exiting the shop. "Oh please, you don't have a chance, I win. You're a loser. In fact you're not anything. You never had a chance to win, not with me, not even with Adrien."

"Wha-!?"

"You heard me. And I heard him. He flat out rejected you." Lila laughed. Marinette's face was in totally shock. "That's a nice look for you, but I'm a patron, so why don't you give me a smile."

Alya poked her head in the door, "Lila, everyone's ready, I'll text you later Marinette!"

"See you later Alya." Marinette waved with a fake smile across her face.

"Ill be out in a second." Lila said and Alya left. "As if I'd buy anything in this dingy bakery." She turned to walk out before Marinette could defend her family bakery. Lila stopped at the door holding the handle and tilts her head toward Marinette. "By the way, you have flour on your face." And then she walked out.

Sabine came down at that moment. "Were your classmates here just a moment ago?"

"I'm not feeling good, sorry mama but can you take over?"

"Of course, are you o-"

"I'm fine."

Marinette marched into her room and looked in her body mirror. There was flour on her cheek and nose, along with her clothes. She looked at the tattered apron she still had on. She forgot to take it off before leaving the bakery.

"You look good to me, in fact I could just eat you up." Tikki joked.

Marinette gave her a soft giggle the faded into choked up sobs. She grabbed the corner of the apron and tried to wipe the flour off her face as tears welled up in her eyes. Tikki tried her best to reassure the girl and make her feel better. Eventually Marinette calmed down and ended up on the floor in front of the mirror. 

"How is THAT Ladybug?" She pointed to herself in the reflection. "All I see is an imperfect, messy, nobody."

"Really? I see a good kind girl who try's her best at everything she does. Marinette, you're too hard on yourself. 'Ladybug' is apart of you, she's inside of you. Stay here, I have something for you." Tikki flew out of the room for a moment.

Marinette stood up and sat on her chaise and looked at a magazine with Ladybug on it. "I don't even recognize this girl. It's like my life isn't mine anymore." She put her head in her knees and hugged herself. She clutched the picture of herself as Ladybug. "I didn't ask for this. You're not what I asked for."

Tikki flew in with a badly baked cookie she apparently made when no one was looking. "TADA!" The moment she flew in she froze at the sight of Marinette reaching out to a butterfly. "Marinette?" She noticed her ear rings were on the desk and hid so Hawkmoth wouldn't see her.

"It's a plan." And the black smoke engulfed her.

Marinette opened her eyes and felt nothing but negative emotions. Anger, sadness, loneliness. She looked in the mirror next to her. She wore a female porcelain Chinese mask with red lipstick painted on and a purple butterfly painted on half. Her skin was bone china and she wore a simple pink Chinese empress dress. Her hair was up in two buns tied with a red ribbon. She held in both her hands wooden handles with red thread attached to them, they were the handles used to control string puppets. Those puppets are known as Marionette Dolls.

"Now, poupée de porcelaine, Go, and get me Ladybug and Chat noirs miraculous!"

Porcelain made her way around the room looking at all the pictures and the apron covered in flour and magazines on the super heroine. She lifted her hand and looked at the red strings. "My red string of fate will turn anyone into my Marionette puppets, then they'll have no choice but to tell the truth. And nothing but the truth. It'll turn them into porcelain puppets, and the more they lie, the more cracks they'll get, until they break completely. Once they break, they'll be nothing but mere wood puppets, easy to burn. mindless garbage." Her crystal blue eyes peeked through the black holes where the eyes were on the mask and she sighed. 

Unconsciously she knew Tikki would hear how her powers work. Even akumatized, she hoped Tikki would help her. Luckily she was strong enough to suppress the urge to tell hawkmoth all she knows, but at the same time her evil side didn't want him to know because she wanted to mess with him.

She lifted a picture of herself then set it down and began to sing.

"It's not simple to say Most days I don't recognize me That these shoes and this apron That place and its patrons Have taken more than I gave them It's not easy to know I'm not anything like I used to be Although it's true I was never attention's sweet center I still remember that girl"

Porcelain grabs a scarf off a mannequin and wraps in on herself as she walks past her desk sliding her hand on the surface of it.

"She's imperfect but she tries

She is good but she lies She is hard on herself She is broken and won't ask for help She is messy but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up And baked in a beautiful pie She is gone but she used to be mine"

She twirls and sits on the chaise and leans on it looking at the picture of ladybug on the floor.

"It's not what I asked for Sometimes life just slips in through a back door And carves out a person And makes you believe it's all true And now I've got you And you're not what I asked for If I'm honest I know I would give it all back For a chance to start over And rewrite an ending or two For the girl that I knew"

She stood up abruptly and held a hand to her chest. "Who was  reckless just enough Who gets hurt But who learns how to toughen up when she's bruised And gets used by a man who can't love And then she'll get stuck And be scared of the life that's inside her Growing stronger each day 'Til it finally reminds her To fight just a little To bring back the fire in her eyes That's been gone but used to be mine!...." 

She stood in the center of her room and slowly fell to the floor.

"Used to be mine

She is messy but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie She is gone but she used to be mine....." Porcelain held her handle up and the red thread made a path to find her first target.

[kyliehorsegirl]

Snakes (Michael LangdonxReader)

Author’s Note*** Hello! This is my first Langdon fanfic I hope you like it. I felt inspired by everyone’s wonderful stories. I also took inspiration from my personal animals, so I hope you enjoy!

Michael Langdon x Reader: 2772 words

18 months. 18 months, Y/N was stuck, surrounded by obnoxious rich folk. She never grew up rich, she never lived in a mansion and this? This was not what she wanted. Why was she chosen to be here? What deemed her worthy enough to be here in this place. 

When the missile attacked she was far from any harm. Her family and wonderful creatures on the other hand didn’t make it. Part of her wished she could have stayed with her mother and animals. She didn’t know what kind of information they had on her to even consider allowing her a spot.

“We have been listening to the same song, for 18 fucking months.” Mr. Gallant dramatically fell into the velvet couch. A chorus of groans followed suit.

99% of the world’s population is gone, and these are the people I’m stuck with? Y/N thought to herself. 

With a deep sigh she excused herself from the sitting room, making way to the library. Despite the horrific apocalypse, literature was nothing short of a blessing. The Outpost’s library was full of almost any book you could think of. Y/N walked down the isles gliding her fingertips lightly along every book cover. Once she found herself in the occult section, she gently pulled out a Grimoire. 

Y/N was not a stranger to different beliefs, despite growing up in a rather christian household. Although she considered herself faithful, she was always curious about other religions and practices. Who knows how long she read for? There were no clocks or anything to give her a sense of time. She decided to take the book with her. 

As she retired to her room for the night she set the grimoire down while she stripped of her illustrious gown. The mandatory attire was not something Y/N would typically wear, but she was delighted to wear them nonetheless.

She put herself to bed wearing only a thin slip. She had an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Something is changing. she thought as she let sleep take over her body.

The Following Morning

Sitting down at her spot at the dinner table, Y/N noticed something different. The disgusting cubes they deemed worthy of calling food, was cut in half. 

“This will be our last breakfast together.” Mrs. Venable stated. Expressionless features cast on her face.

“what????” The group was in distress, furious of the news.

“Mrs. Venable? We are already eating less than we need to survive. How are we supposed to live like this?” Y/N was not one for speaking out, but this is a line that should not be crossed.

“Effective measures have to be made. Our rations are low as it is.” Mrs. Venable said matter of fact.

“It’s just a dieting technique.” Evie noted. Groans across the table were vocalized.

“I’m not gonna have this! We are just waiting to die at this point.” Mr. Gallant said shoving himself out of his chair. He stood and threw his plate across the room. The large guard woman made quick work to attain him. In that moment however there was a perimeter breach. Red lights flashed and wailing sirens went off. Everyone rose from their seats and turning their heads to Mrs. Venable. 

“I will take care of this. Please see youselves to your rooms.” with that she made hast with Mrs. Meade elswhere.

“What the hell is even going on?” Andre huffed out. Y/N looked up the staircase with the return of the feeling from the pit of her stomach.

Something is definitely changing. She made way to her own room. 

She remained in her room until dinner. She placed the book down on her nightstand as she heard a scream in another room. She quickly made her way to the source of the scream and saw Mrs. Meade in Emily’s room. In her hands were snakes. 

“Looks like good eating tonight.” Mrs. Meade stated in a rather hick accent. 

At the dinner table covered soup bowls were placed in front of us. Y/N rolled her eyes thinking back to the “Stu” incident. 

“I have a strict rule against eating things with too many legs or no legs.” Coco twitched her nose in disgust.

“O but you had no issue eating something with two legs.” Andre said so melancholy. Speaking of Stu. Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Eat it or don’t. No one is forcing you.” Meade stated. Everyone lifted the lids off the bowls when a strew of snakes slithered across the table. Phasing everyone other than Y/N. 

“Who is here? Who is the person in your room?” Emily boldly questioning Mrs. Venable with total disregard for the snake situation. Mrs. Venable stood in front of the fireplace preparing everyone for the strange intruder. A young man made his presence known as we glided through the hall. You could hear a pin drop. Y/N couldn’t even take a moment to appreciate the silence. Was this the feeling she’s been having? He was a beautiful creature Y/N could easily see that. Although, so could everyone else. It was repulsive how much everyone else was gawking at the intruder.

He was tall, not too tall, but just enough. He had carved cheeks with a strong jawline. His clothes were just as Victorian as the rest of The Outpost’s. 

“My name is Langdon and I represent the cooperative.” His voice floated through the room like silk. 

“I wont’ sugarcoat the situation. Humanity is on the brink of failure. My arrival here is crucial to the survival of civilized life on Earth. The three other compounds in in Syracuse, New York, Beckley, West Virginia and San Angelo, Texas have been overrun and destroyed. We’ve had no contact from the six international outposts, but we are assuming that they too, have been eliminated.” His hands are crossed behind his back. He stands tall and glances at every person in the room. Y/N looks him up and down as she allows herself a small smirk. Should she be afraid of him? Probably, but is she? No, what would be the point. She has been here this long. A change of pace is healthy, even if it means her life.

“There is hope,” this caught everyone’s attention.”there is another facility with enough food and supplies to last over a decade, a sanctuary if you will. I will be instrumental in choosing who will come with me. Those in sanctuary will play part in rebuilding this world.” His movements are so graceful and thought out as he speaks.

“Like who?” Mrs. Meade asks

“Classified.” he simply responds.

“Well what if we don’t want to be interviewed?” 

His eyes darken for a moment and he turns his head to the direction of the voice. His features relax in to a facade of calm. 

“O you don’t have to.” He pulls a vial out of his pocket full of pills. “stay here as the radiation and cancer eat away at your flesh. If hungry cannibals coming knocking, just pop one of these and you will be free of pain and suffering.” he grins. “ The interviews should only take a few days. I could take all of you or none of you.”

“What is this the hunger games.” Coco rebuttals snobbishly.

Langon pays her no mind as he continues “ I look forward to meeting each and every one of you.” ending his gaze on me. Y/N holds her ground and doesn’t break eye contact. This makes him cock his head in a curious way. 

“I’ll go first.” Mr. Gallant says nonchalantly. Almost dragging his gaze away from hers he lazily looks to Gallant.

“And so you shall.” The mysterious Mr. Langdon retreats from the room.

Y/N brings back the grimoire to the library in search for a new book. When its time for her interview she will hold her ground. Be confident, elusive and a bit sexy. What does she have to lose? Sensing a presence behind her, she stays looking forward for a new book. There is a warm breath on the back of her neck. This sends chills down her spine. She turns her head slightly to see Langdon right behind her.

“If you are interested in the occult, maybe you’ll find this intriguing,” He reaches out in front of both of them and places a book in her hands. He glances down at her as she glances down at the book. Demonlology. He backs away from her. Y/N turns around and gives him a smirk. 

“Demonology? That’s an interesting topic. Have you had any experiences with demons Mr. Langdon?” She asks cautiously. She tilts her head to the side and looks up at him behind her lashes.

“Hmm, you could say I’ve experienced them personally.” He eyes her up and down soaking her in. 

“What are you suggesting? Are you a demon Mr. Langdon?” Y/N quickly darts her tongue out to wet her lips. This gesture does not go unnoticed. Rather than respond he smiles ever so slightly and turns to leave. 

“Meet me in my office for your interview Mrs. Y/L/N.” she watches every step he makes as he excited the room. 

The dress she’s is wearing is unlike anything the other choose to wear. It is the deepest shade of purple among all of them. The dress has a bolero style top that buckles in the front of her neck like a collar. Underneath is a flattering keyhole neckline that extenuates her collar bones. The arms are long that tighten at the wrist. From there, its a tight fitted dress with a slight flare to the bottom. Nothing obnoxious like Coco would wear.

Before she has a chance to knock he tells her “come in” odd how he knows she’s already there. He is seated at his desk, elbow on the armrest and hand holding his chin. He looks at her sinfully taking in her ensemble. 

“Have a seat.” she does so. “I will tell you how this is going to work. If you lie, I will know and if you try to trick me, I will know. Something you think could help, can be a hindrance and something you think is completely useless could be exactly what I’m looking for. Are we clear?” he leans forward

“Crystal.” Y/N Smirks and leans back her chair mimicking his movements, elbow on the armrest and hand on her chin. He squints at her and continues.

“Lets go straight for it. What do you miss most?” he now has both elbows on his desk resting his chin on top of his hands.

“Well, out of my family I miss my mother the most.”She pauses for a moment thinking of her mother.

“That’s not what you miss the most is it?” His eyes fixed on her.

““You seem to know everything about everyone. You tell me.” She tilts her head to look at him. Any remorseful feeling of her mother gone. He sighs and leans back.

“No, not your mother. Something else. Tell me.”

“My animals.” Y/N relaxes a bit lowering her shoulders, she didn’t realize were tense. 

“Your animals?” He strokes his chin. The hand is decorated with large silver rings.

“Yes. They gave me security. I turned to them when I felt upset. I’ve never liked people. I found happiness in my animals. I had all kinds of animals; horses, dogs and reptiles.” She smiles and eyes him closely. He raises an eye brow at ‘reptiles’ 

“Reptiles?” 

“Yes, of all my reptiles the snakes were my favorite.” She grins knowingly. He gives her a wicked smirk in exchange.

“Why?”

“Snakes are misunderstood. They are beautiful and elusive creatures that don’t deserve the hate they get. They are kind and gentle but, also not afraid to strike you in the face.” She licks her lips this time. Making it known what she’s doing. He stands up, walking around the table to lean against the desk. 

“Do you find me attractive.”  She is only slightly taken aback, making her to compose her self. She cockily runs a finger along her lips.

“Mr. Langdon, to say I didn’t find you attractive would mean there is something wrong with me. A blind man could appreciate your beauty. Of course I find you attractive. Even for someone with Sociopathic tenancies.” The look on his face shows that she caught him off guard. He makes his way to her chair placing hands on either side of the armrests, entrapping her. His gaze darkens.

“You think I’m a Sociopath?” 

“A sociopath manipulates people. They are just pawns to use and abuse. When they are no longer needed they are done away with. A sociopath is someone who doesn’t have feelings. Perhaps a few.” she stands out of her chair encouraging him to back up.”never remorse.” they back up “hatred” he is up against the desk. He places a gentle hand to caress her cheek. “pride” she leans into his warm touch.” lust” she takes his thumb into her mouth sensually. Her eyes big and bright. She gives a few swirls of her tongue before she removes her mouth from his thumb and her body away from his. 

He seems to be in a trance until he realizes she is no longer in front of him and walking away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Shock still apparent on his face. 

“Feel free to continue the interview.” She looks over her shoulder to wink at him and walks out.

Later in her room, Y/N drops her dress to her feet looking in her vanity. She spots and dark figure in the corner.

“Are you here to finish the interview?” She smirks in the direction of the dark figure. Langdon emerges from the shadows with a hungry look in his eye. He takes advantage of his long stride and grips her throat pinning her to the wall behind them. She makes a quick laugh to him.

“Who are you? I don’t know what you are. I have a weird feeling in my stomach. You are unlike anything I’ve experienced so far. You intrigue me.” He kisses the inside of her ear leaving a trail of lustful kisses along her neckline. Without knowing her own strength Y/N shoves him back. His eyes wide. She stalks him around the room like a cat hunting its prey. She takes light strides towards him. Y/N pushes him on the bed. He could stop her if he wanted to. He doesn’t want to.

“Tell my why you don’t want to be in control?” She crawls on top of him straddling his hips. Running her hands up his chest and down his arm. She whispers into his ear. “ Is it because you are always in control? Do you need release?” She licks the inside of his ear dragging her lips across his porcelain skin. Her kisses have a certain want to them. “You need someone to take over.” She grabs his throat in her small hand and pull down his jacket with the other. She kisses down to his shoulder and bites him leaving a mark where no one could see. He groans and takes a short breath as she licks the mark she made. 

Y/N rolls her hips forward against his groin just to hear him groan again. She returns to kissing his neck as she unbuttons his jacket. With more and more skin exposed she proceeds to kiss and massage every inch of his muscular torso. With his shirt off she takes a moment to admire him.

What the fuck am I doing. She thinks. The sliver of guilt she had melted away as he strokes her side with his large hands. 

“Please I need you.” Its now her turn to give a dark look. She take a glance at his arms and sees gashes up both forearms. Y/N gently runs her fingertip along the length of the cut as she does with the books in the library.. She bends down running her tongue along the cut lapping up any blood remaining. Langdon mews in the process. Exciting Y/N further. Brushing a stray hair out of his face lovingly she admires his face. He carefully reaches his own hand to touch her face. He slowly brings her face to his. Lips meet she holds his face in both hands while he caresses the back of her neck with one hand and pressing on her lower back with the other. Passionately the two kiss lips colliding and tongues intertwined. Breathlessly Y/N pulls away.

“Who are you.” hair falling into her face

“Michael, who are you?” he tucks the hair behind her ear.   

“Y/N.” 

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

I hope you liked it. I’m thinking to make it a series? Or maybe just add a smutty part. Sorry if some of the dialogue or timeline is not exact. A small snip it of this came to mind. It’s 2am because I am Michael Langdon trash. Let me know what you think since this was my first one. Series? Smut? Let me know <3

Ch.2 is out! 

[lurkingcrow]

Fanfiction Trope MASH-UP: 51 and 97, any pairing.

You know anon, you really lucked out. Because I SWORE that the next person to leave out a pairing was going to get Maul/Grievous whether they liked it or not. But as is happens, @generallkenobi managed to wheedle me into contemplating a plot that fits this prompt rather neatly so you’ve been spared the cyborg courtship this time...

So, Time Travel and Accidental Marriage.

It starts with Commander Poe Dameron really wishing that he hadn’t left BB8 behind at base for maintenance. Because he has no idea what the hell that anomaly his X-Wing is being pulled into is, and the General is going to be PISSED if he gets himself killed before they work out exactly what monstrosity the First Order has been hiding in the Unknown Regions... 

He hits the anomaly and suddenly everything is offline and it's a he can do to manage a crash landing on the nearest planet that he SWEARS wasn't there a moment ago!

It's desert. Of course it is. And of course he's injured, not critically but enough that he's going to need medical attention sooner rather than later. But his ship is so badly off that it's all he can do to strip out the emergency supplies, fashion himself some kind of a pack and makeshift crutch and begin walking to find some shelter in the cliffs up ahead.

He's almost there when he sees some kind of commotion, a small number of hooded figures attacking what seems to be a young man with a broken down speeder, and not even stopping to think Poe pulls out the his blaster and does his best to help the kid.

He seems successful, as the figures retreat and Poe does his best to look charming and relatively harmless as he approaches the local.

"You alright?"

The kid's bleeding kind of heavily, but his smile is bright and damn those eyes are blue.

"I will be, thanks to you."

As it happens night is closing in, so they take shelter together in a little alcove. The kid (Luke, he'd introduced himself as) is indeed a local, his speeder having run into mechanical trouble as he was returning home for the day. It's fixable, but the ambush sank his chances of getting it done tonight.

Poe is cautious with his own story, but before he can do much more than mention his crash Luke's eyes light up.

"You're a pilot aren't you? Your gear's from a fighter - are you with the Rebellion?" He asks eagerly.

And ok, it's a little weird that he's using the old name but technically the Resistance is the continuation of the Rebellion, but either way he doesn't seem hostile which is all Poe can want at the moment. Still discretion is the better part of valour.

"Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. Doesn't really matter given I'm not going anywhere soon" Poe responds, gesturing to his crutch.

The kid seems to accept that, and they pass a bit of time quietly together. Until Poe notices that his new friend is shivering, his shirt having been used as makeshift bandages.

(He definitely doesn't think about all that golden skin exposed to the firelight).

"Here, take this." He offers, holding out his jacket, and Luke shakes his head.

"I'll be fine."

And ok, Poe may not always be the coolest of heads but he is a capable and experienced commander and he knows that's a lie.

"Wear it." He repeats, tone allowing no disagreement.

The younger man looks pensive for a moment but, after reassuring gestures from Poe, Luke does so. Poe tries not to think about how good he looks in it.

Good. No hypothermia. What else is on the "desert survival checklist"? Oh. Water. Good he has a full canteen.

Poe takes a mouthful, careful not to overindulge, and then offers it to his companion.

"Drink?"

This time Luke is definitely hesitant and really, what does he think Poe's going to do? Poison him?

With a huff Poe shakes the canteen. "Look, it's fine. There's enough here for both of us to share. Please. Drink."

Luke's face turns distant for a moment, as if weighing up his options before nodding decisively. He turns to look Poe straight in the eyes a gentle smile on his lips.

"I accept your offer." He says, drinking deeply.

(That should not have been as hot as it was. What is with him today?)

Then Luke grins, full of sly humour.

"You realise this makes us married right?"

***

Luke Skywalker is having a very interesting day. He'd been restless since that morning, the urge to take the speeder out stronger than usual, pushing him to finish his chores early so he could sneak out after lunch and head to one of the better racing canyons. Then there had been the itch in the back of his mind, telling him he NEEDED to take the longer route home, which led to the attack by raiders and the very last thing Luke had expected was a handsome rebel pilot emerging from the sand to save his life!

It sounds like something out of a holodrama.

And then it turns out that Poe really is the helpful sort, helping bandage Luke's wounds despite his own injuries and finding them shelter for the night. The part of his brain that sounds a bit like Uncle Owen tells him that he shod be careful, that Poe is still a stranger, but there's another, stronger, part of him, deep in his soul, that tells him this is a Good Man, a person to be trusted.

A hero.

Luke's instincts have never failed him before, and so he allows himself to relax a little. Perhaps if he's never he enough he can convince Poe to take him with him when he leaves.

(Or if not, maybe he can at least get a goodbye kiss, the pilot is so VERY pretty after all)

The jacket is unexpected. It's not as if Poe himself is in much better shape than Luke, there's no real reason for him to... huh.

If he hadn't already been thinking about the traditional stories it would probably have passed him by, but Poe has chosen to defend Luke from his foes, provided him a place at his fire, and freely offered him shelter from the elements, all at his own expense.

Really, all it needs for this to be something out of one of the old romances is...

Water. Poe is offering to SHARE his water.

This can't be real. Luke should just speak up and tell Poe what exactly he's offering...

And that part of him that always seems to know things screams for him to remain silent.

Poe is getting agitated but Luke needs to THINK. There has to be a reason why everything in his soul is telling him to let this happen, he needs to keep this man by his side.

There's logic there too. Poe is going to need help, and time to recover before he can rejoin the Rebellion. But on a planet like Tatooine he's more likely to be sold out to the imperials for a rich reward. But if Luke marries him, it makes Poe FAMILY.

And on Tatooine family is everything.

Well then. It looks like Luke is getting a pretty husband of his own.

He drinks, and the water tastes like destiny.

***

"What do you mean married???" Poe exclaims, eyes wide, before the Kid holds his hands up in a calming motion.

"It's an old tradition, a way of temporarily binding clans together for short periods of mutual protection. If you want we can pretend it never happened and custom says it will dissolve at the next moon's turn regardless. But..."

"But?" Poe asks, and Luke blushes.

"But, if you want a safe place to lie low and heal you're not going to find better than our farm. Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru wont like it, but if you're my husband they're not going to turn you away. When time's up I'll give you a lift to the spaceport and you can do your own way from there."

It's a good offer. There is something distinctly off about this while situation (not so much Luke, who seems pretty damn genuine, but the anomaly and the planet that shouldn't have been there? Definitely wrong.) and he's being offered the chance to get his bearings and mend in relative safety. All is means is having to call the pretty blond his husband.

... ok. He can do that. His father will kill him once he finds out and there's going to be some ribbing back in the squadron, but there are truly worse dates than this

Poe's silence is obviously worrying Luke, who immediately beings apologising and insisting that it doesn't have to be anything more than a in name only thing, and as cute as the babbling is Poe is going to need sleep soon, so he uses a single finger to press against those lips and hush the younger man.

"Why don't we just see where this goes hmm?" He offers with a sincere smile which is soon matched by Luke's own.

"Yeah, ok" Luke breathes (and oh it's really flattering to be looked at like that). "Wait, I just realised, I don't actually know your full name?"

"Under the circumstances," Poe starts, "I think it's probably safer for both of us if I take your name for the time being. So tell me, husband, what's my name?"

And this time Luke's grin is brighter than the twin suns and oh Poe definitely wants him to smile like that always.

"Skywalker. Your name is Poe Skywalker, husband to Luke Skywalker."

Wait.

What?

Hang on.

Oh FORCE!

Poe feels distinctly faint, his new partner's face (Luke. Karking. Skywalker. Young and bright and not even a Rebel yet) watching him worriedly before the darkness rises up to meet him.

What a mess.

...

Yep! There we have it! Just before TFA Poe Dameron meets just before ANH Luke Skywalker and ends up getting hitched. After Luke wakes up Poe from his faint they do indeed end up making it back the farm and Poe does his best to win over the parental figures (which he does, he's helpful and polite and really if it weren't for the fact his existence fosters Luke's desire to leave he would have Beru's full approval). At some point a certain old hermit shows up to scope out if Poe is a threat to Luke...

("You don't belong here." Says Old Ben. "Oh thank the Force, no I really do not!" Poe sighs in relief before spilling the whole story because if anyone is going to know how to fix this it's a JEDI. Poe does NOT want to toy with timelines if he can help it.)

But then of course the Empire comes calling and Poe starts to discover how very different it is BEING in the story to hearing it from someone who was there. On the other hand he gets to travel on the Millenium Falcon and thats something his childhood self could only dream of!

I have more ideas on how this AU fleshed out but it's late and my head aches, so that can be left for next time :)

[purge-that-urge-rhackathon]

Do you read works people gift to you?

I print them out and eat them xD

I’d like to preface this answer by saying first and foremost that I used to work (not fun, i HATED it) in the film industry doing a LOT of jobs, and one of those was doing script coverage. For those unfamiliar with the term, script coverage is where they give you a pile of all these fucking scripts they’re either deciding to buy the rights to, have bought the rights to, or need an abstract written to help them decide whether or not to pursue it to the point of making a film themselves, or releasing their license for someone else to purchase it. One page translates to one minute of screen time, yeah? Do the math there, and most features will be 90-150+ pages.

And that’s where my job came in: having to sit for hours forced to read a lot of shit i didn’t want to (and i was the book-nerd at the library who LOVED new stuff right? i’ve read somewhere around 10,000 books since high school and i read very fast too) so this was something akin to torture for me. I have read a lot of shit. Shit i’m really really glad will never make it to the big screen. Shit that made no sense. Shit that triggered me up and down. Shit in genres not up my alley in the first place. Shit that will never get made because of the abstracts I wrote having to tell the studio how shit it was, in professional-ese. It was a few months in beverly hills of doing that before my ass quit.

So while i really appreciate the shit out of the intentions, and goddamn am i grateful and flattered as fuck someone might want to gift me something, unless you know me, like really intimately (maybe only 5 people on this site i’d say, and they know who they are), it’s something very hard for me to accept and the ensuing anxiety over trying not to be an ungrateful bastard or be mean at all just because its not up my alley, and the pressure to hopefully not discourage someone (and i NEVER want to discourage someone, i really really want people to have fun doing what they do!) just really makes gift fic an unpleasant experience for me.

It’s like… it’s different from fanart. Fanart you see the thing and BOOM. You know its for you or not. And even if its not, you can usually pretty easily complement the color scheme or technical skill or find something about it to be nice and gracious over.

The written word is not like this. Sometimes you’ll begin to read a thing and know right away it is not for you, and you need to get out of there. I take it one step further in my judgmentalness: if the grammar is really bad, i won’t read it. If the visual structure (no paragraph breaks, for example) isn’t proper, i won’t read it. If they keep misspelling the same word or someone’s name, it drives me nuts to the point of not reading further. If things start taking a turn I don’t like, or gets too wordy or too descriptive (OR lacks such), i won’t read it. More to the point, if the general subject matter is not up my alley, i wont read it. If the portrayal of the characters isn’t something i like, or squicks me, i wont read it. I have a list as long as the day of dealbreakers for myself. 

I mean i think we can just sum this up to why some people will read certain authors and some won’t, right? We can all understand our own unique tastes.

When I’m gifted a fic, I feel like i am back in that old-ass chair with a pile of scripts dreading what is to come. I have no choice. It’s a gift, and the nature of a gift is you must be gracious even if you don’t like it. I think that’s asking a LOT of someone who didn’t ask for the thing. Especially if it’s a longer fic, or lord forbid multi-chaptered. It’s like, i didn’t sign up for this ride, please don’t make me ride this ride, i want off. It’s nothing on the person who wrote the thing, and everything on me. I am picky. I have a lot of deal breakers. And I don’t like to lie. I really really don’t like to lie. And forcing my hand with something like that and telling someone false things and also having to have that in my brain for however long it takes to read it? Instant panic attack. It’s one of my triggers, and i know it is.

A coworker last year asked me to do script coverage for him because i lived in japan for 4 years, and his script was focused on some japanese stuff… and was so goddamn outlandish like i didn’t know what to say to him. It put me in a position i didn’t want to be in. How to be nice and still be friends, but also delicate about his art? It’s not a good place to put someone. I had a lot of panic attacks before I had to tell him I WILL ONLY TRANSLATE YOUR JAPANESE FOR YOU I DONT HAVE TIME TO READ THIS. And we haven’t spoken about it since.

Art is subjective, yes, but I would say writing is far more subjective. It’s not a visual medium. It’s a lot more about technical skill. And then you get into the story content and choice of words there. Unless you’re one of those 5 people I mentioned earlier, anon, chances are you don’t know my precise triggers and my very specific tastes as to what i’ll read. What I write and what I read aren’t necessarily related.

I see gift fic kind of as someone telling you to come over and watch a movie. You don’t get to choose the movie. The person who had you come over does, and they’re really excited about it only for you to find out its something you do NOT want to sit and waste part of your life with… but this is someone you wanna be nice to but god the suffering… i think we’ve all had some sort of experience like that. But dial it up a notch or three and toss in panic disorder and you have me.

I don’t like to be forced to have to read something i didn’t actively search out myself. It’s part of the reason i REALLY hate people asking me to ‘look over’ their fics for them. I am of course extremely flattered, but im a hack writer and my word isn’t better than anyone else’s, and i know there are beta readers out there who actively like to do the thing. But i have neither the time nor inclination to read something i didn’t pick myself. Like someone buying you clothes. They might know your size but then the style could not be to your liking, or maybe the size and style is just fine but the material is scratchy and rubs you the wrong way. It’s probably better off not buying someone clothes, yeah?

I think i’ve been pretty thorough explaining myself and my background with the whole idea and my thought process as to why i don’t necessarily like gift fic, anon. When it happens, i’ll usually click it, but it puts me in a fucking horrid situation i will do anything to get out of. I’ve had people do it in the past in order to try and get my ‘attention’ and manipulate me to promote them (and then i stopped writing for about 9 years) and i’ve already stated i’ll promote anyone who needs it, but just the whole idea behind gift fic rubs me the wrong way. And because of my severe anxiety and not wanting to possibly be misunderstood on the topic, you’ve gotten an epic written back about the hows and whys and the history behind me hating unsolicted fic recs… gift fic is kind of in the same category for me.

You can dedicate shit to me left and right if i’ve inspired you, that’s really bitchin and i’m glad! Just… don’t force me to have to read it, or put me in a position where you’re like “Hey i gifted this go read it. Did you read it? What did you think?” That is my LITERAL nightmare. Aside from very-real time constraints as i am a bartender and dont have all the free tie in the world, I’ve really gotta put my mental health as my main priority. I’m really really sorry if this hurts anyone’s feelings :( That’s clearly not my intent by the massive text wall i’ve written, but i just want to be fully understood that its not coming out of a place of unkindness, but more of mental self-preservation and aversion to situations which have triggered panic attacks in the past.

I hope i’ve been clear somewhat D:

[glowstickhaloboy]

part 2 of that au where lance is a night vision mermaid

hi im back

link to part 1

the next night, keith is waiting when lance sneaks up to the surface. who knows how long hes been sitting on that rock, but he looks massively bored as lance comes out of the water. then he all but lights up. “you came back.”

lance tilts his head to the side. “stop saying things that will ruin my reputation.”

“i didnt know if you would. i thought i might have been c-”

“did you tell anyone about this?” asks lance.

keith shakes his head, shuffles to the very edge of the rock. “no one. please tell me your name.”

“first,” says lance, “i need to know something. why are you out here? you said you were after knowledge, but for what purposes?”

“what do you mean?”

“what kind of knowledge?”

“anything,” keith breathes, leaning closer. the moonlight shines in his eyes and hair. hes so dry, yet he glows. “everything.”

“and what do you plan to do with it?”

again, that question stumps keith. he sits back on his feet. “i...”

so far, this is going well.

“i’ll tell you,” lance asserts, puffing himself up to his full impressiveness. “nothing. youre going to do nothing with this knowledge except keep it for yourself. any secret i trust you with is meant for you, not your animalistic human world. no publications, no research teams, no clamoring for more evidence to build an arsenal of strategy against my people. and, as always, i decide that if i no longer trust you, i get to drown you.”

keith’s throat bobs at that last statement, but it seems bravery has a furnished home inside his chest. he nods. “i wont betray you,” he says. “not even to my team, if you dont want.”

“no, not even your team. you’ll have to come up with excuses for them.”

keith nods again.

“and one more thing,” lance continues. “i dont think its fair that these secrets are free. youre cute, but youre not that cute. so, heres how itll work: you tell me something about you, and i’ll tell you something about me, and when you get tired or the sun starts to come up, i’ll go back under the surface and we’ll meet again when it gets dark. does midnight sound fair?”

keith begins to nod another time, but stops himself. “hold on,” he says. “will you tell me the truth? i have no way of knowing.”

“of course,” says lance. “mermaids cant lie.”

skeptical, keith narrows his eyes, the cogs visibly turning in his head.

lance snorts. “yeah, that wasnt true. but,” he says, drawing close enough that he could drop his voice to a murmur, “i have no reason to lie to you if i know you arent going to tell anyone else.”

keith accepts this. “can i ask questions if i want to know something specific?”

“yes.”

“okay,” says keith. “you said i go first, so what do you want to know about me?”

“what,” says lance, “is it like to walk on those ungodly tools you call legs???”

keith pulls his knee up to his chest. “this? it’s like... well, its different from swimming. ive been swimming before but, uh,, still had to use these to do it, so i dont really know how to describe it. its like... walking?”

“you,” lance says flatly, “are not the most intellectually evolved of your species, are you?”

“i hunt mermaids for a living because i cant get a real job.”

“can i feel it?”

“what?”

“can i feel your leg?”

if this is a weird request, it cannot possibly be weirder than the event of meeting a mermaid, so keith is unfazed by it. “yeah, sure.”

he sticks his leg out over the water. lance is, at first, a little intimidated by the straightness and inflexibility of it, but eventually he decides that it is basically like a bigger, stronger arm and that humans are very weird. satisfied, he and keith both withdraw.

“okay,” says keith, with the air of somebody about to do something very important after an absurdly long amount of waiting. “what is your name?”

lance smiles. “lance.”

it’s like lance has applied salve to a wound. keith closes his eyes and breathes out through his nose. his shoulders relax. “youre real,” he says, like he just found this out.

“gee, you sure know how to flatter a fish.”

but it starts the conversation. keith tells lance about the practice of cryptozoology and lance tells keith about ocean-bottom culture. keith talks about growing up and going to school, and lance talks about being raised by a family bigger than keith could imagine and learning to provide for each other. keith explains war and lance explains peace.

from there, they go on to ask more personal questions. who is hunk and why would he be upset if he knew you were here? what made you so fascinated with mermaids that you decided to vacation on a rock? keiths eyelids start to droop. lance is getting a little fatigued himself. this conversation is putting even his talking skills to the test, and keiths throat has gone scratchy. its nice. theyre both relaxed. lance becomes aware of how completely comfortable he is.

“its late,” lance says at last. “you dont want your friends to wake and catch you out of your reef. er, bed?”

keith has this look in his eye like hes worried to let lance go in case he doesnt come back.

lance yawns and says, “midnight.”

then he dives under the water.

its strange to think about, but being fully submerged again feels weird after having his head sticking out into the air for four hours. the water is warm on his face. he cant wait to get back to his reef and crash.

except hunk is waiting for him there.

“dude,” he says. “where’ve you been?”

lance’s heart does backflips. WHAT DOES HE SAY?

“hunk,” he says. “you’re here!”

“yeah,” says hunk.

lance tries again for better wording. “what are you doing here?”

“looking for you?? at your house????”

and lance is like, well im fucked.

“i was out,” he hedges. “with, uh, someone.”

“lance, if that were true, you would be over the moon right now and i would have known about it for days because you would never have shut up about it!”

“thats not true! and besides, i wasnt with him like that. well, maybe i was, i dont know... im kind of confused about it.”

“really? you wanna talk about it?”

no.

he doesnt have to fake a yawn. “actually, buddy, i would, but i am super beat. i’ll tell you all about him when i know whats going on. oh, was there something you wanted?”

“just checking in on you. you havent tried sneaking back up to the surface have you?”

“why would you ask me that?”

“because your brain is the ocean’s strongest magnet for horrible ideas.”

“well thanks,” says lance, a little colder than he otherwise would have been. “and i’ll have you know that i have not been to the surface. it’s totally overrated. who’d want to be walking up there on a pair of lame, clunky legs? goodnight, buddy.”

hunk leaves lance to his rest.

and the next night, keith looks different. hes in shorts, the lunatic, with no shirt on and a towel draped around his shoulders.

“what are you doing?” asks lance.

keith merely grunts and slides into the water. he takes a few shuddering breaths and paddles closer to lance.

“i wanted to,” says keith. he holds out an arm. under the waves, lance can feel his clumsy feet kicking and kicking and kicking.

“you know how far down the sea floor is, dont you?” asks lance.

keith says, “im not stupid. i’ll get back on the rock if my legs get tired.”

Legs, Lance thinks with contempt.

“well,” he says, “if youre getting that close, i want to be able to touch you.”

“why do you think i did this?”

and its a great idea until it isnt. it starts off with lance feeling like someone is taking a big risk to be close to him, and his heart tries for a complicated swelling motion before lance manually tamps it down again. he looks at keith’s face and instead of seeing a face which happens to be clearly human, he sees all the fragile features that make it human, and an overwhelming need to protect their delicacy suddenly rises in him.

what simultaneously rises is a wave so strong that it folds over keith and drags him under the water. 

lance’s instincts take control. like lightning, he dives under the water, snatches keith’s arm, and drags him back up to his rock, where he sets him and retreats. keith coughs up water, shaking, and reaches for his towel.

“are you alright?” asks lance.

“you saved me,” says keith, like he cant believe it.

“well, yeah.”

unexpectedly, keith grins at him. “i thought i was just a boring human,” he says. “thought you didnt care if i drowned.”

lance feels an alien heat rise in his cheeks. is the above-surface air getting to him?

“i said i would be the one to drown you,” he argues. “i think thats enough for tonight. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

keiths mouth falls open in protest, but before he can say anything else, lance disappears. he doesnt stop swimming until hes back down at his reef, and even then he feels like the whole ocean can hear his heart hammering. he had saved keith. why had he done that? because he wasnt a bad person, obviously. he wasnt going to just stand by and watch an innocent man die.

but there was something deeper. something that he could not explain and therefore elected to ignore.

[atombombbagel]

Ahhhh these make me feel sad for Nate. Can you do a third version where Nate can be happy too and everyone is friends? 🐣

Okay! So this is another Alternate Ending (we’ll call it ALT 3) to the Nate Drama! 

PART 1ALTERNATE ENDING 1ALTERNATE ENDING 2

Sole was a little frightened by the way Nate might react to thenews. She was leaving him, for good. Nate smiled as Sole appeared in his sightsand she returned the look with a polite smile. Sole looked down at the groundfor a moment, she didn’t want to hurt him, but she also couldn’t lie to himabout how she felt. It wouldn’t be fair on either of them, or the [companion] shewas currently dating. The whole situation was complicated.

“You’re back, I know this was a lot to take in,” Nateacknowledged, wrapping his arms around Sole in a brief hug. Sole smiled with uncertainty at him. “Are you alright?” he asked in concern and Sole shook her head.

“Nate… I can’t be with you,” Sole admitted, her gaze fallingback to the ground. She felt ashamed that she couldn’t look him in the eye asshe spoke. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She was surprised when Nate reached forwardand gently rubbed her arm.

“I understand. I’ve heard a lot about what you’ve done aroundthe Commonwealth.” He smiled at her. “You’ve changed and that’s okay.”

“I don’t… you’re okay with this?” Sole stepped back in confusion.This definitely wasn’t how she was expecting things to go. Nate looked behindSole, noticing the [companion] standing behind her.

“Is this?” Sole nodded. “If Sole’s fallen in love with you, thenyou must be great and she trusts you.” He reached out his hand. “Nice to meetyou,” he said with a smile plastered on his face.

Cait: Caitwas shocked with how nice Nate was being with Sole. She for a fact would feelangry and betrayed if she was in Nate’s shoes. Cait looked from Sole to Nate. Whatwas he playing at? Surely he was pulling their leg? She cocked an eyebrow.

“What’s yer game?” Cait asked tiltingher head. Nate chuckled and smiled at Cait. He looked genuine but Cait couldn’tshake off the bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“No game.” He shrugged. “I just want Sole to behappy.” Cait finally reached forward and shook his hand. That was awfully niceof him but she still wasn’t buying it. “I’m happy for you Sole, truly,” he said,looking back over at Sole.

“Thank you,” Sole replied with a smile. She reachedover and squeezed Cait’s hand.

“I hope we can remain friends.” Nate turned towardsCait. “It was nice to meet you,” he finished before turning around. Cait wasstill in a state of shock. She turned to look at Sole, her hand still firmly inSole’s.

“Did he just give us his blessin’?” Cait askedslack-jawed and Sole nodded.

“Yeah, he did.”

Curie: “Itis a pleasure,” Curie enunciated, reaching for Nate’s hand and shaking it. “I’veheard so much about you monsieur,” she added. Nate beamed from ear to ear.

“Good things I hope,” Nate said witha laugh. His eyes softened as he looked at the two of them. Sole wrapped an armaround Curie. “I’m so happy you found someone to love you.” Sole blushed, lookingdown. Curie and Sole were both glad Nate felt this way about their relationship,that he was accepting. Sole wrapped her arms around Nate’s neck, giving him a quicksqueeze before she pulled away and pecked his cheek.

“Thank you for understanding,” Solewhispered and Nate smiled. “I hope you stick around and get to know her, she’swonderful.” Curie heard Sole and blushed, looking away. She couldn’t wait to getto know Nate and hear all the wonderful stories he’d shared with Sole. Solelooked back and beamed at Curie in admiration.

“I’d like that, a lot,” Nate said.

“Oh!” Curie exclaimed in excitement. “Weshould all go out for a nice meal!”

Danse: “PaladinDanse-” Danse clasped Nate’s hand and shook it firmly, looking over at Sole ashe did so. This is what people did right? When they met their girlfriend’s ex? Hedidn’t know, he hadn’t been in this situation before but he remained polite inany case. “You can just call me Danse, sir.” He shook his head. “Nate.” He’dmessed up their first interaction, hadn’t he? He turned to Sole who was giggling.

“That’s quite a handshake,” Natejoked, laughing lightly and Danse smiled. “Anyhow,” Nate started, “its nice tomeet the man who’s been looking after Sole.” Danse’s cheeks turned red.

“It’s an honour too. Sole is quitethe woman,” Danse wrapped his arm around Sole’s shoulder, squeezing her lightly.“She’s helped me through a lot recently.”

“That’s Sole for you, always thehelper.” Nate smiled at Sole, “I’m happy for the two of you. And don’t worry, Iwon’t get in your way,” he paused. “It was good to see you Sole, I wish you twoall the best.” Sole reached forward and hugged him.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “You too.”

Deacon:Deacon was unsure whether he should shake Nate’s hand or not. Would it be rudenot to? He wasn’t suited for situations like this. Sole looked over at Deacon,nudging his arm with her elbow.

“John Smith,” Deacon said shaking hishand and Sole shook her head. What? He didn’t know if he could trust him yet.What if all this was just a ploy to get to know him and share his secrets withhis enemies. He couldn’t risk it.

“This is Deacon,” Sole corrected herboyfriend, rolling her eyes. “He’s nervous.”

“I completely understand. Can’t be easyliving in these times. Hell, I found it difficult so far,” Nate admitted, andDeacon nodded. He agreed fully with what Nate was saying. “I’ve heard what yourorganisation has done for Sole, she deserves someone like you.”

If only he knew the full story. Deacon thought to himself.

“He treats you right?” Nate asked andSole nodded. “Then don’t let me stop you guys.” He was happy that Sole hadfound someone as great as Deacon was. They deserved to be happy.

Gage:Gage wasn’t sure if Nate was being all that sincere. Surely he didn’t want his wifedating and sleeping with a raider. A murderer. A scoundrel. But the smile onNate’s face didn’t budge for a second, even as he looked Gage up and down,taking in his appearance. Nick withdrew his hand, rubbing it on his shirt. Was henervous? Gage laughed, he supposed he could be a little intimidating.

“The names Gage,” he said with aquick nod. He possessively grabbed Sole’s hand and laced their fingers together.Sole was the first good thing to happen to him in a while and he wasn’t goingto let Nate swan in and steal her from him.

“Great to meet you Gage,” Nate said,and Gage grunted. He didn’t mean to come off so rude but he couldn’t help it. “Okay,well I hope we can all get along.” he turned to Sole. “Because I want Sole inmy life, strictly as friends. You have my word on that.” Gage nodded.

“Alright.” Gage finally held out hishand and Nate shook it. “Good to meet you.”

Hancock:Nate was shocked when he saw Hancock’s face. He still couldn’t get used to thethings in this new world he’d found himself in, but if Sole was happy, then hewas happy. Hancock was happy to shake Nate’s hand, in fact, he couldn’t believehow pleasant and good-natured Nate was being.

“Mayor Hancock.” He couldn’t help butfeel nervous at the fact that Nate, a perfect looking smooth-skin had waltzedback in to Sole’s life. The thought of her leaving him for Nate, ate away atthe already paranoid feeling in his gut. Sole could sense how he was feeling.

“He’s helped me through a lot,”

“I’ve heard. Its no wonder you two fellin love,” He paused. “I couldn’t be happier that you’re with such a man. He canlook after you like I never could.” Hancock couldn’t stop a grin from formingon his face.

“You really know how to flatter a man!”Hancock mused, patting Nate’s back. “I’m buying you a drink.”

MacCready:MacCready couldn’t help but feel insecure as he looked up at the older man,well-dressed man. He was a better match for Sole, not like him. An ex-mercenarytype with a foul mouth, whereas Nate was excruciatingly good-natured and nice. Fu-fudge him.

“Robert,” MacCready said, feeling asthough using his first name would be a little more formal in this situation. Heshook his head, it didn’t make him feel any more confident.

“It’s a pleasure,” Nate expressed,shaking MacCready’s hand with a beaming smile stretched across his face. MacCreadyscoffed. Could he be more charming? “Sole really knows how to pick ‘em.”

What did he mean by that? RJ thought.

“I’ve heard great things fromCodsworth,” he paused, “and I’ve also heard how great the two of you aretogether.” He looked over at Sole. “You have my blessing completely. I won’tstay in your hair anyhow.” He nodded as he began to walk away.

“Wont you stay for a while?” MacCreadycalled after him. “I’m sure you and Sole have some catching up to do.”

Maxson:Nate was a little uneasy in front of Maxson. He was bigger and taller than himand the look on his face was quite intimidating. Maxson cocked an eyebrow. He didn’treally shake hands with anyone, but he supposed he could make an exception forthe man who used to hold Sole’s heart. Who was he kidding he couldn’t.

“Elder Maxson, Brotherhood of Steel,”He said formally, and Sole raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t expected him to answerwith such hostility. He nodded, and Nate got the idea and put his hand down byhis side.

“But you can totally call him Arthur,”Sole added, crossing her arms over her chest. Maxson looked over at her andsighed.

“Wow, you’ve done well for yourselfbagging him,” Nate mused and Sole laughed.

“Yeah.” She looked up at Maxson. “Ireally did.” She unfolded her arms and reached over to lace her fingers withMaxson’s. He smiled at the gesture.

“I’m happy for you Sole.” Maxsonplanned on being the kind of man that Sole needed and with confidence fromNate, he was sure he could achieve that.

Nick:Nate was a little surprised that Sole had decided to shack up with a synth,especially one like Nick Valentine but he’d also heard great things about theCommonwealth’s favourite detective.

“It’s an honour,” Nick smiled with anod before he took Nate’s hand with his metal one, shaking it lightly. Hedropped his hand back to his side. He wasn’t all that confident meeting Sole’sfirst love especially looking the way he did but Sole flashed him a reassuring smileand gently rubbed his arm with her hand.

“I’ve heard many great stories aboutthe adventures you’ve been on,” Nate declared. He was proud of all the cases Nickand Sole had solved together and it was an added bonus that they’d fallen inlove in the process. He smiled at the thought.

“As have I,” Nick replied with achuckle. Sole was glad to see them getting along. Maybe they could all be goodfriends.

Piper: “Oh!And you’re the amazing writer that publishes the paper!” Nick exclaimed as heshook Piper’s hand. She nodded with a smile, turning a dark shade of red. Shewas glad someone had noticed the effort she put into writing every newaddition.

“Aw- uh -  thanks I don’t know what to say,” Piperstuttered hiding her face in her left palm. He couldn’t believe how sweet andflattering he was being, she could see why Sole had fallen for him way backwhen.

“It’s glad to see Sole is well takencare of by you,” he winked at Piper and she hid further into her hand makingSole laugh. He’d always been a bit of a flirt. He turned back to Sole. “Friends?”he asked and Sole nodded.

“Always. Thanks Nate.”

Preston: Prestonwas ecstatic to meet the man that Sole often spoke of. He’d heard great thingsabout his service in the war and the dedication he had towards Sole and littleShaun. He had no doubt that the three of them would get on like a house onfire.

“Preston Garvey,” He announced with abright smile, gripping Nate’s hand in a firm but friendly handshake. Natesmiled back. “I’m with the Minutemen, Sole here has been a true and firmbeliever in our cause and I couldn’t be happier to have met her.” Prestonreached his arm around Sole and gave her a quick squeeze. She looked down as hercheeks burned a rosy pink.

“That’s wonderful news,” Nate raisedhis eyebrows. “I had no idea the effect she’d had. I hope you wouldn’t mind if Ijoined up?”

“It would be great to have you on ourside.” Preston couldn’t believe his ears. As if the past couple of months couldn’tget any better. “I’ll show you around.”

X6-88:X6 couldn’t believe he was meeting the father of Shaun, the other half of hisleader. He was excited, although he didn’t show it on his face. He reachedforward and energetically shook Nate’s hand. He never thought he’d see the day.

“Meeting the other parent of Father.”X6 couldn’t believe it and he couldn’t be happier. “It’s an honour sir,” heshook Nate’s hand. “I also understand if you want me out of the picture. Soleis your wife after all.”

“That isn’t the case at all. If Sole hadmoved on and is happy,” he sighed. “Then I’m happy too.” He looked over atSole, noticing the smile on her face as she looked over at X6. “As long as you treather right.”

“I plan on doing so sir.” X6 glancedover at Sole. “I love her more than anything.”

“That’s all I needed to hear. I wishyou all the best.”  

[theday]

all for the ask memes k thnx, im looking forward to the quality content 👏👏👏👏👏👏

 falen already asked me some and i answered those here thank u so much 4 asking jen i hate u but also i love u

OK! Ready: are you looking forward to anything at the moment?

oh worm the new pokemon game lads

Innocent Love: do you remember your first crush? what was it like?

this made me laugh oh fuck again so i was like. 10 and i got a crush on this guy and it lasted for 3 years bc we were in the same class for the next 3 years rip me! but i was so fucking annoying honestly im so glad i managed to Not be like that again with my next few crushes though ofc i was still annoying 2 those and thankfully i am a changed person and honestly i just shouldnt have any crushes bc ill be annoying even if i have learnt from my Bad Past ufhfhhis

god this is is so embarrassing but when i was like 12 someone told him i liked him and i was like bitC????? and u kno normal drama shit my best friend at that time also liked him and i was like !!!!!! wow!!!!! ok!!!!!! and shit happened u know thank fuck i graduated from primary school and i never see them again 

i would send him like o*e dir*ct**n songs bc they had the [redacted] songs and essentially i would send him songs that made me think of him but we werent even friends so he never replied its so fucking funny im gna die i hate that im never talking abt it ever again

Morning Call: what time do you usually sleep and wake up?

its the holidays but i still sleep at 11pm lmofsinwij and i wake up slightly later at 9am it used to be 10am but i hate waking up later than 9am so

Puss in Boots: do you have any pets? (if you don’t, which animal would you want as a pet?)

i want a bird or cat or dog or fish or that!!! one!!! x animal i forgot the name but its kind of like a frog but flatter??? and it has like fins on the sides of its face??? its like :0 ?????? whats the animal someone hmu

Breathless: name the last thing that took your breath away

dare i say it?????????????????? minhyuk which one??? who knows

Polaris: name a place you’d like to go to and an idol you’d like to go there with

omg i instantly thought of amusement park bc i keep remembering the first episode of monsta x’s right now  gdhidnnj so id like 2 go with with hrmrmrmrmmm……… im gonna cry the first person i thought of was minhyuk

Growing Pains: how tall are you?

. 154 cm……….. sanha cant relate 

Confession: imagine your ub confessing to you - how would they do it?

this question is cancelled i dont have an ub and im not gonna list 18 whole scenarios 

Lonely: would you rather be alone with your ub or surrounded by your bias group?

surrounded by my bias group aka all 3 i love living the no bias life 

Star: what’s your star sign?

capricorn same as chae hyungwon and i will never shut up abt that fact bc it makes me happie

Again: top astro ships (doesn’t have to be romantic)

binu

socky

binjin???

Cotton Candy: compare any idol to a dessert 

rocky is warm like lava cake :-0 idk lmfao

You & Me: favourite line from any astro song

oooo weEEEEEEE 

but for real umMMmm i havent actually watched any lyric videos for astro lmao um,,,,,,, so easy to love you??? from csc idk its nice and i wanted to change my bio to that but thats 2 mch effort

Baby: if you could drink out of any of the dream bottles, which would you pick?

give me a second to watch th e baby mv agani 

ok itll be the aroha one bc its probably grape flavoured and the safest 2 consume

Dreams Come True: what do you wish for the most at this point in time?

have i answered this … i want day6 to win that best band performance award BLEASE i thought about how hard they worked and then saw that theyre losing and i almost cried idk much about cnblue so i cant say for sure but i know day6 and theyve worked so fucking hard this year with everyday6 and just?? holding concerts every month and!!!! fuck please if they dont win ill cry and now i just feel so fucking bad bc i couldve voted everyday but i didnt 

Every Minute: you’ve only five minutes left to live. which astro mv would you watch again?

csc bc i need to stream it…….

Lie: if you could watch astro perform one song live, which song would it be?

AGAIN

butterfly: what song do you relate to each member of astro and why?

hRMM (based on the nature of the song itself since i dont know the lyrics also assuming we use astro songs)

myungjun - cat’s eye bc of the the egg……. (also cant believe that video was a year ago tf) also dreams come true bc of his oWWEOOWOOWOoo

jinwoo - confession bc whenever rocky and jinjin rap together i live 2 see another day?? and you smile bc i love jinjins smile :_) and he was jamming out 2 it during the jincha radio 2

dongmin - who is this dreams come true because during the most recent jincha radio didnt jinwoo say smth like… eunwoo this is ur song…idk….

bin - crazy sexy cool since it was said the song was originally meant to be his solo song oh confession for bin too bc every time he says “Hey baby geu ael ijeo” i hear jelly instead thanks jinjin

minhyuk - run because rocky!!! singing!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and fireworks bc he choreographed the dance?? iirc…. fuck lets not forget every minute.. iconic.. i love his rap in it

sanha - baby bc hes a babie and he always does the soda sound and dances its so funnie and cute what a loser lmao oh or cotton candy bc the song is rly soft and cute in general??? 

ok thats all bc if i dont stop now ill never shut up….. but searching for the links made me realize how mnay songs they have that have the same title as justin b*eber like… bin please calm urself

run: who do you turn to / what do you do when you’re stressed?

when im stressed i just dont think about it LOL so in the end i dont rly talk abt the reasons for my stress????? if i do itll be 2 falen 

crazy sexy cool: attach your favourite meme of astro

i,,,,,,,,,,,,?????????? my minds blank this is too much its not rly a meme but jinwoo saying its me during that one thing is always so funny 2 me and bell wont shut up abt it so i think abt it like every day

[bloggerblagger]

88) Tarantino’s Latest: A dissenting voice. (Quelle surprise.)

A few years ago, I went to see a film called ‘Punch Drunk Love’. It was billed as a comedy. If memory serves me right I didn’t laugh once. But the young couple sitting behind me did. Constantly. And if there is one thing even more annoying than ....(at this point  insert  whatever winds  you up to the point of wanting to commit multiple homicide with a flame thrower ) it is other people - young people in particular - who laugh at things which you find singularly unfunny. You, of course, may be  more tolerant of da yoof (anyone under 5O in my book) than I am - indeed, I would say that is a racing certainty - but I am sure you get the general idea.

Usually - out of fear of being stabbed-  I let such things pass, but on this occasion  I was pissed off enough to risk a lie-down on a mortuary slab, so I turned around and demanded an answer.

“What were you laughing at?”

Actually I can’t remember their answer - just their little millennial snowflake faces crumpling in the face of my interrogation - and anyway  what difference would it have made whatever they had said? No explanation of why something is funny is going to make it any funnier to the person who didn’t find it funny in the first place. 

No, my question was really just a manifestation of my grumpy irritation at having sat through a film which I had only gone to see because someone called Paul Thomas Anderson had directed it and he was supposedly hot shit. (I hadn’t by then seen ‘Magnolia’ or ‘Boogie Nights’, the movies upon which his reputation for hot shitness was largely built . And I haven’t seen them since because I have seen ‘There Will Be Blood’ and ‘The Master’, both of which I thought were overrated and overwrought attempts to do what ‘Citizen Kane’ had done a 100 times better 70 odd years earlier. And I didn’t like ‘Inherent Vice’ much better. 

I was, I will concede, quite impressed with ‘Phantom Thread’, but one out of four is not much of  a strike rate, so PTA’s oeuvre, is, to my mind, a lot less than it is cracked up to be and his name on a film’s credits is an invitation to me to walk on by.

I am admittedly, not one who is wont to swim with the tide of received wisdom on any subject , not least because I am an habitually contrary sod. But still,  I don’t just say Paul Thomas Anderson  is no Frances Ford Coppola for the sake of it. I mean it because I genuinely believe it.

And he is not the only one of the supposed  modern greats who doesn’t do it for me. I loved  ‘Blood Simple’ and ‘Fargo’ but nothing I have seen since by the Coen Brothers -  with the possible exception of ‘True Grit’ - has  done that much of me. I did not like  ‘A Serious Man’ at all, couldn’t see the point of ‘Inside Llewelyn Davis’ and I thought ‘No Country for Old Men’  was a bit of a wrist job. No strike that: a complete wrist job. And yes, I know ‘The Big Lebowski’ is everyone’s favourite film. But, quelle horreur, despite several attempts, I’ve never managed to get all the way through it.

The common objection I have to Anderson and the Coens’ stuff - and to a slightly lesser extent, that of David O. Russell (not to be confused with David J. Russell, the former professional golfer, who became David J. Russell to avoid being confused with plain David Russell, another former professional golfer, no idea what David O’s excuse is) is the way they draw attention so conspicuously to the style of direction and away from the story.

I do not want to know about the film director’s trademark cinematic fireworks anymore than I want to be distracted by a novelist’s glorious prose. What I want is to be so engrossed in the story that I suspend disbelief from first to last and hopefully, at the end, feel rewarded and uplifted and, if I am very lucky, enlightened by the experience. I want a well developed coherent plot with the right ingredients deftly folded into the mixture at the right time, and rounded characters, neither entirely bad  nor utterly flawless, but nuanced as people really are. If I am super lucky, I hope to see some universal truth revealed to me that really makes me think about the way I see the world.

A film that, in recent times, ticked every box, was ‘Manchester By The Sea’, a sublime piece of film-making, deeply affecting and gut wrenchingly poignant. I offer this as exhibit A, m’lud, in support of my case that I am not some old fart whose taste is irrevocably stuck in the past and is thus incapable of seeing anything good in the new, but as someone who refuses to praise the emperor on the fineness of his new clothes just because practically everybody else is determined to claim to love the post modern irony of seeing a king with his dick  out.

And, by the way, my idea of  a good film isn’t just limited to a realistic contemporary drama. It can be historical - the version of ‘Journey’s End’ made a couple of years ago - or comedy, ‘Midnight in Paris’ - something highly stylistic, ‘Laurence Anyways’ - a heist movie, ‘American Animals’ - a musical, (okay the very best of those, ‘Cabaret’, ‘Singing in the Rain’, for instance,  aren’t that recent  but...) Lala Land’ worked for me - even a movie about trolls, ‘Border’ - magical realism. ‘The Shape of Water’ .All of those are  reasonably recent - and this is the vital common denominator - all  worked within their own terms. You are asked to willingly suspend disbelief - the critical first step if one is to engage with any book or film - and however absurd a proposition that may fundamentally be, as in the case of a musical, if it is done well enough you happily go along with it.

Which at last brings me to the original point of this piece, Quentin Tarantino’s latest, ‘Once Upon A Time in Hollywood’, which we are, for some reason, told at the beginning, is his 9th film.

Wow is all I can say. And for all  the wrong reasons. Never mind, PTA, and DOJ and the CB - they all pale into self effacing insignificance compared to this fellow, the unrivalled leader of the  hey-it’s -me-ME!-I did-it pack, who has certainly never done anything on the QT.

Okay, I did like ‘Pulp Fiction’. A lot. It was wild. It was different. It was sassy. It was outrageously, cartoonishly violent. But since then, what have we  had but more of the same? Except that,by definition, all the rest differ in one crucial aspect. They are, paradoxically, NOT different. They are not original. The stories vary but the mode de telling is pretty much identical.

So it is with  ‘Once Upon A Time All The  So Called Professional Film Critics In The World Prostrated Themselves At The Feet of Quentin Tarantino Yet Again’. More of the predictably wacky same. But this time my critique comes with knobs on.

Never mind the bladder bursting excessive length, the unexplained jumping about between different bits of story, the customary unremitting gore, the comedy that isn’t quite comedy (mainly because it’s never quite funny) the drama that’s never quite dramatic because it’s simultaneously being undercut by the comedy that isn’t quite comedy, never mind any of that. I take that as a given in pretty much any Tarantino film. What particularly concerns me about no.9, is why?

Actually there are quite a few whys but let’s start with the big one: why has he taken the still shocking story of the Charles Manson murder of Sharon Tate and then riffed on it so that we are given a totally fictitious alternative version of events? What was the point of that? What was he trying to say? What, in doing this, did he mean to reveal to us, the audience? Surely, anyone would have realised that you can not do something so very odd without such questions being asked? (Unless of course you are an ‘auteur’ who  has managed to create such an unchallenged worldwide  rep for being a genius that no-one dares ask.)

Anyway, I haven’t got a fucking clue. I just didn’t - and don’t - geddit.  And to anyone who says, ‘Who gives a shit about that kind of nitpicky pedantic bollocks if the audience is having fun?’, I say ‘Of course, it fucking matters! Otherwise it’s like a mathematical answer without the workings. There has to be a comprehensible rationale or it’s just bollocks’. (Or is it? a tiny voice in my head insists on saying. What about Chinese medicine? If it works, who cares why it works? But notwithstanding that last bloody irritating intervention, to which I concede I don’t have a completely fireproof answer, I continue to insist that, for me, there must be a reason for any idea to be valid.)

So here’s my next why? Why do the ‘critics’ love him so much? My guess is either

a) it is because most of them are twats who have seen a million films but still know fuck all about the subject and just  go in whichever direction the rest of the lemmings are headed,  

or

b) because he stuffs his films - particularly this one - with so many nods and winks tipped to other films and to Hollywood folk lore  that  only a person who had seen a million movies  and immersed themselves in Hollyworld would recognise them and, realising and relishing the fact that  they are part of a tiny select group and flattered that they have been so selected, they choose to believe that a poor film is a good one. (In other words it is my contention that Tarantino aims his films at critics and when was flattery not the best way to get somewhere with anybody?)

Of one thing I am reasonably certain: the audience members who crammed  the cinema to capacity were way too young  (my companion and I were the oldest people there by a couple of aeons) to have spotted more than one or two - if any -  of the film buff references. (Perhaps I am doing them a disservice, but I’d bet a pony to a piece of popcorn that, moreover, nine tenths of them knew almost nothing - if anything at all - about  the Manson murders before the  publicity about this film drew  them into the cinema.)

None of this stopped them laughing uproariously throughout, and annoying the fuck out of me for so doing.  Yep, it was Punch Drunk Love all over again.

Except this time I got the flame thrower out and fried the bastards to death. It was so fucking SATISFYING!

(Actuary, sorry, no I didn’t. But there was a reason for  me to invoke this  image in this context - connected with the film - which you will understand should you have 2hrs 39mins of your precious time on this earth  to waste. And that  makes it different from most of the things that Quentin does which seem to me to have no raison d’etre at all, apart from the fact that he thinks it’s a good idea at the time.

And that’s not good enough for ME!!!!)